Chapter 8
EIGHT
Cayson
She’s gone. The second I turned back to find the tiny blonde after getting those dumbasses off the balcony, she’d slipped back into the crowd, disappearing without a trace.
How the hell can she do that? And why would she do that?
I’m pushing through the crowds of people in the ballroom, who’ve all forgone any sense of formality and are grinding on each other, the girls with their skirts hiked and the men with their suit jackets undone, ties hanging loosely from their collars. It’s a scene of complete debauchery, one that I’d normally be all for enjoying. Hell, I’d be the number one guy out there. But I have no interest in it tonight. I just want to find the girl.
How can I not smell her? Natural scents, perfumes, and sweat fills the air. But still, I feel like I should be able to smell her, like her scent of lavender and vanilla would draw me to her like a beacon. Surely, she wouldn’t leave the ballroom. An omega could get into serious trouble for leaving the ballroom without a valid reason.
So where is she?
I just want to get close to her again and smell her scent. It was intoxicating. It made me feel like… almost like I couldn’t control myself.
A shudder runs through my body. What would have happened if those buffoons hadn’t interrupted us?
The truth is, I would have done bad things to that little omega. I would’ve pushed her up against that wall and fucked her on the balcony until she wasn’t a shy wilting thing any longer. She’d be grabbing onto me, screaming my name, and I know I would’ve come hard. Harder than I’d ever come before in that tiny body of hers.
“Hi there,” someone says.
I come to a stop in front of a gorgeous woman. She has dark brown hair with long strands of tinsel woven in. Glitter covers her entire body, and her makeup is dark and bold, with strong eyebrows and brown lipstick. I’m drawn to alternative girls, and her sleek black dress hugs her body in all the right ways.
Except, something’s wrong.
Looking at her, I’m waiting for that familiar feeling to come over me, but I’m just filled with frustration. Frustration that she’s the one standing in front of me. My brain is hooked on the omega from the balcony. So much so that even as the girl in front of me steps closer, her hand resting on my waist, I can’t even think about how good it should feel, or wonder what her body looks like under her dress.
“Hi yourself,” I hear myself say, my voice coming out deep and even.
As if on autopilot, my hands move to her hips as well, and we start to dance, her putting her hands above her head and shaking her hips in front of me. It’s weird how detached I feel from her and this whole place. I’ve never felt like this before and the instinct to push her away before the little omega sees me is overwhelming.
“I feel like you were looking for someone,” she says, looking up at me through her lashes. “Do you think you found her?”
This woman is skilled. She, like most omegas, has been taught to attract the attention of a man. It’s usually a spell that I let women weave on me, at least for a little while, but instead I’m focused on the woman on the balcony. She didn’t seem the least bit of a seductress, so what was it about her?
“I definitely found something I like,” I murmur, running a hand down her hair and watching as she spins around, pressing her ass into my crotch. I skim my hands up and down her sides, dancing with her like I would dance with anybody. No matter how strange and uncomfortable it feels.
Then I see that omega again in my mind. Her neck, exposed, tipping back as I leaned in. I see the way her pulse jumps through her skin. Her scent, light and sweet, like something I could use to cleanse my palate. Literally a tall drink of lemonade on a hot day. Like jumping into a pool of cool water in Italy.
When the song changes, I move away from the girl with the tinsel in her hair, who pouts at me playfully, but moves onto the next alpha with little resistance. I keep moving through the crowd, deciding to try my luck around the walls.
She was shy. Didn’t want to be around the people and the party. If I’m going to find her, it’ll likely be in an alcove somewhere, her pretty little face hiding behind her hair. I imagine her face when she sees me again, that mix of interest and caution. Just enough of a chase for it to feel good when she gives into me.
I think about her waiting for me along the wall, then picture another alpha finding her before I can, and something hot and possessive pulses through my veins. What the hell? The emotion is foreign and upsetting to me, but it doesn’t make me slow in my search for her. If anything, it makes me move faster.
