Chapter 19 Dixon
DIXON
“You’re full of shit,” I yanked the file from Ryder harshly, rage blooming in my chest. I was seriously dying inside, fighting ferality tooth and nail, and Ryder was going to start in again about that goddamn mystery Omega.
“No fucking way the girl you’ve pined for just happens to be our fucking match. ”
“Believe it, Dix.” Ryder managed to say, voice still thick with emotion.
Now that I was staring at the photo, my quick-to-ignite anger went from a five-alarm fire to a smoldering pile of ash.
The girl, though beautiful, had hollowed-out cheekbones and painfully pronounced collarbones.
Her hair was dull, not shiny. The purple-hued bags under her blue eyes made it look like she’d not slept in ages.
Was she one of those fame-fueled influencers I’d seen too many times—willing to starve themselves into a size zero?
Why did a fucking size zero even exist? It wasn’t a real goddamn size.
It implies that a woman’s size should be nothing instead of what she naturally should be according to her own fucking biology.
My brain started sliding sideways. It was easier to focus and mentally rant on something other than reality.
But then it dawned on me that Tessa could be sick. Fuck, she could be dying?
Rage began to build again. I was so tired of feeling angry.
It was exhausting. I was a damn pot on the stove, full of water, with the burner kept on medium-hot at all times.
I was always on the edge of boiling, all anyone had to do was adjust the temp knob the tiniest fraction.
I thought back to what Catalina had read from the email.
Our Omega was an orphan. Zero damn family.
I felt a little ashamed now. Only moments ago, I’d been prepared to track the girl down and bring her here immediately.
I’d wanted, no questions asked, to keep her safe.
I wasn’t sure what had flipped my switch.
Was it simply the fact that she was someone I’d resented for too long?
She was this stranger who’d kept Ryder obsessed, kept us from finding a match, or matches, earlier, and been like a phantom in our lives we couldn’t shake.
Maybe I wouldn’t be so fucking broken if not for her.
Still though.
There was no denying that there was something magnetic about her. Something buried deep behind those startling blue eyes. It was hard to stop looking at the photo.
“They’re trying to screw us over,” I grumbled, gaze still locked on the Omega’s face. “She’s either one foot in the grave, or the chick seriously needs a few cheeseburgers.”
“She looks fine,” Ryder growled, as if I’d personally offended him.
“Look at her again, man,” I snarled back. “Goddamn skin and bones.”
Ryder lunged for the tablet, but I held it off to the side, then lifted my other hand to slam against his forehead and keep him from coming any closer.
He began flailing, hands trying to hit me, but I easily kept him at bay.
Asshole tried to kick out, but I shifted my bodyweight and angled my lower half away.
Our sizes were just different enough that he couldn’t reach me with his manic, frenzied fists.
“Take your damn hand off me, you absolute dick.” He tried to kick again, nearly losing his balance and falling.
“Stop trying to attack me for telling the fucking truth and I will,” I huffed out.
“Not going to happen. You’ve made life hell for everybody.
Losing your shit. Breaking furniture. Going after fans.
” Ryder finally smartened up and targeted what he could actually reach—the arm extended towards him.
He gripped my wrist with both hands and yanked sharply.
My hand slipped off his face and next thing I knew, Ryder was biting my knuckles like a rabid dog.
“What the fuck, man!” I yelped, pulling back sharply. But Ryder, the wily mother fucker continued to latch on. “I’ve only been making life hell because you couldn’t let go of some chick you kissed.”
“Some chick,” Ryder mumbled, teeth still digging into my skin. “That chick is our Omega.”
Someone took the tablet away from me, but I didn’t turn to see who.
All I cared about was that I had another hand available.
I dug my fingers into Ryder’s hair and gripped tightly.
He winced, but he kept his mouth firmly clamped.
In fact, the asshole bit harder. He was going to draw blood.
I began pulling his hair towards the ceiling.
Let’s see how he enjoyed being lifted off the floor.
I wondered if his scalp could stand the pressure.
About the time Ryder had maxed out his height on tiptoes to try and relieve the increasing pain of me yanking his hair, Catalina’s voice broke into our brawl.
