Chapter 7
Silver
“Holy shit, babe,” Aero eventually breathes, shaking his head in stunned disbelief.
Of course, he’s stunned. I mean, my parents paint a pretty picture, and I’m confident pack Larsen Googled my name and parents before they moved in this weekend. I know I Googled them, finding absolutely jack shit on the five men living in my house, but I wouldn’t receive such grace. One look online would show a happy, rich family with an omega daughter that they dote on.
What a crock of shit. The only ones who’ve ever doted on me are my grandparents and Alek.
Snorting, I nod. “You can say that again. I lived with Meemaw from then on, ended up on suppressants, and was pushed to do anything and everything that took my fancy. The only thing I kept was my love of music, my ability to play piano, guitar, and violin, and being able to survive on six hours sleep. Though, just because I can survive it, I will turn into a miserable bitch without my full eight hours.”
Aero chuckles, though it doesn’t hold the same vibrancy and life that it usually does, and I don’t like that at all. I prefer the bright laughter, the one that brings me butterflies I want to smother.
Before I can do or say something to get that laughter back, Aero finally asks, “So, why are you going to this charity ball? Or, more importantly, why have you been guilt-tripped into going?”
At this, I smile. A fond, loving smile, because although that old woman did guilt-trip me, it was only done out of love. “Because Meemaw and her husbands are the main benefactors of the new, and free to the public, Omega clinics that are being built throughout the country. Additional clinics to the Omega centers that will help omegas when their designations come in, that will provide information and opportunities for learning how to live as an omega, exploring options when it comes to heats and such.”
“Oh, shit. That’s amazing,” Aero rushes, mouth agape and eyes lit like he’s genuinely excited about the prospect. I’m sure he would be, since he’s an omega himself.
“I don’t know if you ever experienced The Centre, but they’re more about setting up omegas for heats and shit, you know?” I ask, curious about Aero’s past. I mean, I’ve spewed my life story to the guy already, so it’s only fair to wonder about his, too, right?
He shakes his head. “I can’t say I’ve ever been to one, honestly. Munro and I have been friends since before our designations came in, and Munro always made sure I had everything I needed when my heats hit. Foster kids don’t tend to have what they always need, especially not omegas.”
Well, shit. That makes me feel like an asshole for my story.
Wincing, I mutter, “Sorry. I probably sound like a spoiled brat to you, huh?”
“Not at all,” he’s quick to assure, reaching his hand for my tight and squeezing one, setting off a different burst of butterflies in my belly and nether region. Fucking hell, this is so not the time.
Subtly, I open the window, inhaling the fresh air deeply in an attempt to clear my mind of the crawling arousal that fills my body from a single touch, before I say, “Well, The Centre is more of a stopping point. Like, a place that will give you a secure room and necessities to get through a heat if you’re packless. Once your heat is done, they’ll provide you with suppressants if you need them. That’s basically the top and bottom of it. Even Juniper had a shit experience with them. And after my experiences with The Centre, Meemaw decided that omegas should be better educated on their own bodies and designation. They’re learning hubs as well as clinics that will offer different forms of suppressants, from pills or injections, along with scent-cancelling measures like shampoo, body wash, and spray.”
“That sounds incredible. Your Meemaw sounds awesome,” Aero gushes sweetly, hand still on my thigh, and I smile over at him briefly before focusing back on the road.
“She is,” I agree. “Which is why I’m going to the benefit. It’s a big deal for her and my Paws, and they did it with me in mind. I’d be a brat not to attend, even if my parents are hosting the thing.”
“That’s fair. I can understand that, I guess,” Aero relents, his thumb stroking a line over my thigh, back and forth, back and forth, driving me out of my mind. “But why did they agree for your parents to host the party?”
“It’s all politics. My mom, Meemaw’s daughter, does a lot of charity work because it makes her look good. Her charity benefits always bring in the biggest donors and a heap ton of dollars. That will help expand the clinics further and provide more help to omegas. So, even though this was a clever, little tactic for more publicity for my mom, her endeavors, and my parents suppressant company, it means Meemaw will get more funding that isn’t coming just directly out of her pocket and the Omegashine Foundation that she funded when I was sixteen,” I explain, sharing just how incredibly Meemaw, Paw Hudson and Paw Copper are. There’s no one like them in the whole world, and I’ve never been prouder to be their granddaughter. With a shrug, I answer the next question I’m sure Aero would conjure next, “Pretty sure my mother is hoping they can talk to my grandparents into supplying their brand of suppressants at the clinics, but it’s not going to happen. They want nothing to do with their shit, but the ball is a strategic play to ensure more money for the clinics.”