Taking an interest in this omega means nothing. It doesn’t. One pretty face doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want an omega. It doesn’t change the fact that I’d rather be dragged over hot coals than give up my life of fun and traveling just to be saddled with an omega. Stuck with my father and my pack, like a miserable prisoner.
That’s right. I can want this omega, just as long as I only want her for the night. That’s all I can offer anyone right now.
But first, I have to figure out where the hell she went.
Ezra might be able to help me find her. I reach into my pocket, fishing out my phone and trying his number. It rings through twice. That boring bastard is probably already upstairs, tucked into bed so he can get up early and prepare for the day’s events. Damn it. I need his help.
For all I know, every time I move to one area of the room, she heads for the other. This could all just be a game to her. A game I could win with Ezra’s help, if only he’d pick up his damn phone.
Suddenly, there’s a body on mine, and a massive alpha is laughing as he tries to regain his footing. I push him playfully back into the group, though I am annoyed that he’s interrupted me. When I look back out into the throng of dancers, I see the guy rejoin the fun, an omega immediately coming to grind on him, two others sidling up to each arm.
What the hell am I doing, looking around for a single girl, when there’s a whole room full of them ready to fall at my feet? I push back into the crowd, taking a shot from a nearby waiter and downing it. I’d hoped the liquor would make me more reasonable, but my entire body is burning for her. When I find that girl again, I’m going to have her, just to get her out of my head.
My body loosens up and I snatch a girl from a nearby alpha, who bares his teeth at me but is immediately distracted by a different girl in a red dress. The girl is pretty. Nothing like the other, but good enough for some fun. But my body doesn’t respond to her.
That doesn’t mean you have to turn her away.
Just as I’m about to get my hands on the woman in front of me, my phone starts to ring, and I curse under my breath, fishing it out of my pocket. It could be Ezra, whom I haven’t seen since we drank wine together at the start of the ball. And if it’s him, he can help me find the omega and finally calm whatever fire started burning inside of me.
But, of course, it’s not Ezra, who is probably tucked away and fast asleep in his room.
It’s my father.
He’s probably calling about The Selection. To see if I’ve chosen an omega, if I’ll be bringing her home to the pack so we can settle down and have a million children and never leave the territory again while he rules over us with an iron fist. He wouldn’t trust me to pick one myself though. Instead, he’ll call me every hour, on the hour, giving me instructions about who to choose and why. He’ll want me to walk him through everything I’m doing, so he can criticize and try to control what I’m doing.
Like always, I’m unable to stop the flood of anger and resentment that crashes into my body when I think about him. The rage is so powerful that I have to take deep breaths to stop myself from shifting in the middle of the party, and I hate that he has that kind of control over me.
Ezra and I have always been close, in neighboring packs, but our childhoods couldn’t have been more different. Ezra was always treated with respect. The golden child. He always made the right decisions, and even came to council meetings with his dad, so he could learn about the process of one day being the leader of the pack.
My dad on the other hand? He was always assuming I was going to fuck something up. He didn’t even give me a chance to prove myself. He sent me away from important meetings, never allowing me a chance to stand on my own feet, but muttering about the ways I did spend my time, even though he didn’t want me around.
For me, growing up under my father was a constant battle. He expected me to be perfect, to have every answer, to grow into the perfect son, just like Ezra, but he never gave me the benefit of the doubt, or challenged me in any meaningful way. He just seemed to want me to naturally be everything he ever wanted, without teaching me a single thing. It was impossible. A no-win situation for me.
Instead of taking the responsibility onto himself for failing to raise me properly, he just told people that some people aren’t natural leaders. He just watched me spend my time with girls and booze, smirking about the complete fuck-up I’d become. Like he didn’t have any part in it.
The phone continues to buzz in my hand.
Someday, I’ll be able to outright block his number. But today isn’t that day.
I stare down at the caller I.D. for a long moment, until the call eventually rings out. Then I slip my phone back into my pocket and find a woman to grind on, my thoughts going back to the beautiful omega. The one I’d stay away from, if I was smart.
Unfortunately, as my father often reminds me, I’m not a very smart man.