“Stop it, you stupid, macho idiots,” Catalina scolded. “She doesn’t need a cheeseburger. She needs an Alpha. Four Alphas, to be exact. You think you guys have been struggling? She has no family. She’s alone. And we’ve no idea what else she’s been through.”
Catalina paused, letting her words sink in, and then she spoke again. “Tessa is your Omega. She is coming here and whatever you guys need to work through, do it before she arrives. Do not ruin this because you all are too pig headed to settle your shit.”
Me and the guys were silent. Fuck, I didn’t think any of us were even breathing. Catalina rarely cursed. I dropped my hand from Ryder’s stupid forehead, and he straightened up and stared at our normally even-tempered publicist-turned-band mom.
“Great, I’m glad that’s settled,” she finally concluded when no one spoke.
She glanced at each of us in turn, her eyes narrowed and her face stern.
Her attention returned to the tablet afterwards, and after a few taps of her finger and a quick scroll, her eyebrows raised.
“Oh, I missed a postscript.” A smile softened her face.
“It seems the product testing department overnighted an item saturated in Tessa’s scent.
But…” now she frowned. “I mean, according to this timeline, it should have already arrived. Let me make a call.” She stepped away from us, heading towards the entrance foyer.
Product.
I really didn’t fucking like that they’d called Tessa a product. Tessa. I rolled her name over in my mind. Omega Tessa. Our Omega Tessa. Tessa, the Oblivion Haze Omega.
Catalina’s voice began floating into the living room.
A professional, perfunctory ‘hello’ followed by a call transfer to get her to the correct department, another greeting—more annoyance in Cat’s voice this time as she clarified that, yes, she was calling on behalf of Oblivion Haze, a V.I.P.
client—then, finally, she was able to ask the question.
A package was meant to arrive, and it hadn’t. Where the hell was it?
Me and the guys stood around stupidly, all unsure of what to do with our bodies.
Tray was doing his signature, and fucking stupid, bouncing from foot to foot like a boxer.
He’d probably start drumming on the furniture next.
Ryder had moved to a wall, shoving his body against it as if he needed the support or else he’d collapse.
Mac was a statue. Wasn’t even sure the guy was blinking.
I moved towards the glass patio doors, staring out at the pool.
Rain was starting to fall, creating tiny ripples in the water’s aqua surface.
A bird was chirping somewhere, maybe calling its companion home now that the storm was hitting.
Even through the glass, I could smell the weather.
Petrichor. I’d learned that stupid word from a game show rerun.
Petrichor. Earthy. Pleasant. Sweet. This was my favorite kind of weather.
Sometimes, I’d just go stand in a bad storm and let it soak me through.
Cleanse all the shit away. I loved swimming in the rain too.
I liked to sink to the bottom of the pool, shove my back against the smooth concrete, and stare up at the way the rainfall disturbed the world above.
I’d stay that way until my eyes stung from the chlorine and my lungs ached, desperate for oxygen.
Doing that these days wasn’t smart. Sometimes, I wanted to stay under the water until it was too late to breathe again.
Behind me, I heard the telltale sound of Tray thrumming his hands against the top of the sofa. Dull, muffled sounds of hands slamming dense cushion. At least he hadn’t chosen the coffee table or some hard shit. I didn’t think my nerves could handle him rhythmically pounding loudly.
The phone call was still ongoing. I’d tuned it out, but now with each word, Catalina’s voice was increasing in volume.
“If it was supposed to be a delivery with signature required, then it certainly has not arrived.”
Cat waited for a response, before speaking again.
“Look, I don’t know what half-ass delivery service The Eros Institute is using, but—”
The speaker on the other end must have interrupted.
“The Cupid Company is responsible for managing their own shipments. Is that how you’re planning to pass the buck?
As far as I am aware, the so-called Cupid Company is just a branch of Eros.
It’s branding.” Ice in Catalina’s voice now.
I almost felt bad for whatever asshole was about to get on her bad side.
A pause.
“I am one of the top PR agents in California, Beta Hopkins. I assure you; I know about branding tactics. I’m sure bringing in products is a lot easier with a cutesy name like Cupid.
