Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
My Alphas are slack-jawed, staring at the beautiful Omega we have fantasized about for years. It is so surreal to think that not only is she here, in front of us, but she’s our scent match.
Our beautiful, orange-scented Omega with silky hair and creamy, ivory skin.
She’s perfect. Better than my dreams of her.
That has to be why all of us felt so drawn to her from the moment we “met” her, right?
She was always ours.
The television alerts with an aggressive chime, startling the shit out of me. Bradley’s face fills the screen.
“We’re sending medical in.” He sounds pissed.
“No.” I can count on one hand the times I’ve heard Derrick bark. It doesn’t have much of an effect on Bradley through the cameras, but I wince. “She’s not hurt, she’s overwhelmed. The last thing she needs is more people in here.”
Bradley does not look convinced. “She needs to be checked out.”
“Look.” Ivan’s gaze is darting between the multiple visible cameras, as if he’s trying to figure out how to look Bradley in the eye but can’t decide which one to focus on. “She was overwhelmed by all of our scents at once. This isn’t an illness, this is an Omega who needs her Alphas.”
And her Beta, but sure.
I don’t think either of them thinks I am any less than because I’m a Beta, but honestly, it’s a little annoying sometimes to know that there are things I will not be able to do for Onion because I am a Beta and not an Alpha.
The “not having a knot” thing doesn’t bother me as much as not being able to purr for her, which neither of these dumb assholes is doing.
“Hey, Alphas. Why not try purring for your Omega?” I can’t keep the smugness at the idea being mine out of my voice.
What would they do without me?
Derrick blinks at me with wide eyes before clearing his throat and forcing out a stuttering purr.
It’s a sound I’ve never heard from him before, and it’s a little awkward, but he’s making it work.
Ivan’s usually jovial face looks stricken dumb, but he reaches out a hand to touch her while the sweet sound spills out of him.
“Hey, Onion.” I move around Derrick so I can sit by her head and stroke her hair from her face. “I know this is a lot. This isn’t what you expected or what you wanted from this experience. I know that. But give us a chance, okay? You know us, even if right now we seem like strangers.”
After a few minutes of purring, the video feed on the television shuts off, Bradley and the producers deciding that what we’re doing right now is better TV than sending in some medics.
I may not be able to purr for her, but there is something only I can do right now. “She’s not going to like waking up in your arms. We should take her to one of the bedrooms.”
Derrick looks at me like I’ve slapped him. “I don’t want to leave her alone!”
“She won’t be alone. I’ll stay with her.”
“Why would you stay with her? She’s going to be mad at you, too.”
Alphas. So handsome, yet so dumb.
“Because I’m a Beta. She came here planning to meet Sax, whom she thought was a Beta.
I am a third of Sax and a Beta.” I stand and hold my arms out, making grabby hands toward the Omega.
“I’ll warm her up to the idea of you two.
I’ll be your fluffer. Come on, it makes the most sense. Give her here.”
Ivan finally throws himself into the conversation. “That’s actually a good idea. I feel like waking up surrounded by us will knock her right back out.”
“Correct you are, Left Alpha. I guess even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
Ivan rolls his chocolate brown eyes at the nickname. He became Left Alpha, Left, LA, about a year after we met, named so because he’s never right.
God, I’m funny.
“Come on. I’ll take her, you guys get our stuff put away, and start on lunch.
” I gently lift our Omega from Derrick’s arms and turn to leave.
Before I get too far, I glance at the two of them over my shoulder.
“Actually, maybe make it brunch. With mimosas. I feel like we’re all going to need a little liquid courage to get through the next conversation. ”
Onion fits perfectly in my arms. I’ve seen pictures, but I was never able to video chat with her, for obvious reasons, and still photos did not do her justice.
She’s a shade or two too pale, which is to be expected for someone who doesn’t go outside, and her skin is so soft I want to rub myself against it like a cat.
Her milky, sweet orange scent is mouthwatering.
She is perfection made flesh.
If she bonds me, how will her scent change mine?
Like most Betas, my scent is muted—not as strong as that of an Alpha or an Omega—but I have never gotten a complaint about it.
Derrick says I smell like an orchid, which, until I met him, I didn’t even know had a scent.
He was the first person to say anything more specific than, “sweet and floral.”
Maybe that’s how I knew he was mine.
When an Omega chooses to bond with an Alpha or Beta, their scent will adjust their bonded mate’s slightly, a way of telling the world that this person is taken. It’s a biological claim.
I set Onion on the bed before closing the door behind me, careful not to make too much noise and startle her awake. I sink onto the edge with a sigh. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. It was unrealistic to expect her to be thrilled about the revelation and jump into our arms.
But I didn’t expect her to pass out from overwhelm.
I can hear my Alphas banging around in the kitchen as I adjust myself to stretch out beside our Omega, and wait for her to open her eyes, so I can see for myself just how green they are.
I’m a creep.
A big ol, grade-A, certified weirdo.
But I’m sure no one could blame me for holding my Omega’s wrist up to my nose for going on an hour now. She smells so good. Like the one thing I wanted more than anything in this world has finally come to pass.
It’s then, with my eyes closed in rapture at her sweet scent, my nose pressed tightly against her skin, that I hear my Omega’s voice for the first time in person.
“What are you doing?”
My back goes rigid, and I drag my eyes to hers, her arm still firmly clutched between my fingers. Her eyes are tired, a little glassy, but the prettiest, pale green that I’ve ever seen.
She’s beautiful.
“I’m Grant.”
“Hi, Grant. What are you doing?”
“Uh. Smelling you?”
That sounds even creepier out loud than it did in my head.
“Can I have my arm back?”
I drop her wrist, and that movement seems to break the spell we were under, because she shuffles as far away from me as she can on the bed, her chest heaving. I can practically see the anxiety coming off of her in waves.
“Tell me that was a dream. Tell me that it’s not true. Tell me you’re not Sax. That all three of you aren’t Sax.”
She sounds desperate, her voice pleading as she begs me to lie to her.
For a brief moment, I consider having this conversation with everyone around.
Opening the door and calling to my Alphas to come in here so we can work this all out right now.
But I don’t. I’m making the executive decision that this needs to come from me, and she needs to be able to process it on her own, without two anxious Alphas breathing down her neck.
“I’m sorry. We are Sax. And it was wrong to lie to you.”
“You’re a Beta.” Her nose twitches, like she’s registering my scent for the first time. I hope she likes it. “You’re my scent match.”
“I am. Both of those things. How does that make you feel?”
“I don’t know. This is a lot. You’re my scent match.”
I’m letting her process things out loud, stating the obvious as she tries to make sense of what is happening around her, because I know she sometimes needs to ruminate before things start to click.
I know that because I know her. I’ve watched as grey bubble after grey bubble popped up on my screen as she typed out everything that she was thinking, trying to help her make sense of her racing thoughts.
I’ve listened to hours of voice memos as she repeats herself, going in circles, rambling, and asking for advice before settling on the correct answer on her own.
I know all of this, and I don’t know her name.
I know all of this, and she just learned mine.
It’s starting to hit me how awful this situation is for all of us. Lying to Onion hurt her, but we’re not getting out unscathed.
I’m in love with a woman who didn’t know I existed. She doesn’t know that I’m the one to whom she sent those late-night texts when she worried she was unlovable.
She doesn’t know that it was me who cried with her when she watched a movie where the dog died.
She doesn’t know that any of it was me.
She didn’t even know I existed until I walked through that door.
I didn’t realize how much it would hurt to love someone, to know someone, and yet be a stranger to them.