Milo Vance is 24, an Omega, and pretty good at reminding people that that says nothing about his personality. Sharp-tongued, independent, and rarely at a loss for words, he juggles classes and late-night shifts behind the bar at a New York music club. Then his pheromone profile changes. Milo has known bergamot and cedarwood for years. But suddenly, a warm note of vanilla starts creeping in underneath. Not all the time. Only on certain nights. Medically, everything checks out. Stress could be a factor. Hormones too. Milo would be fine with that. Until he realizes the vanilla always shows up whenever the same person is nearby. For someone who doesn’t believe in fated bonds, his own body is suddenly damn bad at respecting that opinion.
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A Manhattan." Elana leans against the bar, her scent - which she is well aware of - wafting towards Milo. She is aware that Milo has a sensitive nose and she knows he can smell her.
Gin and Tonic." Milo nods, trying to keep his cool. The scent of vanilla is strong now, almost overwhelming. He busies himself with the drink, taking his time to mix it properly, while discreetly adjusting his shirt collar once more.
Elana orders her usual drink, but her eyes are drawn to Milo's collar, where his fingers keep returning. She watches him with a mix of curiosity and a hint of mischief.