Chapter Four – Pax
I can’t believe this girl. I can’t believe fucking Rourke.
This was his job, not mine. Like hell do I want to play bodyguard to a petulant omega who wants to give the system a middle finger.
She’s had her first heat already—and that should make her an unbearable temptation to every unbonded alpha that comes across her, even me.
Don’t get me wrong, I have eyes and a nose. She’s too beautiful for her own good, but her scent… something about it doesn’t sit right with me. Like she’s masking it somehow, dampening it on purpose, if I have to guess.
Still, that doesn’t explain how she can act so normal around unbonded alphas like myself. Her body should be going crazy trying to find a match, a pack to take care of her. It’s biology. She might resist, even now, but someday she’ll be begging for an alpha.
Whatever. That alpha won’t be me.
The woman running tonight’s event, Delilah, leads Raeka and me to a table in the grand ballroom.
The crystal chandeliers hang, illuminating the large space and sparkling no matter how you look at them.
The tables are round, most of them already half-full with other omegas and their sponsors, save for the table we head to.
Each table has a couple extra empty chairs, for the hopeful alphas who will be let in shortly.
I’ve never been to one of these things. I don’t know exactly how it’ll go, but I do know that I’m going to be bored out of my mind. I’m not a sponsor. I’m literally the hired help, whose only job it is to look menacing and be backup so Raeka gets no offers tonight.
If she wanted no offers, she shouldn’t have dressed so… you know, like she did. With that dress hugging that body like that, she’s not going to make my job any easier.
And those eyes of hers. A strange mix of blue and gray, set beneath impossibly long eyelashes. All she’ll have to do to lure an alpha in is look at him and blink a few times, and even though her scent is muddled and unclear, she’ll still lure them in like a master fisherman.
Seriously, what’s wrong with her scent? I can make out an underlying hint of raspberries, but that’s it. It’s like my nose hits a wall.
Not like I care, of course. I don’t. I’m literally only here because Darius offered me up as a possibility for the job. Apparently I’m someone he’d trust with Mercedes, so that meant I’m perfect for this job.
Right. A fucking guard job. That’s noob work, even if Darius wouldn’t agree after what happened with Nic a few years ago. The hard truth is, Nic made a stupid mistake and paid for it. The typical bodyguard job is easy shit.
Once Delilah leaves, Raeka gets herself situated at the table.
She sits down and fixes her dress, and then she glances up at me.
The way she looks at me, like she can’t stand me, only infuriates me more.
She’s the reason I’m here, not the other way around.
I didn’t force her to do any of this, so her annoyance only serves to irritate me further.
“I want you to stand, like, two feet behind me all night,” she instructs.
“Scowl. Generally look intimidating. Shouldn’t be too hard for you—you have a fantastic R.B.F.
” Since I haven’t been given the go-ahead to speak, I only lift my eyebrows in response, and cause her to explain, “Resting bitch face.”
Oh.
“Although, since you’re an alpha, maybe it’s more of a resting bastard face.” She giggles at that, like she made a joke, which only makes me scowl harder—which, in turn, makes her laugh more.
Ugh, this should be fun.
Soon enough the scent of other hopeful alphas fills the room, as Delilah brings them in.
She must have a system she follows, because every alpha is brought to a table and instructed about how tonight will go.
Our table is the last to get a hopeful alpha, and to my surprise it’s a lone wolf that sits down across from Raeka.
But it’s the stupid grin on that lone wolf’s face that separates him from someone like me.
Who is it? Oh, someone very fucking familiar… and very fucking dead the next time I see him after this.
“Hi,” Rourke says, giving Raeka a warm smile, but the moment that smile shifts to me, it deepens in a gotcha kind of way.
“And hello to you too, Pax. You’re looking good.
I admit, I didn’t think you’d dress up tonight.
You and suits don’t mix that often. Me?” He runs a hand down his wide chest, along the classical white-and-black suit combo he wears. “I think I look damn good.”
I’m not the only one who’s caught off-guard. So is Raeka. She asks, “I thought you were sick?”
“Nah.” He shrugs her question off. “I’m perfectly healthy.
I was more than happy to be your bodyguard, but when I saw it was tonight, well…
I promised my parents I’d go to one of these things every year, so I unfortunately had other arrangements.
But don’t worry.” He shoots a quick glance at me.
“Pax here’ll take real good care of you. ”
She scoffs. “We’ll see about that.”
Rourke leans on the table between them. His blue eyes stare at her a little too hard; it takes more out of me than it should for me to remain rooted where I am. A part of me wants to pull Raeka up and take her out of here, so no other alpha can ogle her like that.
Don’t know where that thought came from. It’s one hundred percent unwelcome.
“Pax is…” He trails off, shooting me a sly expression. “You know what they say, right? All work and no play makes Pax a dull boy. Maybe this job’ll help liven him up a little.”
“So he’s all work and you thought it’d be a good idea to give him more work?” Though I can’t see it, I can hear the smile in her tone, and a part of me instantly hates she’s giving that smile to Rourke.
Fuck. I’m going to fucking kill him for this, mark my words.
