Chapter 2
. . .
ARCHER
The frazzled beta lifts another cloche, almost knocking it into the one next to it in her hurry to bend forward and sniff the candle. I watch her reaction as surreptitiously as possible, hoping that this might be the one she’s searching for.
My stomach sinks in sympathy when her nose wrinkles.
“Dammit,” she mutters under her breath, setting the glass dome back in place over the candle and scrubbing a hand over her face. When she approaches the checkout counter, where I’m dutifully pretending to be busy and not observing her shopping, I look up and give her my most charming smile.
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
She gives me a weak smile in return, which hopefully means I’m not about to get a tirade about how our stock is subpar or our scents are crappy. I’ve grown a thick skin since opening up Perfect Scent Match, because customers can be wild, but it still hurts when my products are insulted.
“Do you have any other woodsy candles?” she asks, her defeated tone making it clear she doesn’t expect me to.
I flash her an apologetic smile. “The stock we have out is all the scents we have available for pre-made candles.”
Her shoulders droop.
“But if you’re looking for a specific scent, we do customized candles,” I add brightly, hoping that’ll turn things around for her.
Her eyes light up. They’re a pretty hazel color that matches the gemstone in the bonding ring on her finger. The cause of her stress comes into focus too late for me, and I open my mouth to add that custom candles need to be ordered a week in advance, but the beta speaks first.
“Oh really? That would be amazing! I’ve been looking around for weeks trying to find the right thing, and when I stumbled on this shop, I’d hoped maybe it was meant to be.”
Her relief has guilt souring my stomach.
I really shouldn’t have said anything about the custom candles.
Now she’ll be upset with me, and the last thing my inner omega needs before going on a blind date is to feel like a failure.
I know that this beta waiting until the last minute to get a present isn’t my fault, but tell that to my tender-hearted, people-pleasing instincts.
“Going to be in trouble if you don’t bring home the right Valentine’s Day present for your mate?
” I ask, trying to assess how terrible I’ll feel if I tell her I can’t make something custom that fast. Because technically, I can make it.
I’ll have to work through my lunch and stay open later than I planned so the candle has time to cool and set, but I could do it.
Tears well behind her eyes, and she fidgets with her bonding ring.
Shit.
Her chin wobbles. “It’s for my omega. She won’t be mad. But I need to help her. I need to do something.”
Looks like I’m skipping lunch.
“Help?” I ask, confused by her response.
“Our alpha passed away unexpectedly a few months ago. Beth, my omega, is doing the best she can, but it’s hard on her.” She swipes away the tears that’ve spilled down her cheeks. “It’s hard on both of us. We loved him so much, but I can handle it… I don’t have the same needs as an omega.”
My vision grows blurry. I want to tell her that her grief matters as much as her omega’s, but I understand what she means. Her body isn’t constantly sending her distress signals about her missing alpha.
“I wish I could give her the comfort that he did,” she continues. “The comfort that an alpha can give an omega. I never cared about being a beta before, but now…”
My chest constricts at the raw grief in her tone. I’m stepping out from behind the counter before I can consider the inappropriateness of offering a hug to a customer, but I can’t stand there and watch someone who is clearly in distress without trying to help.
I open my arms for her, and she hesitates for only a second before accepting the hug. Her taller frame nestles a bit awkwardly against mine, but it’s the thought that counts.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I murmur, gently patting her back as her chest shakes. This poor woman not only has her own grief, but she’s shouldering her omega’s pain as well.
She steps back and clears her throat, wiping at her nose. Her gaze falls to the wet spot on my shoulder, and she grimaces. “Shit, sorry.”
I shake my head, waving her concerns off. “It’s fine.”
The beta nods, sucking in a steadying breath. “Anyway, I know candles don’t have alpha pheromones or anything, but I thought maybe if I could find something that smelled like him, it might help a bit. Maybe that’s stupid.”
I give her a watery smile. “Not stupid at all. I’ve made similar candles in the past, and research has shown that fragrance alone is enough to release oxytocin if it matches the scent of someone you love.”
“Really?” The beta’s expression brightens a touch, and I realize I should probably ask her name now that I’m fully invested in her and her omega’s happiness.
“Really. I’m Archer, by the way.”
That earns a soft smile. “Karissa. And my alpha’s name was Park.”
“I’m so glad you found my shop, Karissa.”
I opened Perfect Scent Match because I’ve always been fascinated by the power of scents. There’s magic in it. Scents can unlock memories, alter your mood, and even help you find your perfect partners. Here is a prime example of that. A potent reminder of why I love my work.
“Let’s go check out the fragrance oils and work on finding the right blend for Park’s candle.”
I’m going to be late. Crap.
Turns out, making a custom candle while also helping the influx of last-minute Valentine’s Day gift shoppers is a lot. It didn’t help that even with the sign flipped to “Closed”, a desperate-looking alpha saw Karissa inside while she was picking up her candle and came in.
I didn’t want to turn him away, my omega disliking conflict and the prospect of being alone in my shop with an upset alpha almost twice my size. So I let him shop, trying not to panic as the minutes ticked by and my time to get ready for my date dwindled to a fraction of what I’d need.
“Ah, fuck!” There’s not even time for me to wait for the water to heat up in my shower, so I endure what feels like freezing needles poking into my skin as I scrub down with my scent-neutralizing body wash.
Normally, I’d shave before a date, but there’s no time, so my small amount of stubble will have to stay.
