9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Pierce
I don't notice the way they stare anymore. It used to bother me. Every set of eyes in the room simultaneously trying to gawk and look away at the same time used to make me feel on edge. Not self-conscious. I haven't felt self-conscious since I was young and still trying to grow into myself. No, the way people look at me when I enter any space makes me feel edgy. Cagey. Short tempered. I haven't had an incident in a while; but the urge is always there, just under the skin.
It's the same with every Valla. Some of us handle the pressure of being on obvious display in public spaces better than others, but I don't know of a single Valla who is ever truly comfortable free roaming. We have to be mindful of every word we say and every movement of our bodies. A harsh breath can send whole groups of people running. It's just easier to stay away. It's calmer, too. I don't like having to temper myself to the extent that the general public requires. It's an unfortunately necessary evil.
I want to be free of all of it. I dream of never having to leave my estate. My ultimate goal is to find a mate, my scent match if at all possible, and raise a family away from this city that ruins everything that has the nerve to breathe its air. I don't want many children, just one or two. I want the package. The partner. I'd love to have a pack, but so far I haven't found anyone I'm compatible enough with to form a pack. My brother has a pack. He has everything. An Omega, who brought her Beta along with her, and an Alpha. To say I'm jealous is an understatement. And I have nowhere to put that jealousy, nowhere to express it the way I feel it. My brother loves me, and he knows that I love him, but even he becomes uncomfortable if I react to things the way I feel them, including jealousy.
So, I keep my distance.
I only come into the city for important things that I can't get out of. Or things that I want badly enough that it's worth the discomfort of being here and the risk of an incident. That's why I'm here now. I'm not getting any younger. I'm not old, but I'm definitely past the half-way mark. I want an actual life. I spent my youth building my business and making sure my brother had everything he deserved. He's settled. More than settled, if I'm being honest. I want to be settled, too.
But not with any of the Omegas that I've met today. I've met every single one who will be in attendance at the Selection tonight. All of them. That's why I sponsor this thing so heavily, so I get first choice. I don't care how unfair of an advantage that gives me. I built an empire, I should get to enjoy at least some of the spoils.
That's why I opened the CCOE. Sure, enrich the Omegas. Give them a safe place to be. A place where they should be able to breathe deeply and learn the things they're interested in. I made sure it would be open to Omegas of all ages because I remember how badly my mother wanted to learn how to paint. It wasn't safe, because it's never safe; and she was afraid to paint what was in her heart with chaperones watching her every move and reporting back to my father. He was a hard man. He took care of her, but he didn't allow her very much room to breathe. She deserved more than that, and CCOE is supposed to give Omegas a place to explore their goals and interests the way my mother wanted to. And it was. Until that bastard Doctor got involved.
He gave an initial impression of altruism. Making donations. Raising funds. Proposing better safety protocols. Those fucking protocols are what's corrupting the place. It's going to turn to ruin before too much longer, just like everything else in Coburn.
I wasn't there when the board voted him in, but I was there when his idea for the heat service was approved. I don't know why I was surprised. I shouldn't have been. Our society has made leaps and bounds toward progress, but the board for an enrichment center for Omegas is still run by a group of Alphas. There isn't a single Omega on the board. I doubt there would have been a different result even if there was an Omega on the board, even if there were ten.
Omegas go into heat. It's a fact. Inevitable and unavoidable. Outside of CCOE, Omegas are heavily chaperoned or sequestered away from society most of the time once they're mature; marked or not. It's for their own safety and I will agree with the safety measure. I have only been thrust into rut once in my life. It was when I was barely a man. Before I bought the property on the outskirts, I lived with my brother in the home we grew up in. It was walking distance from the city park and the library, and I often walked the distance whenever I wanted to go.
As I was walking home one afternoon, a young woman was walking, almost running, in my direction. I remember the strained look on her face and wanting to stop her and ask her if she needed help before a current of pheromones hit me right in the face. It took every molecule of willpower I possessed to stop myself from sprinting after her in a red haze of perfume-fueled lust and pinning her to the ground. To this day, I think the only thing that kept me in check was my outrage at the fact that she was that close to heat and out on the street alone.
“They're ready for you, Valla.” A soft spoken Beta smiles at me from in front of the door she closed behind her. “Do you need anything before you meet them?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you.” I smile at her, but I don't think it has the effect I want it to because she quickly looks away.
I hope this is the last time I do this. I'm tired of searching for perfect. At this point, I'll settle for good enough. I just want happiness.
~
I've met them all. I'm not doing it again. After the third group of Omegas, I realized I was nose blind and I was relying on some kind, any kind, of pull that would give me the impression of a connection. I wanted so badly for my fading hope to be worth more than wasted time, but I shouldn't have been surprised. The majority of the Omegas were from CCOE. All bright-eyed and optimistic. Well, they weren't all optimistic, there are always a few realists in the group. Regardless, they were all too something, and none of them felt right.
I give up. I'm going home. I'm going to live out the rest of my days alone. I'll start raising goats or something equally time consuming so I don't spend all of my time wallowing in how alone I am.
I take out my phone to call my driver. He's somewhere in the hotel, likely chasing anything in heels. I'll feel guilty for ending his fun when I get home, but right now I just want to leave the disappointment of this place. “Josef,” I say quietly when he picks up. “Please pull the car arou--”
Everything stops. My heart slams in my chest when I catch the faint notes of a sharply enticing scent just as I step outside the elevator. I whip my head from right to left, but the only people nearby are two half-drunk Alphas walking toward the ballroom.
“Nevermind … wait. Are you in the ballroom?”
There's a brief silence before he tells me that he is, in fact, in the ballroom. He isn't supposed to be in the ballroom. He's only supposed to be in the lobby and at the small bar at the back of the lobby. I shouldn't be surprised. He wants what everyone else wants, and he's young and curious enough to go looking for it despite my caution.
“Just stay there, Josef. I'll join you.” I hang up before he has time to express his shock.
There isn't anywhere else to look besides the ballroom. There isn't anywhere else anyone would be. I have never smelled anything so interesting in my life. It's more than interesting. I only caught the slightest trace of that scent and I'm ready to start climbing the walls to get to the source. It's like an itch that becomes more intense the longer you go without scratching until it starts to burn. Citrus … lemon? Lemonade? No, not lemonade. Definitely lemon, though. Sharp and jagged and just sweet enough to make my mouth water. Not floral. Not warm. Like lemon zest. We use lemon all the time at the bakery. This is like that. The sharp hit of lemon when you grate the peel, but with the scent of sweet cream and fresh cake just underneath.
Oh … oh my god. This is a scent match. It has to be. Nothing else would wind itself around me and claw at my senses like this. My match, my mate is here.