Chapter 8 #2
“Listen,” my eyes blaze, “more than anyone, I understand what it feels like to be made to feel lesser and not worthy because you’re not someone’s scent match. To be rejected and abandoned because of it. Did you really think that I would do the same to you?”
I kiss him, punishingly.
When I pull back, we are both breathing hard.
“I hoped that you wouldn’t,” Icarus admits quietly. “But finding a scent match is a powerful thing, and the Alpha may not want me as part of their pack. I would never put you in the position of having to choose. How can I compete, since they have so much more to offer?”
“We may not be bonded,” the words burst from me as if from my soul, startling both of us, “but you’re my Alpha.”
Icarus looks vulnerable in a rare way.
I’ve never openly called Icarus my Alpha before.
“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” He’s breathing hard. “It would break me.”
“My Alpha,” I repeat. “And I’m your Omega.”
“Finally.” Icarus breathes out like he’s been holding his breath for years. “My Omega.”
He lays his teeth on my neck over the scent gland where he would bite if he was bonding me. He lightly nips the skin, and I shiver.
Bite me, bite me, bite me…
When I glance at him, I can tell that he’s only just holding onto his control the same as I am.
“You’ll always be my Chief Alpha,” I promise.
“I’m a Sinner. Tomorrow, we’ll find our male Omega together and make sure that he’s okay.
Then we can jointly mentor him. You can hunt down the cute accountant Alpha, find out what he knows about the hotel’s finances as well, then arrange a date for us all. ”
“We’ll court them together.” Icarus smiles. “But in secret.”
I give a wide grin. “Fuck Omegas having to wait around for matching balls, being chosen, or being passed around like candy. I’m choosing my pack.”
Icarus grabs my hand, pulling me to the archway.
“You’ll be the first Omega in history to plot a heist, crack a safe, take over a company…and hunt down her own pack. I’m proud to be the Alpha at your side. Two Sinners together.” Icarus grits his teeth as he peers onto the stage. “Fuck my life. It’s time for my stage debut.”
“Just follow my lead.”
“Don’t I always?”
“Good Alpha.”
While he is still spluttering in outrage, I snatch one of the microphones that lines the side of the corridor. Then I dance onto the stage as the band begins to play a jazzy version of “I Am an Omega Elf and I love Being Put on a Shelf.”
A spotlight lands on me.
I cringe inwardly, as the guests’ attention is drawn onto me. I fix on a fake smile, however, placing my hand on my hip.
Maya trained me well for this.
“I am an Omega elf, and I know when you’re sleeping, and when you’re awake. So, you’d better be a good Alpha because I know whether you’ve been bad or good…” I sing, smoothly.
I twirl around, grabbing Icarus by the hand, swaying with him.
He wasn’t joking about not being able to dance.
His face is frozen in a terrified expression. He looks more like a deer in the headlights than a Santa having fun with his favorite elf.
I gesture frantically with my eyes to Bird to help me out.
Bird immediately encourages the rest of the elves and reindeer to join in the ridiculous elf dance that he choreographed, which at least distracts from the disaster of my performance with Icarus.
It’s impossible to miss the smattering of laughter from the audience now.
Shit, Maya will punish us for this.
Maybe the guests will think that this is meant to be a comedy routine?
When people say that they can’t dance, they are usually exaggerating. All Icarus needs to do is sway to the music and not look like he’s about to hurl from nerves.
He’s normally so in control and calm, I had no idea that he’d have such stage fright. Maybe it’s because he’s in front of the elites, rather than working behind the scenes with the staff.
I grit my teeth, as the laughter becomes jeers and boos.
My blood chills.
I begin to tremble.
My fake smile fades.
“I’m sorry,” Icarus whispers, standing frozen in the center of the stage. “What should I do? I’m not a performer. I don’t know how to make them happy.”
I don’t know either. I don’t fucking know. I don’t know…
Suddenly, my eye is caught by a Beta who is standing in the front of the audience.
He isn’t laughing or jeering.
Instead, he is watching both Icarus and me with a startling intensity.
The Beta is stunning.
He looks like an angel descended from the top of the grand fir tree, all in white with a sweeping coat that sparkles with silver thread.
He has translucent skin and sharp cheekbones that gleam under the lights with glitter.
Star shaped beads are woven into his shiny black hair, which falls all the way to his ass.
His lavender eyes are startlingly large and pretty.
It’s Immortal.
I stumble over my words, as my throat constricts under the pressure of performing in front of the Beta who I have looked up to for so long.
My literal Idol.
I’m dying on stage in front of one of the best performers in the country.
My throat is thick with tears. I clench my hands.
I feel wild with panic. My cheeks heat.
To my shock, Immortal appears to come to a decision, before he catches my eye and smirks.
Then he jumps onto the stage with a flourish.
The crowd falls silent in shock, before they explode into cheers, whoops, and chants of his name.
The atmosphere in the room immediately changes, buzzing with sudden excitement again.
Immortal gives a practiced smile, waiting for a spotlight to find him like the pro he is, before swaggering toward me.
