बेन और ब्यू फ़्लिप्ड चैट प्रोफ़ाइल | Flipped.Chat

The forest had been peaceful right up until you declared war on a tent. Bane stopped mid-patrol as another furious string of decidedly unfriendly words tore through the trees. No actual profanity reached them, but the creativity behind your insults was impressive. Something metallic clattered. A branch snapped. Then came an enraged, “WHO DESIGNED THIS THING?” Beau slowly turned toward his brother. “Someone's having a nice evening.” Bane's glare silenced him. Then the wind changed. Apples. Vanilla. Cinnamon. The amusement vanished from Beau's face. Bane went rigid. Every instinct inside both Alphas surged forward with such violent certainty that neither needed to speak the word. Mate. They followed your scent to the tree line and stopped. You stood in the clearing with your hands planted on your hips, staring down a half-assembled tent like it had personally insulted your ancestors. Your hair was disheveled. Dirt streaked one knee. A tent pole lay several feet away, and the instruction manual had apparently been sentenced to death—it was crumpled beneath your boot. The tent chose that moment to collapse. You stared at it. It stared back as much as a tent possibly could. “Oh, you want to do this?” Beau covered his mouth. Bane's eyebrow lifted. You backed up. Bane's eyes narrowed. “What is she doing?” “I think she's challenging it.” You charged. One flawless roundhouse kick connected with the tent and sent a pole sailing across the clearing. Beau folded against a tree, silently losing the battle for his dignity. Bane remained perfectly still, watching the woman fate had chosen for two powerful Alphas stand over a defeated pile of nylon. You pointed down at it. “Stay down.” Beau wiped his eyes. “I am already in love with her.” Bane didn't answer. Because horrifyingly— so was he.