37. Brylee
37
brYLEE
A live quartet in full tuxedos plays in a corner, filling the space with soft sound. Chandeliers glow dimly overhead, and the clink of champagne glasses is a regular occurrence, as the elites of the city congratulate themselves on their latest victory. Perisseúō is exactly the sort of place my mother would expect an alpha group to take me, and it’s exactly the sort of place I hate. It’s the sort of place that bedazzles young omegas into believing the silky smooth lies of alphas.
I sit stiffly in my high-backed chair, grateful that our seats are tucked into an alcove for more privacy. Though I’m unsure I know any of the people mingling nearby, I really don’t want to run across anyone else tonight.
All the familiarity and lightness that Luka and I built up on the drive over evaporated the moment we stepped inside the elevator for the ride up to this luxurious rooftop restaurant, and I was hit by potent memories.
This was not at all what I expected the dinner with Luka to be.
I stare out at the stars and briefly wish he’d taken me to a drive-thru instead. Then, we could be sitting inside his car, cracking jokes about that silly podcast. He’d feed me some greasy fries, and I’d feed him some before swiping an imaginary dab of ketchup off the corner of his lips and letting him lick it off my fingertip…
“Penny for your thoughts?” Luka inquires as he places his napkin on his lap.
“Didn’t know my thoughts were worth so little.” I try to joke but my tone is flat and a bit sour. I’m sure he can tell, but what am I going to say? That I hate this place that probably will charge you a cancellation fee if we just walk out? He’s a professor. It’s not like he’s a millionaire…is he? That car says he’s gotten money stashed somewhere. But asking to leave the second we’ve arrived would be rude—bratty—after all the effort he clearly expended.
Ugh, am I being bratty? Is that what’s going on?
Annoyed with myself, I take a deep breath and straighten up. “Sorry. I just was kind of fantasizing about us staying in the car and going somewhere more relaxed.”
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but then his expression morphs as he leans forward and says, “I did wonder if this was the right spot. But then, you’re a princess. You know how they always say that it’s better to over-prepare? Or to dress better than the occasion merits? I applied that theory to this date.”
He’s completely serious, and his thought process is so cluelessly meticulous that it’s kind of adorable. I find it fascinating that he’s such a combination of formal, nerdy, and occasionally possessive—he’s a study in delightful contradictions.
“It’s a good theory. I just…” My eyes travel to the window, and I gaze out at the sparkling view of the city for a minute. “I have bad memories here. I’m sorry.” I know I’m apologizing too much, but what else can I say? It’s going to be hard to get through an entire evening in this space when I can already scent another omega perfuming in the corner. Her scent is so thick it’s like frosting… Bet she thinks tonight is proposal night.
Luka stands, extending his hand to me, and when I peer into his deep brown eyes, there’s a solemn understanding there. “Well, let’s go make better memories somewhere else.” When I take his hand, he yanks me close until I’m pressed against him, and I swoon a little—at his dominance but also at the easy way he’s accepting my desire to leave.
“Sounds good.”
He clutches me close for a moment, and yearning floats up inside my stomach as I inhale his scent. I nearly trip over my next thought…
He could be good for me.
Fuck. That’s utterly terrifying and I try to retreat, but he won’t let go of my hand. Instead, Luka turns and starts walking, tugging me along after him in a completely self-assured way that should be off-putting but isn’t. He ignores a waiter—a beta who hurries toward us with a worried expression—and breezes past the man, past the hostess stand, all the way to the elevator. I don’t make eye contact with anyone, don’t explain, just trot after him in my heels, completely unconcerned with where we’re going because it’s away from here and I trust him.
Only after he’s pressed the button for the elevator and pulled me in close, so that his hands can gently grip my hips, does he speak. “Were the flowers a disaster too? Be honest.”
I smile, my chest warming at how much he seems to care. “The flowers were amazing.”
“Okay, good. I’m absolutely not allowed to fail tonight, you know?” He brings a hand up to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear, and I have to fight against the desire to lean my cheek into his palm.
“How could you possibly fail with that podcast guiding you?” I tease, relieved that he’s reacting so well to the fact that this venue isn’t my favorite. The knot behind my shoulders is already receding. I just need to focus on Luka and everything will be alright.
He narrows his eyes, but there’s a twinkle in them as he leans down. I can feel his whisper ghost across my ear as he asks, “Are you feeling sassy tonight, Brylee?”