“Well, shit. That was more than I was expecting,” Aero breathes, sinking into his seat with a somewhat dazed expression on his gorgeous face. A face that I could easily dream of, with his high cheekbones and sharp jaw, glittering, pale-blue eyes, and a body to die for. The man is a walking fantasy that smells like Christmas.
I smile. “I don’t tell people my life story, because what’s the point? The only person to stick around is Juno. Alek, his pack, and Meemaw’s pack don’t count, because they’re my true family, along with his mom and dads. But Meemaw’s accomplishments? Hell, I’ll scream those from every rooftop.”
Aero laughs, and it’s that bone-tingling, heart-tripping sound that has my perfume leaking a little. Down goes the window again, and I hope and pray he doesn’t scent it on me. The last thing I need right now is to be confined in my car with a sexy omega being sweet while my perfume is signaling that I’m turned on by him.
“So, you’re going to this benefit dateless to support your grandmother, even though you know you’re going to get accosted by your mother by potential packs you have no interest in? You have no interest in them, right?” he asks, and I’m sure there’s a funny, little bite to his words I don’t quite understand.
Eyebrows raised, I nod slowly, confirming, “Definitely not interested. Every dude my mother prances in front of me is so far away from being my type that it’s laughable.”
Did Aero’s body just relax at my words? I think so, but before I can ponder on it, analyze it until it makes no sense, and overthink the action, he shrugs a shoulder and easily offers, “Then do what Lazarus suggested. Take a pack with you and claim them as yours. She’s bound to leave you alone then.”
I frown, pulling into the quiet street my house lives on. “Oh, yeah? And where am I going to find a pack willing to go along with that shit?”
I turn to give Aero a mocking smile, only to find him already grinning at me. My smile falls instantly, and I eye the guy carefully before I look back to the road, flicking on the indicator and turning onto my driveway.
“What? What’s that look for?” I query cautiously, parking the car before turning toward the omega, all too aware of his hand still loosely gripping my thigh.
“I have an idea, but it involves you breaking the ‘ignoring pack Larsen’ rule you’ve put in place,” he declares, answering nothing and sparking more questions.
Snorting, I raise a single unimpressed eyebrow and inform, “Bold of you to assume I was going to be able to abide by that rule. Munro pisses me off enough that my filter disappears entirely and I have to snap back. It was a failed mission from the get go, but a valiant attempt at being petty.”
“If you say so,” he placates, and I flip him my middle finger, laughing when he does.
Man, this feels nice. Really fucking nice. Just talking to, laughing with, and enjoying the company of another. Sure, Juno is a riot to hang out with and I love the bones off my spicy, little kitten, but there’s something vastly different about hanging out with a guy I’m crushing on and enjoying every second of it.
“What do you say about putting some trust in me for the next hour?” Aero quizzes, an open expression on his handsome face, like he’s hoping I’ll give my trust easily.
It might be stupid, asinine really, but I do. I can’t help it. There’s something undeniably trustworthy about Aero, something that screams at me that he’s one of the good ones. So, I nod with a loose shrug. “I guess so. Why, what’s happening?”
“All will be revealed, babe,” he quips, winking at me and sending my heart into overdrive. A wink, a term of endearment for a second time, and his thickening scent that swims around me? Hot damn, it’s a miracle I don’t just melt right into the seat. “Come on. We have a plan to enact.”
He’s out of the car before I know it, and I’m forced to scramble after him like an idiot, my car locking with a beep as I move far enough away with the key fob still in my pocket. Once I’m close enough, Aero holds his hand out for mine, and I don’t know what possesses me, but I take it easily, enjoying the way he links our fingers together.
Together, we head inside, and just as the door shuts on us, Aero wonders, “So, what is your type?”
“Huh?” I ask, confused about this line of questioning, my brain short circuiting from the warmth of his hand. “Type of what?”
“Guy, babe. What’s your type of guy,” he laughs loudly, tugging me closer to his side.
Blinking rapidly, I shake my head and narrow my eyes on the snooping, little goose. Have I not shared enough today? I’m not about to get into what guys are my type, especially because I don’t wish to be embarrassed about all five of my types living in the same house as me right now. That’s not a conversation that needs to happen today or… ever.