“Exactly! See? You get it.” Rourke actually sends a wink my way, and a sound halfway between a sigh and a growl of annoyance escapes me. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to grab a drink. Do you want anything, Raeka, or should I leave you in Pax’s more than capable hands?”
I imagine my more than capable hands wrapping around his throat and squeezing the very life out of him—but that would be murder, and he’s technically my friend, so I can’t exactly go through with it. I can think about it long and hard, but I just can’t do it.
“I’m good, thanks. Good luck with… whatever tonight.” She watches as he salutes her and then leaves, and as he strolls away, she adds, “Sounds like he’s doing this to get his parents off his back, too. We have something in common.” She glances up at me. “He’s your friend or something?”
I nod once, and she smiles. I hate how that smile is so… so… goddamned perfect.
“Your talking privileges are restored,” she tells me. “How come you aren’t bonded to an omega by now? You’re the oldest Alabaster, aren’t you? I’m surprised your parents don’t push you to settle down.”
“Mom’s a beta. She’d never force anything on me or my brothers.”
“Oh, wow. I didn’t know your mom was a beta. Still, you’re, what, forty?”
“Thirty-five,” I bite out the words, practically hissing them out, slightly offended at the addition to my age. I’m not fucking forty yet. I still have a few more years until I hit that threshold, thank you very fucking much.
The giggle she lets out then does something me, as much as I hate to admit it. It’s such a light, sweet sound, and even though she’s technically laughing at me, I don’t care. Her laugh is fucking delectable.
Delectable ? Jeez. What the fuck has gotten into me?
“You might as well be forty,” she says, still grinning up at me. “You’re old. Alpha or not, it’s only downhill for you from now on. How does it feel to be on the tippy-top of the rollercoaster right now? Whatever you do, don’t look down to see how far to the ground it is—”
If she was anyone else saying those things to me, I’d have a few choice words. Mostly swearwords, but they would get my point across. But it is Raeka, and so I only stand there and bite my tongue instead.
Fucking Rourke. This is his fault. This whole night is completely his fault. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him. I wouldn’t have to stand there and take whatever she said with a grain of salt. I could be doing my own thing. I could be training, or at home trying to decompress.
I’d be alone, like I’ve pretty much been my whole life.
While everyone else my age was busy forming packs during childhood, I never saw the need.
Some groups tried to bring me in, but I refused.
Didn’t want it then, don’t want it now. Pack life is utterly uninteresting to me.
You can’t ever really depend on anyone else other than yourself. A pack is just a pretty lie.
Raeka’s words cut through my thoughts: “Really? Nothing to say to that? Wow. Maybe I overestimated you. Thought you’d be fun, but you’re just standing there, taking it. You might as well get on your back and take it like an omega.”
Okay. That one I can’t ignore.
Grinding my teeth, I take a step forward until I’m beside her chair, and I set a hand on the back of it, curling my fingers around it as I kneel down so I’m closer to her level—and closer to her face.
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” I ask, my voice so low it would send a shiver down anyone’s spine—and it certainly must affect her in some way, because she sits a little straighter, and she bites her bottom lip.
“Raeka Whittenhall. A spoiled, bratty princess from one of the founding families. I bet every alpha you meet is dying to get a taste of you, and you never let them, because you think you’re better than they are—and maybe you are. ”
She swallows hard, but she doesn’t look away. I have her.
“I bet you’ve never met an alpha that’ll put you in your place,” I go on, my voice now a deadly whisper.
“But guess what? My family’s just as old as yours is.
Your status doesn’t impress me, and your attitude?
Spend a little more time with me, say something like that again, and I won’t hesitate to teach you some manners. ”
Right when I think my point sinks in, Raeka leans closer to me and whispers, “Do me a favor and sate my curiosity, then—how exactly would you teach me manners? My family, all my teachers growing up, even my friends’ parents; they all tried, and they all failed.
So, Pax —” She breathes out my name in a way nobody else ever had. “—how do you plan to do it?”
I stare so deep into her eyes I nearly get lost in them as I search for clues on how she wants me to answer. Of course, I have a few ideas on how I could teach this omega some manners, but none of them are acceptable or appropriate to say to an omega who isn’t mine.
One thing is for sure: whoever this girl ends up with is going to have their hands full with her.
Their hands… not to mention other body parts, parts I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about right now.
Out of everything I could say, I settle for saying, “Guess that curiosity of yours isn’t going to be satisfied tonight.” And then I stand up and move a few feet back, giving not only Raeka some space, but me as well.
The longer I knelt there, the longer I was close to her… fucking hell. Even with her stifled scent, she’s doing something to me, and I don’t like it.
When I do that, she whines somewhat, disappointed in me for not furthering the game we tiptoed around—and it’s right then that we both notice we aren’t alone anymore: a pair of alphas had taken up the seats across the round table.
Right. She’s here to placate her parents and fuck up any possible matches.
I’d say I’m definitely helping with that, given the expressions on either of their faces.
They look like they know they’re interrupting something, and they exchange quick glances with each other as if they’re having a mental conversation only they’re privy to.
This girl. I’m going to kill Rourke for saddling me with the job tonight.
All I can say is, after tonight, she’s going to be Rourke’s responsibility, not mine. After tonight I never want to see her pretty face or those big, silvery-blue eyes again.