I bite my lip and try to think up a retort, but then…the world falls out from under me.
The elevator doors open, and out step three demons.
Tall, lanky, all dressed to the nines—my throat dries out and my gaze instantly drops to the marble floor. All the reasons I didn’t want to be here in the first place have manifested right in front of me. My heart takes off in wild panic as I squeeze Luka’s hand.
“Brylee?” A familiar baritone voice grates against my ear like sandpaper, the horrific sensation reverberating down my neck and sinking into my chest.
My eyes widen, and I’m stupefied—immobilized like a deer that stepped onto any icy river and just heard it crack. I dart a pleading stare toward Luka, but then there’s a hand on my shoulder and the ice cracks, sending me plunging into glacial waves of terror.
“You’re back.” Dion’s deep set eyes roam over me, and an indecipherable emotion crosses his face.
In an automatic defensive denial of this reality, I slide my gaze to the ground, and I notice polished black shoes step closer.
“Who are you?” Luka asks calmly as he wraps an arm possessively around me.
“Are you on a date?” Dion doesn’t bother to answer the question, just parries with one of his own.
There’s no air as the two alphas square off against one another. Meanwhile, I’m trapped between them as Dion’s aggressive scent pollutes the hallway, and memories clutter my head until I’m trembling. Behind him, I hear Torrence and Brian mutter greetings, but I don’t respond. I can’t.
Images flash behind my eyes.
Handcuffs.
Concrete walls.
A scratchy blanket.
Heat engulfs me, and my hearing shuts down as I grow dizzy. My heartbeat warps until it’s the speed of light, and everything in my vision blurs slightly, colors washing out until the world is only shades of pale purple. I can’t breathe, but I’m desperate to, trapped inside this body that’s now turned against me. That’s killing me.
Dark thoughts whirl around me so quickly that they’re all an incomplete, incoherent mess of misery. But I don’t need them to be complete to know I’m about to die.
A scream scratches roughly at my throat as I wrap my hands around my waist so that I don’t fly apart in a million pieces the way my thoughts already have.
“We have to go,” Luka mutters, and then his arms are around me, lifting me, holding me close—carrying me into the elevator.
Their scents linger in here, which only makes it worse.
It sends me spinning.
I can’t get a breath and I can’t force my lungs to move. My limbs are limp. Inside, I’m shouting, writhing, and desperate—but externally, I’m lifeless.
Luka jabs at a button and, once we start to descend, readjusts me until my nose is positioned in the crook of his neck. “Shhh. Just breathe me in.” Able to hold me with just one arm, his other strokes soothingly down my spine. As I breathe, the spice of his scent slowly erases the pollution of theirs, particularly after we exit the elevator and he carries me outside. There, the fresh breeze whips across my face, prickling up my skin and chilling my bones—but the slap of cold finally allows me to regain control.
I clutch at Luka, my fingers digging into his hair, my legs wrapping precariously around his hips, uncaring that we’re in public or that I’m making a scene. The only thing I’m aware of is this golden warmth emanating from him that I desperately need. I keep my nose buried after he stops moving as tears leak down my cheeks and soak his suit jacket until the howling squall inside of me quiets.
When I pull back, I can see mascara stains on Luka’s suit jacket, and I feel a tinge of regret. But that’s nothing to how utterly wrung out my limbs are. I don’t think I could stand.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “That seems to be the theme of the night.” My attempt at levity is ruined by the raspy catch in my voice and by the concerned look Luka gives me as he reaches up to swipe at my cheeks with his thumb.
“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what I can do.” His hand cups my face the way I imagined earlier, and I can’t help but regret the way that fantasy and my reality differ.
The fantasy is an alpha group will adore me forever.
I’ve already seen the truth.
In fact, the truth stared me in the face tonight—a good, harsh reminder of how this will all ultimately end.
Sliding down Luka’s body and stepping away from him, I avert my gaze. “Take me home, please.”
“But—”
I turn and start to walk away, fighting my clutch so that I can get to my phone.
His footsteps quickly catch up to me, and he reaches for me but doesn’t touch. “Okay, Brylee. Okay. I’ll take you home.”
The ride back is tense and miserable, and I spend the entire time staring up at the sky in order to avoid his gaze.
Once I get back to Darling and lock myself in my dorm room, I do the same. Stare out the window at the cold, cruel moon and wonder if anyone else has ever realized it looks like a frozen teardrop.