“That’s for me to know and you to keep your nose out of,” I answer with a smartass smile, my brain cells coming back to fully functioning slowly but surely.
“Damn, you little hardass,” the omega snickers, squeezing my hand and rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “You could have just said ‘sexy omegas named Aero’ and saved me the trouble of figuring it out.”
“Oh my god, you’re incorrigible,” I blurt, right before I start laughing at the boldness. This guy is something, alright. I thought I was extroverted and confident enough to speak my mind, but this is something new and refreshing. A vibe match I never saw coming. I like it.
Grinning widely, Aero leads us through the house, apparently already well-versed on the layout. Hand in hand, we walk toward the living room, with its massive square couch, projector for a television that is currently playing a movie I recognize, and an entertainment system Alek practically creamed his panties over when it was installed.
Sitting on the couch are the four remaining members of pack Larsen, stinking up my house with their combined scents and setting my hormones into a tizzy. I’m half wondering if I took my damned suppressants today with how my body is reacting.
Just as we step into view, we’re the center of attention, each pair of eyes landing on us with a creepy sort of synchrony that I’d mock if I wasn’t all too aware of the way their gazes are taking in mine and Aero’s entwined hands. No one mentions it, though they sure do send Aero some questioning, curious, or downright disapproving looks. Munro is a dick.
“Yo. I thought you guys said you were busy?” Aero greets, damn near dragging me into the living room. Now that I’ve seen the others, witnessed the scowl on the miserable beta’s face, I don’t really want to be in here. My nest is safer. Or my studio. Oh, yeah, maybe I can fake an assignment and scurry off to my studio.
Like he knows what I’m already thinking, Aero tightens his hold on my hand and pulls me to the couch, dropping his body into the cloud-like, cushiony goodness and pulling me down with him. I land with a breathy oomph , almost falling on top of Aero, and he snickers as he manhandles me into an arrangement where I find my side pressed snugly against his. What in the fresh hell is happening? It’s been a day. A single day, and I’m already folding enough that I’m allowing a manhandling to take place in my own damned home. What is wrong with me?
“We figured if you were taking a day off to go hang out with the rich, then we were taking the day off, too,” Haze answers none too nicely, and I feel my whole body stiffen in response.
Aero’s hand tightens in mine, and if he’s afraid I might run away. A valid concern, because his hold is the only thing that prevents me from being able to get up. I’ve tried already, and I’m stuck, the bastard.
Scowling at his packmate and alpha, Aero volleys, “Don’t have to be a dick about it.”
Rage simply shrugs, eyeing me only briefly before he looks away, peering back at the movie about a man who’s resurrected after he and his soon to be wife are brutally murdered on the night before Halloween, the day before they were due to be married.
Focusing on the painted face of Brandon Lee instead of the pack around me, I try to tug my hand free to cross my arms, only Aero won’t let me. So, I simply huff my disapproval and focus on watching the movie, tuning all of them and their mouthwatering scents and bad attitudes out. I mean, where’s the appreciation for giving them a place to stay, for fuck’s sake? What’s a girl got to do to get a ‘thank you’ around here?
I’m scowling at the wall, barely watching the movie and dutifully ignoring the rest of whatever the hell conversation the omega has with his pack, when Aero states, “Whatever. I have a proposal to make.”
“The answer is no,” Munro snarks, sending me a scathing look before turning in his seat, as if that’ll make me disappear.
Glaring at his back, wishing not for the first time that I had the super ability to set someone ablaze with a look alone, I almost miss it when Aero blurts, “Silver needs a date to this charity thing, and I figured we’d take her.”
I mean, the jackass might as well have thrown a grenade into the middle of the room for all the effect his words have. Munro snaps his whole body around in a way that looks painful, a purely horrified expression painted on his sexy face as though the idea is the worst thing imaginable. Rage doesn’t look any more pleased, but his expression reads as more of a distaste than a downright revulsion toward the idea, kind of like he just stood in shit and now has to clean the bottom of his shoe. Charming. I’m clearly the shit in that particular scenario. Love that for me.
Haze looks confused and curious all at once, though there’s a wariness in his eyes that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. It’s Pace, however, who stares at me and me alone with an intensity that sets my heartbeat into overdrive. He’s serious, as per usual, but there’s something wild about having his focus on me without being able to read his expression. He’s probably still wary of me after my morning outburst. Good. Let him be wary.
