Chapter 3
“Close your eyes,” Tara ordered overtop the most recent L-OV release, armed with an aerosol can full of setting spray.
“Is that the one with the glitter in it?” I asked excitedly, obeying her command, letting my heavy lids close with a flutter of strip lash and knife-sharp liner.
“Obviously,” she replied, gently using a hand to angle my face the way she needed it. “Hold your breath.”
The product hit me in a freezing cold fine mist. Tara took her time to apply it liberally over my face before setting the bottle aside to fan at my skin.
“You know,” I said, still half holding my breath while the cloud of product dissipated. “I don’t know how girls lived before setting spray.”
“So, so, so much powder, babe,” she said with a little shudder before giving her face the same treatment.
Half of our time spent getting ready was Tara convincing me that a week on the couch did not actually make me into a couch potato and that I was, in fact, still a hot omega who was too good for a balding finance bro–but it was getting ready nonetheless.
I admired our handiwork in the mirror. When we got ready like this, we always divided and conquered.
Tara was better at makeup, but I was better at hair.
I’d pulled my candy floss colored hair into pigtails, small braids woven amongst them and styled my bangs to add a little interest and modernize the now nearly thirty-year-old pop culture reference.
It was my signature look for streams, since it looked great with my chunky headphones, and kept my hair out of my face while I was gaming, just good luck on my side that the nearly second-nature style fit my pop starlet schoolgirl ensemble.
My pink lace bra was practically spilling out of my tied-up white shirt, an ample amount of cleavage on display that I’d nearly forgotten in the wake of my blanket hoodie’s lack of shape.
The fabric was exceptionally see-through, but it would be darker in the park than in my bathroom—and, with the way that Tara had rolled my skirt so the hem sat just at the curve of my ass, threatening a flash of the matching cheeky underwear at any moment, I had a feeling that was the point anyway.
Truthfully, it was the only matching set I owned that I wouldn’t be totally embarrassed for someone to see, a revelation that’d had me making a mental note to book a shopping trip sooner rather than later.
“You look so hot,” Tara said if she didn’t have her tits pushed to her chin and her whole ass out.
I felt like I was dressed like a nun compared to her, which was a little ironic considering her main for Kill Floor, the horror game that I loved and bullied the scaredy cat into playing on occasion, was in fact a slutty nun.
“Not as hot as you,” I sighed.
She rolled her eyes, smacking my ass with a loud kiss against my cheek. “Shut up and come on, the boys are waiting.”
Her hand clasped mine as she dragged me out from the bathroom and outside, where Charlie and Jesse waited on the steps, the pair of them grinning as they caught sight of us.
“Niiice,” Jesse said approvingly. “Murder by Midnight?”
I wrinkled my nose. “That’s sooo last season, J. We’re all on Kill Floor now.”
“The character skins are cuter!” Tara said approvingly with a little turn before she hopped down the steps to press a kiss to the beta’s temple.
“And the killers are better, they license them from horror classics instead of just having generics.”
“Oh?” Jesse asked with interest. “Like who?”
“Dunno why you sound so interested, we both know you’re too chicken to play.” Charlie called back to us with a laugh, going to unlock the car.
“Okay, rude?” Jesse huffed. “I am so not too chicken to play.”
They were, but that’s what made it funny when they joined Tara and me for a round. Or even played with our mutual friend, Indi.
I didn’t know him well, but damn, they sure knew how to get through repairing circuit boxes.
We piled into Charlie’s overly expensive four-door sedan, Tara squished up against my side to take selfies as the alpha chauffeured us around, our conversation dying off in favour of the low hum of the radio.
My Mary Jane-clad foot tapped against the pristine mats, high white socks hugging the squish of my thigh as I fidgeted with the hem of my skirt. The closer we got, the more this was feeling like a mistake.
I hadn’t been to Omega’s Lust in… forever. Not to mention for an event like this. An entirely open-door sex party was a pretty significant jump from using a few alphas to get through my heat.
Would I have to redo all my paperwork? Create a new scent card? What if no one matched with me and I spent the night awkwardly stuffing my face with cotton candy and riding the Ferris wheel solo?
Wait, actually, that didn’t sound so bad.
Official plan B, secured.
“Relax, babe,” Tara said softly, putting her hand on my knee with her silvery rosary-themed hand chain glinting in the passing streetlights.
