Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
Our humble abode is swarming with people. I walk through the house greeting as many people as I can, feeling on top of the world. I love the energy at these things, how everyone is ready to let loose and fully embrace the recklessness of our youth.
It’s also Halloween, and the variety of costumes really brings this fraternity to life. One of my frat brothers is carrying a plastic gun while wearing both a tuxedo and a shibari chest harness. When I asked who he was supposed to be, he said, “Bondage. James Bondage.”
I slide past a few people in the hallway, careful not to hit them with the whip in my hand.
The leather slides between my fingers as I wrap it up, placing it on my hip as I steer toward the kitchen.
I can see Jett and Everett, my destination just in reach, but a hand reaches out to stop me in my tracks.
“Dax, happy birthday!” a feminine voice says to me. Two betas dressed as polarizing angels are in front of me and I recognize them as sorority sisters from Beta Gamma. “You look snazzy.”
I give them a polite grin. “Thank you.” I don’t remember their names, but that doesn’t really matter. “Although, it’s not my birthday anymore. I just wanted a costume party instead of a normal banger.”
“Wanted a chance to show off that wonderful physique,” the other girl comments while fluttering her eyelashes.
She says it very smooth, the salaciousness subtle.
Maybe I would be interested in flirting if I didn’t already have someone occupying my thoughts, but that ship has long since sailed.
There’s only one girl I want flirting with me, and she’d probably do it by insulting me. The thought makes my dick twitch.
“I wanted to be an adventurer,” I say nicely. “I should get going?—”
“Rebecca said your philanthropy event is later this month. We can’t wait to help anyway we can,” the first angel says.
I give her a solid nod, because it’s an important benefit.
Both fraternities and sororities are expected to raise money for a specific philanthropy.
It’s Sam’s favorite thing about being president.
He’s passionate about charity, and he even goes out of his way to help as many local organizations as he can.
As social chair, I’m tasked with inviting important people and gauging the relationships between the Greek houses. Unfortunately for these two Beta Gammas, I’m off the clock. It’s my birthday celebration and I want to be with my pack.
“It’s going to be great. Sam has all the information if you want to discuss it more. He should be here with his pack soon.” I give them a cordial smile before walking off without another word and heading to the kitchen to finally join my pack.
Everett, Jett, and Thatcher stand together near the fridge.
Our fraternity brother and teammate has on his usual stoic mug, but it’s shaded by the black hood over his face.
His executioner’s sword looks heavy and uncomfortable.
“You look fucking creepy,” I say to him as I join the group.
“Are you trying to ward people away from you?”
Thatcher looks at me with a deadpan expression. “Only because someone wanted to have a fucking costume party.”
His tone is light despite the look on his face. I laugh before pouring myself a drink at the counter. “Our grumpy defenseman, ever the loner,” I tease.
He huffs with amusement just before Sam walks in, looking around. He’s wearing head to toe plaid, a magnifying glass sticking out of his pocket. “Sherlock Holmes!” I yell to him.
He looks over and flips me the finger before spotting his executioner pack mate. “I need help with something,” he says before heading right out. Thatcher follows without any questions.
Jett snorts into his cup. “That guy is the life of the party. Respectfully,” he jokes.
That causes both of us to laugh. “Thatcher’s a good guy,” Everett says as he takes a sip of his drink.
I finish making my own and join their circle, happy to finally be with my pack once again.
Our drinks are so strong, you can smell the liquor in the air.
I point down at it and look to Jett. “Please let us know if this bothers you,” I tell him seriously.
He waves me off. “I appreciate the sentiment, man, but it’s fine. Not drinking is a personal choice for me, I don’t expect anyone else to follow it.” He takes a sip from his own cup. “Besides, I have a cranberry mocktail. I think I’ll survive.”
He winks at me and I realize he has the right idea.
It’s not the real thing, but it still helps satiate my alpha.
That and cranberry scented candles. It should be embarrassing, but it feels freeing.
Being able to give my alpha what it needs is honest self- care, and I don’t want to suppress him just because it might be seen as weird.
Not to mention the bombshell that Everett told us the other day. Jett’s scent match and Rory are the same person. There’s nothing to discuss with our different omegas because they aren’t different. They are one and the same, and it feels like a massive gift from the universe.
However, we’ve all come to terms that we’ll have to wait for Rory to come to us.
If she comes to us. Everett described how scared she looked, how hesitant.
I don’t want to push her or make her feel obligated to be ours just because it looks like fate.
It’s a choice . She’s my choice, always, but I only want to be hers if she makes that decision willingly.
I can be patient if it means she wants us for us and not because the world is pushing her towards it.