I release a stream of profanity when I realize that none of my scent-blocking underwear is clean.
I was going to do a load of laundry after work.
The lacy briefs I’d picked up on a whim taunt me from their resting place at the back of my underwear drawer, saying, “you’ve fantasized about wearing sexy lingerie on a date, so here’s your chance. ”
Normally, I chicken out, worrying about what would happen if I got aroused, and an alpha scented my perfume.
I have a litany of horror stories my omega dad told me to draw my worries from.
Cautionary tales about how alphas fall into ruts at the mere scent of omega perfume, how they push and won’t take no for an answer, and how they’ll give you a bonding bite against your will.
If Dad could’ve convinced a doctor to give it to me, he would’ve put me on Preventar—that drug that keeps an omega from presenting—lack of clinical trials on male omegas be damned.
Instead, I’ve been on heavy-duty heat suppressants since I presented, because god forbid I end up in such a vulnerable state.
Dad’s paranoid voice rattling around in my head will have to deal. Not every alpha is a brute. I won’t be in danger because I wore lacy underwear on a date.
Hell, isn’t that the goal of this dating thing? Letting an alpha know I’m interested, and finally getting what I spend far too much of my free time fantasizing about? There’s only so much writing smutty fanfics and jerking off can do.
I need to get laid. I’m a 26-year-old omega who has never been knotted, for fuck’s sake. It’s time.
A jolt of nerves hits me knowing that time could be soon, if my blind date goes well. I don’t see why it wouldn’t. From everything I’ve heard, we’ll be a great match.
The alarm on my phone telling me it’s time to leave chimes, and I swear.
None of this will matter if I’m so late for my date that they’re gone by the time I get there.
I order a rideshare and, miraculously, am dressed and scrambling down the stairs from the apartment above my shop when it pulls up.
Waving frantically toward the car to let them know I’m coming, I race out to the street and lock the door behind me, swearing when it sticks a bit.
I almost get clotheslined by a couple holding hands as I blindly rush toward the rideshare.
“Sorry!” I exhale when I slide into the backseat.
“No problem.” The voice is deeper than I’d expected. The car smells like peppermint, cigarettes, and alpha.
My pulse spikes, eyes widening as I finally notice the middle-aged alpha man sitting in the driver’s seat.
Shit, I forgot to check the box for needing a beta driver.
He stares back at me, and I fight to keep my composure.
You shouldn’t get into cars with strangers, Archer. It’s too dangerous. Some lunatic alpha could take one look at you and drive off with you wherever they want.
When I don’t say anything, the alpha’s brow twists. “We headed to Parlor?”
“Oh! Yes. Correct. Thank you.”
“Sure thing.” The driver turns his focus to the road, seemingly disinterested in kidnapping a sweaty, flustered omega.
Of course he is. He’s just doing his damn job.
I hate that I’m like this. I hate that Dad’s voice won’t shut the hell up. It’s important to be cautious, but there’s a difference between caution and not being able to live your damn life because you’re constantly worried about a quarter of the population being predators.
I pull out my phone and text my date that I’m on my way, but running late, then switch over to my gaming guild’s group chat.
Archnemesis: If you read about a very cute omega getting abducted and murdered by an alpha serial killer who preys on rideshare passengers, it’s probably me.
Bow2MePeasants: See, this is what happens when you decide to go on a date instead of joining our raid.
BoneDaddy: RIP Archie. Gone too soon.
XrixQueen: I’ll avenge you.
I snort, my gaze flicking up to the alpha, who thankfully still seems entirely disinterested in me.
Archnemesis: It’s nice to know I’ll be missed.
Bow2MePeasants: Don’t get too excited. They’re only saying that because they don’t want to lose our best healer.
BoneDaddy: Ignore him. He’s jealous because he can’t get laid. Have fun on your date.
My gut twists at the implication that I’m having sex tonight. Not that I should be surprised.
I may have exaggerated my experience a bit. Or a lot. I just wanted to feel cool for once in my damn life, and it’s not like any of them are ever going to find out that I’m definitely not out hopping on knots across the city every night I can’t game with them.
A DM notification pops up from XrixQueen.
XrixQueen: Are you seriously in danger?
XrixQueen: If you think you are at all, I’ll give you my number and you can share your location with me.
A burst of butterflies fills my stomach at the idea of having Queen’s number. Even though I know she’s only saying this because she’s nice and understands what it’s like to be an omega.
Archnemesis: You’re so sweet to offer, but I’m okay. Just on edge because I’m running late for a blind date.
XrixQueen: Wow, me too!
Of course she’s going on a date tonight.
The name Queen suits her. She’s the coolest omega I’ve ever met. Not that we’ve actually met. I don’t know what she looks like, or even what her real name is, but I can tell she’s the kind of omega that makes people want to worship her.
Archnemesis: Oh, nice! I hope it goes well.
XrixQueen: I doubt it will, but you never know.
Archnemesis: Mine will probably be a disaster.
XrixQueen: haha then I guess I’ll be seeing you online later.
Archnemesis: It’s a date.
As soon as I send the message, I curse.
Yes, I have a crazy big crush on her. She’s the whole damn reason I started wondering what it’d be like to be with another omega.
The two times I’ve had sex were with betas, and it was fine, but my fantasies have always been geared firmly toward getting knotted or locked by an alpha. But Queen made me…think.
I definitely shouldn’t be thinking like that right before I meet a strange alpha.
Still, I grin when I see her reply.
XrixQueen: Can’t wait.