“Yeah, Eva. Don’t worry—we’re gonna find you a hottie all of your own, maybe even a rich one,” Jesse said with a wink towards Charlie.
The alpha and beta wore matching all black outfits, spiked collars catching the lights as we drove.
“Is that all you’re in it for, the money?” Charlie teased Jesse. “Gold digger.”
“Don’t forget that big, fat cock,” Tara shot back, making Charlie go red as the rest of us laughed.
Their banter was the cutest. And though I loved to see it for my best friend, damn did I wish that I’d managed to find something like that for myself.
Packing up had always been a dream of mine, even though at this point the commitment-phobe inside of me had been kicking the romantic’s ass for so long that I didn’t know if I’d ever get there.
Maybe I wasn’t cut out for a relationship, much less a whole pack.
How the fuck was I supposed to manage one bond, much less two or even more?
As the giggles subsided, I caught Charlie’s eye in the mirror, offering him a grin. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what the hell their costumes were. The black greasepaint on their noses not helping in the slightest.
“As if, I am so not some little kept omega housepet,” I tossed back at the beta.
“Hey!” Tara complained.
“What are you even supposed to be, huh? A goth clown?”
“We’re little alpha and beta housepets,” Jesse smirked, reaching into a black bag I hadn’t noticed on the floor of the car at his feet and pulling out matching dog ear headbands. “We’re Tara’s scary dog privilege for the night.”
“Literally,” Charlie chimed in with his bark-like laugh as he pulled up to the amusement park’s front gate. “Dobermans.”
It didn’t take him long to find a parking space, even though the lot was very full, and the car had barely stopped before Tara was opening the door, yanking me out of it.
She towed me excitedly towards the gates with the rest of her pack hot on our heels, Jesse and Charlie putting on their ears as we approached the wicket at the front.
“Welcome,” the man with a distinctive bump in his nose greeted through the little speaker box from behind the glass. “And welcome back to some,” he said, gesturing to Tara and Charlie.
“Thanks, Phil,” Tara said with a smile. “I’ve brought a few friends who need entry stuff done, they’re here to party with us tonight.”
He looked a bit uptight, his suit crisp and his blonde hair coiffed back with gel, totally at odds with the general unkemptness of a carnie moving from place to place.
“How lovely,” he replied smoothly as Charlie used his long arm to reach over our head and slide his credit card to him, taking the order to pay for our entries for what it was. “Did you fill out your intake forms online?”
“Sure did,” Jessie answered. “Should be under Jessie Sinclair and Geniveve Kent.”
Phil clicked away at the laptop precariously balanced on the thin shelf inside of the wicket where the cash register usually sat, humming in approval. “I see you both. Give me a few moments to get everything in order.”
We stepped to the side as he worked, clicking and typing as he directed questions towards both of us. “It looks like your emergency contacts are both Tara Sinclair?”
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Backup is Charlie Martin?”
Phil nodded, nostrils flaring slightly as an omega dripping in heavy orange blossom and vanilla perfume stepped up to the counter, holding up their wrist to show off a fluorescent green bracelet that I guessed was for re-entry.
Their costume—if you could call the tiny bikini, boots, hat and fake pirate sword they had a full costume, left little to the imagination.
My eyes found Tara, who shrugged with a grin, mouthing. “Told you that you were wearing enough.”
“Hey Philly-pie,” the omega called, leaning up to nearly press her face to the glass, round tits resting on the thin outside counter of the wicket. “I was wondering where they hid you away. I’m here for my treat, do you have one for me?”
The man froze, his gold eyes flicking up to look at the omega before returning to his laptop. “Welcome in, Jennie. You can go right through, no need to stop with the bracelet.”
The omega pouted at the dismissal. “Come on, Phil-bill, don’t be like that. Look, don’t you like my costume? I wore it just for you!” She did a fanciful turn, being sure to bounce their tits hard as they did.
Tara and I shared a look as the stiff beta looked Jennie up and down.
His head didn’t move, but I swore even in the dark shadows from the lit sign above him that there was a slight pink to his cheeks. “You look nice, Jen. Enjoy the festivities.”
“Brutal,” mumbled Charlie.
Phil cleared his throat. “Jesse, as a mated beta, your paperwork is a little different. Can I have you come here, please?”
The sexy pirate pursed her lips, green eyes flashing as she strutted away with a flick of her dark hair, hips swaying in anger.