But also, what are the fucking odds? How fucking weird can this universe be?
I turn the second a mix of familiar scents pour into the kitchen.
Pack Pearson walks in, all dressed in various colors, and it takes me a second to realize that they’re the literal Scooby Doo gang.
Atlas has on an orange ascot underneath his blue collar, Stacia is wearing a very 70’s inspired purple dress with go-go boots, and Kendall is wearing a green shirt and has a fake blunt between his lips.
Then Ciro comes into view wearing an orange sweater vest and fake glasses.
A cackle escapes my mouth before I can think better of it.
“Please, I need to see him,” I say, knowing that Uriah is hiding back there. The rest of the pack starts to smile, knowing what’s causing me this much amusement. Everett tries to hide his laughter, but Jett joins in with enthusiasm.
“Don’t make fun of him,” Stacia says with a pout. Kendall and Ciro are holding in their own laughter as they part, letting Uriah come forward. He’s in a onesie with the hoodie up, showing Scooby Doo’s face above him. He’s scowling as he goes to his omega’s side.
“How can I not make fun of him, it’s hilarious!”
“I’ll do whatever my omega wants, even if it means having to put up with your immature ass,” Uriah grumbles.
“Dax,” Everett warns as I continue to laugh, although his smile says he’s just as entertained.
“Hey, at least we’re wearing a matching costume. What the hell are you guys doing?” Stacia taunts.
I nod my head, letting my laughter die down. A tiny groan escapes as I look at our three differing costumes. Everett is dressed as a gladiator and Jett is in a pirate get-up.
“I wanted us to be the three musketeers but I was outvoted. Now I’m in this instead,” I say, pointing at the stupid whip.
Everett laughs. “He’s being dramatic. We couldn’t find a costume in all of our sizes so we had to compromise.”
I scoff. “We could have squeezed our cheeks into those costumes. For friendship .”
Ciro lets out a snort and Jett shakes his head. “There’s no amount of friendship that would have made that costume fit Everett.”
I throw my hands up. “I’m the only one with any imagination.”
That makes everyone chuckle. I offer drinks to everyone, and this time Atlas and Stacia stay sober instead of Uriah, so I give him an extra strong drink. He deserves it for dressing like a cartoon dog.
I smell her before I see her. A dramatic signal that causes my head to whip around. I can tell Jett and Everett smell it, too, because both of their scents spike just as deep cranberries metaphorically fall from the sky and land directly in our nostrils.
Rory strides around the corner, her skin shimmering from head to toe in a powdery blue.
It’s a striking cerulean that compliments her hair, which is up in a high bun just like the night we met, the tendrils hanging down in an effortless illusion.
Her long one-shoulder gown flows to the floor, black polyester swimming over her, billowing in a way that makes her look like she’s floating on air.
She used her hair to her advantage, because I see the vision immediately. It’s like she’s jumped right out of a mythology retelling.
Stacia squeals as her best friend finds them. Their happiness at seeing each other makes my heart full. I may not be able to give Rory the comfort she needs, but she has someone that does, and that makes my alpha rest easy in my chest.
All three of us stare at her, and we don’t even notice that it’s become quiet and awkward until Kendall coughs as discreetly as he can.
“Wow.” Jett clears his throat and takes a sip from his cup. “You look incredible.”
Her scent spikes the slightest amount, just enough to be noticeable, as she pushes one of those tendrils behind her ear. “I wanted to be Hades,” she says, swaying her dress. “Seemed fitting. And you’re a pirate, I see.”
Jett puts on a smirk, one that I’ve never really seen on him before. It screams confidence, and I realize right then and there that he’s gone into the right profession. “Yeah. I reckon I look a bit like William Turner. What do you think?”
Rory shrugs, but it feels anything but casual. Her eyes travel down to where his flowy shirt billows and exposes his chest. When she catches herself staring, she looks away, a blush reaching her cheeks.
I breathe a bit easier. She’s attracted to her scent match, that’s for sure.
That’s still not an invitation to pursue things further, but it’s good to know.
It satiates the beast inside me to see she’s at least thinking of our pack mate.
Before I can change the subject, a giant head of orange curls pops up behind everyone.
“Opal! I’m glad you could make it.” I see her costume and smile wide. “Sick! Sailor Jupiter.”
Opal’s face lights up before she looks over at Rory. “I told you someone would know who I am!”
The genuine smiles they give each other makes me giddy. Rory has more than one person, even better.
I bring my drink into the air. “Alright, well… it’s my birthday?—”
“Your birthday was fourteen days ago,” Jett adds.
“—so let’s drink!”