47. Clara
Clara
Wind whips around Winnie’s little cottage deep in the woods just outside of town. Leaves in orange, yellow, and red swirl and tumble past the window. Dusk is falling, stretching the shadows outside and making the cozy lighting inside even warmer.
It’s finally cool enough to justify a fire in the hearth. The logs crackle and snap, sending sparks and dancing shadows up the walls.
Tonight’s meeting of The Omega Book Club is pajama-themed, and we’ve gone all in—bundled in our softest flannel and fuzzy socks, tucked beneath chunky knit blankets.
A pumpkin candle flickers on the coffee table.
Each of us holds a steaming mug of spiked apple cider, the rim dusted with sugar and cloves, warm enough to chase away the chill seeping through the windowpanes.
We’ve drifted far from the topic of the book.
“What do you mean your house is haunted?” Sunny asks, leveling me with her most practical look. She’s the skeptic of the group. Rose is a close second, and right now she’s staring at me like I’ve grown a pumpkin for a head.
“I mean the spirit of an alpha, who died over a hundred years ago, is… well, not living exactly, but existing in my house.”
They all blink at me and I’ve lost them.
“That makes so much sense,” Cali says, surprising everyone.
“It does? How?” Rose asks, incredulous.
“ I saw someone in the second-floor window on the night of the barbecue. I thought it was Victor. But when I pointed him out to Bram, the alpha was gone, and Bram said Victor wasn’t home.”
“Victor wasn’t in the house the night of the barbeque,” I recall quietly.
Cali nods. “Exactly.”
I dig into my backpack until I find the newspaper clipping I copied from the library. The one I carry everywhere. “Is this who you saw?” I ask, the desperation in my voice embarrassingly obvious.
She takes it, studies it, and her eyes widen. “Yes.”
“Okay, so there’s a ghost in your house,” Sunny says. “What now? Get a priest? Have an exorcism?”
“No!” The word bursts out too fast, too sharp.
They all raise their eyebrows.
I try again in a calmer tone. “No. I don’t want to exorcise him. He’s—” I hesitate, scanning my friends’ faces. They’ve never let me down, but if they laugh, it’ll still sting. I consider keeping this to myself… but I need someone outside of the house to talk to.
“I’m scent-sensitive to him. To Finian. The ghost.”
It sounds even wilder out loud. A beat of silence follows as they process.
“Do the Ember Pack know?” Winnie asks first.
“ That’s your first question?” Rose asks.
“Yes. Why? What’s yours?” Winnie shoots back, crossing her arms.
“So many things. First, how do ghosts even have a scent?” Rose counters.
“That’s your first question?” Sunny scoffs. “Not, how does this work in the bedroom?”
I glance between them, trying to figure out if they’re teasing me.
Cali pats my arm. “This actually isn’t as uncommon as you think.”
A jolt goes through me. Rob said almost the exact same thing.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“ There are books on phantom pairings, even in our library,” Cali says.
Rose nods. “I was giving you shit earlier, but there are tons of stories like this online.”
“What kind of stories?” I lean in, hanging on her words.
“Alphas or omegas without bonds waiting for their match… even after death,” Cali explains. “There are even a few scientific papers, but it’s still considered fringe.”
“But Finian had a pack. Why didn’t they all stay?” That's something that's been nagging me. I explain about the sunken ferry.
Cali and Rose shrug.
“This isn’t hard science, but there’s enough corroboration to make it plausible,” Rose says, and I feel something inside me loosen.
“Maybe he wanted you more. Or maybe because he died on land,” Winnie suggests. “We can’t know.”
“Well, the guys know about Finian, and we’ve basically agreed to go with it. I can’t imagine leaving one of my mates out. Even if he’s not technically alive.”
We giggle, though it’s nervous.
“As for bedroom details… we’re still figuring that out.” Images of swirling shadows over bare skin make my cheeks heat.
“Updates when they happen, please,” Rose says, thumbs flying over her phone.“What about that thing with the deputy at your book signing? Anything happening there?” Winnie asks, concern etched on her face.
The whole situation with Henry makes me feel more exhausted than anything else.
“I don’t know. He’s been acting strangely since I started seeing the Ember Pack. We were never together. I don’t understand why he doesn’t just move on and find someone else,” I say, my voice edged with frustration.
“ That might be why he can’t let it go,” Cali says. “Some guys become more obsessive over the things they can’t have, not less.”
I bite my lip. The whole thing makes me feel like pressure is slowly closing in around me.
“Maybe we should get back to the book.” I suddenly feel drained and just want the escape.
“You mean the one written by the alpha you live and sleep with?” Sunny teases.
“I still can’t believe you’re scent-sensitive with Bram Razor,” Rose says, almost whining. She’s been a fan of his books forever, and nearly fainted when she met him at the barbecue.
“Which is why I’ll say I loved it and not that it made me scared of the dark for the first time since I was five,” I reply in a falsely bright tone.
We all giggle, and the rest of Book Club passes in chatter. I’ve had far too much cider by the time we step into the crisp autumn night.
It’s dark. Stars scatter across the sky. Leaves rustle in the trees, sounding like rain. Bram, Dagan, and Jack are by their car talking with the Evergreen Pack and the Night Pack. Any lingering tension from the barbecue seems gone. They’re laughing easily.
When they see us, they focus.
Sunny bounds across the drive and flings herself between Jess and Hunt—her two alphas, who are also in love with each other. They catch her easily, sandwiching her in kisses and scent marks, while her older alphas chuckle and open the car doors.
Cali doesn’t run, but at nearly five months pregnant she moves quickly to her pack. Each greets her with a kiss, a scent mark, or a warm hand over her belly.
Wat ching their complete packs sends a pang through me.
I’ve always dreamed of my fated mates, and I’m glad I didn’t give up.
Because what Bram, Jack, Dagan, Finian, and I are building feels deeper than anything I’ve known.
But life isn’t a fairytale, and packs are complicated.
A ghost alpha was never in my tarot readings. And Victor?
I still don’t know what to do about him.