Now, what I want you to do is go into your little system, find out the name of the delivery service and find out where the fuck Oblivion Haze’s package is right now. ”
Another pause.
“Yes, I’ll hold.”
Catalina walked into view, phone lowered from her face with the speaker engaged.
Saccharine elevator music—periodically interrupted with a brief blurb about The Eros Institute and how it was revolutionizing everyday life in so many ways—flowed from the cell.
“I swear if they hadn’t already found Tessa, I’d demand your money back. Absolutely incompetent.”
She disappeared out of view again.
Aside from taking too damn long, The Institute had done what they’d promised—a conclusive scent match for our pack as a whole, something that was statistically improbable.
I mean, our Omega wasn’t here yet, but the promise of her was already rooting inside my brain and heart and soul.
I’d hazard a damn guess that my pack brothers felt the same way.
I closed my eyes. Even without the photo in front of me, Tessa’s face bloomed in the darkness.
Bright. Mercurial. Perfect. Funny how my own mind erased the imperfections of the picture.
In my mind, she was plump and healthy and smiling.
Who fucking cared if she’d unknowingly caused our close-knit band of brothers to unravel? She could sew us back together, stitch-by-stitch, simply by existing in reality, instead of just in Ryder’s fucking memory.
“Okay, here’s the deal.” Catalina returned, shoving her phone into her pocket.
“They got ahold of the shipping company. The package is marked as delivered to the front door. Apparently, the signature requirement was just ignored. The Institute made all the excuses in the world, then assured us this kind of mistake would never be made again. Yada yada. They are sending you a complimentary fruit basket.”
“A fucking fruit basket?” I seethed.
“Maybe it’ll be a gold-plated banana,” Tray quipped from where he’d taken up residence on the sectional.
Mac, who’d been carved of stone during Cat’s phone call, broke out of his stillness and began walking towards the foyer. “If it’s here, then let’s find it.” He threw over his shoulder, obviously on a mission and not caring if we followed.
Ryder raced forward first, pushing from the wall like someone had just shot a gun and he was on an Olympic starter line. Tray skipped after them, boyish enthusiasm radiating from his body.
I hesitated, though every fiber of my being wanted to follow the others and desperately search for the scent proof that Tessa was real and our scent match.
I just needed a moment to get in the right headspace.
Taking a beat, pausing before I lost control, wasn’t something I did these days.
Going feral sounds like something from a porno, but in real life, it felt like a case of the Jekyll and Hyde madness.
Like the goodness in me couldn’t be found when the monstrous evil took over.
Somehow, in this moment, I was able to recognize that I was riding the edge.
I breathed deeply, pushing down my out-of-control Alpha nature.
Tessa. Tessa. Tessa.
Her name was suddenly on repeat in my head. A record with a singular word. The best damn music I’d ever heard.
My insides were a tangled mess. Resentment.
Desire. Need. Anger. Heartache. Hope taking hold.
The rain was still falling softly, steadily.
A soft rolling thunder began, like the backing track of a building, epic song.
An eighties ballad maybe. It still didn’t feel real that Ryder’s encounter in Seattle nearly two years ago was soon to be here, soon to be our mate.
I blinked, focusing on the living room with my eyes, but on the world outside with my ears.
Cat was still in the house. She gave me a curious look. I tried to smile to let her know I was fine.
“Be right behind you,” I managed, chest feeling tight, encouraging her to join the other guys.
“Okay, but we’ll wait for you if we find the package.” She padded away from me.
Turning back to view the pool, I watched those ripples in the water again and part of me wished I was lying at the bottom of the pool.
Each watery ring grew outward until it hit adjacent rings.
The impact caused the circles to change course.
To warp. To fade. But soon, fresh droplets started the cycle again.
The bird wasn’t singing any longer. I scanned the courtyard until I found two blue jays perched on a limb.
Jays mated for life. Another fact I'd only learned watching trivia games.
The winged pair was tucked together protectively.
The female shook her body gently. The male dipped his head and rubbed it against her chest. Their color reminded me of her eyes.
Quickly, I spun around and began striding after the others.