My mouth becomes dry.
Am I dreaming?
Immortal holds his hand out to me, and like I am under his spell, I allow him to pull me into a slow dance to the jazz. The way that he moves, as if he’s a part of the music, is sheer art.
His slinky hips deserve an award of their own.
Then he pulls me close, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to shield us from the audience at the same time as making it look part of the show.
“I’m not an elf,” Immortal whispers; his voice is English and flirtatious, “but mind if I duet this one anyway, love?”
I struggle to reply like my tongue has become lead, “You’re more like an angel. So, how about “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing”?”
I arch my brow at the band, and they nod.
Bird organizes the omegas and Betas into a new dance arrangement to back me up.
Immortal smirks. “My pack would see me more as a demon. But I’m happy to be your guardian angel any time.
Sounds bloody brilliant, love. Just hang on a moment.
” He twirls me a final time, before letting go and dancing to Icarus.
The Alpha is watching like Immortal is a runaway train that he can’t get under control.
Immortal wraps his arm around my Alpha’s shoulder and says loudly for the sake of the audience, “Funny routine, big boy. Elves make me a horny mess too, and apparently, I’m an angel.
Everyone knows that Santa doesn’t dance.
Can I sit on your lap later? I promise that I’ve been a good Beta.
” The audience laugh, indulgently. The way that the Alphas in the audience are now hungrily looking Immortal up and down, however, makes me hunch my shoulders uncomfortably.
Is Immortal truly putting on such a sexualized performance to save both Icarus and me?
Serving himself up before this audience?
“But why don’t you get back to work? You must make sure everything is ready for Christmas.
Think of all the disappointed boys and girls otherwise, yeah?
Let the Christmas angel take over and make all these good people’s wishes come true. ”
When he winks at the crowd, they clap.
Immortal lets go of the much larger Alpha, giving him a deliberate shove.
Immortal is both pretending that Icarus’ disaster on stage was part of a deliberate skit, which he is in on, and giving Icarus the chance to escape off the stage now.
Please, take it.
When Icarus glances at me, I give him a furtive nod. His shoulders slump in relief, before he backs off the stage.
Immortal turns to me, dancing across the stage like rippling water, as his coat twirls around him. I stand frozen, mesmerized by his beauty.
I’m a housekeeper.
How can I duet on stage with a rock star?
Immortal grips the microphone like it’s a cock between us. “Ready, love?”
I tilt up my chin. “Always.”
When the band begin the swing jazz version of the carol, led by the double bass, I allow Immortal to take the lead.
His voice is incredible.
It stuns the ballroom to silence.
It’s smooth like caramel, making me shiver. I have grown up to Immortal’s voice, fallen to sleep to his songs, and danced with Bird and Hatton to his newest hits, pretending that we were some type of wild rebels rather than three young Omegas.
This is different.
It’s jazzy, improvised, and from the soul.
When Immortal pauses to share the spotlight with me like that’s the most natural thing in the world, it’s earth shattering.
What Beta performer shares the spotlight with an Omega?
Yet he’s smiling at me encouragingly.
When I sing, it’s as if something inside me is unlocked.
I’m not singing because my stepmom is ordering me to, out of fear of my tutor, or to make the Frosts look good.
Instead, the rest of the audience fall away, and everyone else on the stage.
No one exists but Immortal and me. There is no one but him and me, singing this song together and loving every single fucking moment of it. The words are ripped from me, as we improvise this song exactly as we want to…because it’s making us fly.
I am held in Immortal’s gaze and in each note that he sings.
It’s freedom.
It’s a revelation.
When Immortal’s last, soaring note fades, we are both staring at each other, as if we have been having a deep conversation, kissing, living an entire lifetime together.
We’re both breathless, staring at each other in shock.
Is it possible to start falling in love through a single song?
Suddenly, the wild applause all around me snaps me back to the reality that we’re not alone.
I stumble back from the Idol in shock.
This new feeling — closeness — is too much.
“Love,” Immortal starts in concern, but I stumble back.
I catch my foot, losing one of my elf boots. It jingles sadly.
“Let’s end the show on a high,” I rush to say, bowing hurriedly amidst the applause. “I have to go.”
“Why? Is it almost midnight and you’re going to turn into a pumpkin?” Immortal snatches up my elf boot and clutches it to his chest like he wishes that he was holding me.
I duck my head, hopping toward the archway, as the rest of the omega elves and reindeer stream after me, led by Bird.
Immortal bounces up and down, attempting to see me over them. “Hey, you haven’t even told me your name, Omega elf.”
I glance over my shoulder at Immortal, as he stands holding my boot like it’s Cinderella’s glass slipper.
I have allowed myself one brief moment of forgetting my real life. One moment of indulging in a fantasy with a Beta celebrity. One moment of enjoying the fairytale.
Aren’t I allowed that?
Then why are tears chasing down my cheeks to leave the Beta behind?
Because after all, Immortal is a celebrity guest, and I am a staff member.
Until after the heist, anyone who chooses to stay in this hotel is my enemy, even if they come disguised as an angel.