Looking away from those golden-honey eyes, because one could seriously get lost in those suckers, I focus my ire on the omega still holding me captive. “You know that trust you asked for? You just shit on it. Shit on it so good that it’s everywhere. There’s shit on the floor, shit all up the walls, in my hair. Total shit explosion. You’ve thrown that shit in the fan, and it’s painted the entire room a steamy shade of brown. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
In this moment, I hate the adorable grin that amplifies his beauty, I hate the way his laughing makes me want to laugh, too, and I absolutely despise the way he’s looking down at me as though he’s never met anyone quite like me, because I’ll be damned if being pissed with him isn't made infinitely more impossible when he does that. Damn it all.
“You said you’d trust me, babe,” he reminds me through his chuckles, as though I wasn’t already aware of the mistake I just made.
“I’d have thought better of it if I knew what you were planning. Hindsight is a bitch,” I retaliate, glaring at the omega, even as my lips twitch with a severely repressed smile. He isn’t getting one. He doesn't deserve it. “Now unhand me, heathen. I have places to be that aren’t here. I’m not even going to fake an assignment like I was originally going to. Fuck it. I want to be far, far away from here, and I’m more than okay making that known.”
“Oh, like you were making it known that you were ignoring us?” Haze quips, amused now. Really amused. Oh, yeah. His stormy eyes are lit up like the fourth of July, a cute, little smirk on those kissable lips, as he stares me down with a challenging look that would be funny if this entire situation wasn’t ridiculous.
My vow to ignore them all goes flying out the window once more, and I scowl at the friendlier twin of the two. “That wasn’t me. That was Aero. I clearly suck at ignoring people.”
Haze snorts, his eyebrows raised in amusement, and I roll my eyes at him as he jokes, “No shit.”
His brother’s lips twitch, but it’s the only outward sign that he finds this whole thing funny. I’d like the ground to open up and swallow me deep-throat style, finding very little about this whole thing funny.
“Why do you need a date?” Pace finally asks, intense eyes pinning me in place as effectively as Aero’s hand.
I frown. “I don’t.”
“You do, you liar,” Aero snickers. “We just had a whole conversation about it.”
“Oh my god, I’m going to actually kill you,” I threaten, vowing here and now never to trust Aero ever again.
“Sure thing, babe. If you say so,” he answers carelessly, even patting me on the hand like a condescending dickface. Then he ignores me entirely, speaking to his pack as though I’m not even there as he explains, “Silver promised Meemaw she would be there, but her cunt mother will be there trying to shove pack prospects up her ass, so we’re going to take her as her fake pack to thwart any matchmaking attempts.”
“What the fuck?” Munro snaps.
Haze’s amusement doubles. “Fake pack?”
“I didn’t sign up for that,” Rage blandly notes.
And Pace, well he simply stares, the intensity doubling in his gaze as an array of emotions flitter across his features, contemplation being one of them.
Eventually, he asks, “You need a fake pack for this party?”
I don’t answer. I refuse to give him or the others the satisfaction, because I’ll be damned if I ask them for anything.
Aero has no such qualms, and I seriously second guess my decision in befriending him. “She does. And I figured, since she’s offered us a place to stay, it’s the least we could do to repay the favor. Right? One party is all.”
Haze actually looks like he’s thinking it over while his twin focuses back on the movie as though he’s done with the conversation. That’s fair. I’d do the same if I wasn’t so thoroughly mortified. Munro is still staring, aghast and troubled. What’s new? But Pace? The dude won’t stop staring at me. I’m starting to develop a damned complex or something.
“I mean, we could finally see how the other side party it up,” Haze notes, like he isn’t appalled by the idea but intrigued. What a funny little turn of events.
“It’s not that great,” I inform, forgetting the ignoring thing again. “It’s stifling, the food isn’t always great, and my mother is an insufferable bitch who will judge you the moment she sets eyes on you…”
My words trail off and I squint at Haze, a calculating thought spawning in my mind. I’m sure it plays out on my face, too, because the look Haze sends me is one of both amusement and a sprinkle of concern.
He should be very concerned, because I just realized what an incredible idea this is. Perhaps my trust wasn’t entirely misplaced, because simply picturing my mother’s reaction to my arrival at her benefit party with a pack she didn’t choose, vet, or approve of as though she even has that right anymore has an almost maniacal grin growing on my face.
Oh, yes. I think I like this idea. I like it a lot. I simply need them all to agree to it now.
Game on.