10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Beckett
The air feels electric. The energy weaving through this room has my stomach wound tight with anticipation. It can't possibly be because of the ball. I barely enjoy them anymore. The dancing and drinks are nice, but the appeal dies down after attending more than a few Selections. This has nothing to do with the ball and everything to do with energy.
I've been approached by several Alphas and circled by more than three Betas. No one has offered me a rose, not that I would have been inclined to accept one from any of them. Too young, too old, too something I can't put my finger on. I've been here for over an hour. I've met everyone there is to meet. There were a few Alphas that didn't look or smell half bad. Not a perfect match, but good enough. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm here for good enough. I can spend the rest of my life with good enough, so long as it's good. I'm going to give it another fifteen minutes before I take the cocktail that will push me into the beginning of my heat, and then I'll just hope for the best.
It's still selfish.
It's still dangerous.
And I still don't care.
Maybe that's why my stomach feels so tight. Maybe it's because I know what I'm planning to do.
There aren't any bad Alphas in the room. Not as far as I can tell, anyway. Some are a little more mild mannered than I would normally go for, but sometimes those are the best ones. They give the impression of being cool and collected, but when clothes start coming off, that can change; sometimes drastically. I'm going to take one more lap around the room and then I'll see exactly how mild mannered these Alphas truly are.
Midway through my circuit, something happens that causes me to question my decision. A Valla steps through the door. Grim. Imposing. His expression stark as he begins prowling the room. His body is moving through and around groups of people politely, but it's more than that. He's prowling. Hunting. For the same thing we're all hoping to find here – a mate. And that fact gives me pause.
I've never spent time with a Valla. I've seen one or two around, and have dutifully steered clear of them the way I was always taught to. Valla are volatile, instinctual. They can bring the strongest Alphas to their knees. Do I want to throw myself into heat with a Valla in the room? If he is as domineering and violent as everyone says Valla are, there is no doubt who will claim me once my heat starts. Do I want to spend my life with a Valla? Could I do it?
Ultimately, the answer is simple. I don't care. I could spend my life with a Valla. They are intense, but so are desperate Omegas. If everything goes to plan, he's going to be the prime choice for the Omega instincts that will be riding me once the liquid in that vial starts working in my system.
He's working his way from the front entrance. I could so easily drain this vile and put myself in his path. I really could. If he's already on the hunt for something else, he may not even notice me. And if he does, he does. Being claimed and bonded is the whole point of being here, whether it’s by an Alpha or a Valla.
Careless. This is so careless. I know it is; but I still take out the little glass bottle and drain it before I give myself time to change my mind. I came here tonight with a plan and all I'm doing is putting it into motion. I have about ten minutes if the research I did is accurate. That's just enough time to put myself in almost the center of the room.
The first pinch of my immediately impending heat pulls at my lower abdomen before the three minute mark and sweat beads on my back, making my shirt stick to my skin. I'm not putting out enough pheromones for anyone to notice, not yet, but it won't be long.
This is so reckless.
Every step I take towards the middle of the room makes my heart race with increasing doubt. What if I go into heat in the middle of this room and no one wants me? What if my scent doesn't appeal to any of them, even in the middle of a heat? What if the opposite happens? What if I appeal to every Alpha in the room? And the Valla? It would be a bloodbath. All that violence and pain would be my fault. Can I live with the weight of that amount of destruction?
I can feel my temperature rising, every degree accentuated with another twist or pinch deep inside me as I continue walking across the floor. This is it. Anticipation, anxiety, and fear are all warring inside me, but push past my tight chest and shallow breathing. There's no going back. There's nothing I can do to stop what happens next.
I step between the next set of tables and freeze. I am suddenly enveloped in a warm cloud of honeyed citrus. My nostrils flare, drawing in as much of that scent as I can. I have never had such a violent reaction to a scent. Not from any person or scent card. This scent fills me with such a violent yearning that I almost drop to my knees.
Where.
Where are they?
I whip my head from left to right. The scent is stronger coming from the right. In the direction of the bar. It's on the far right wall of the room, which might as well be miles away from where I am. The bar is lined with people. This scent could belong to any one of them. It could also belong to any of the people standing and sitting on that side of the room. I was just at the bar a few minutes ago. This scent wasn't there. I wouldn't have missed it.
I start moving again, step by step, concentrating so much on that scent that anyone who isn't attached to it melts away into the background. I pass tables filled with muted scents and the muddy shapes of people as my stomach clenches with increasing cramps. I'm getting closer. The closer I get to the source of the scent that has taken over my entire being, the more my body reacts to it; already growing hard and slick in preparation. Part of it is heat, but even that is more intense because of this scent.
Desperation claws at me as I keep moving without finding anything. The scent is getting stronger, but I still can't find the source. I gag with the effort to keep the whimper constricting my throat from escaping.
One more step. Two. Cramps and pinching are beginning to twist into real pain. I'll be crawling soon. I don't care. I'll crawl if it gets me to the source of this scent.
There.
She's there.
At the bar.
Talking to another male.
The rage that fills me is made sharper by the need coursing through me as I watch his hand reach forward to touch her hand, and I snap. I stalk toward her, fury quickening my steps. I'm going to break every finger that touched her. And then I'm going to tear his arm off.
I'm standing in front of them before any of us realize it, snarling. Her eyes, deep brown eyes, widen and her mouth parts as my own hand snaps out to grasp the back of her neck. I jerk her toward me and bury my nose just behind her ear. My eyes roll back for a moment as I take in her bright lemon scent.
“Mine.”