Judge
It had been three days since I’d spoken to Uriel.
I’d sobbed the whole drive home that night, doing a walk of shame past my sisters when the sun came up.
He hadn’t written, and I hadn’t reached out.
I’d made up my mind: Uriel was a good man, but I couldn’t make him happy. He deserved an Omega who wasn’t broken.
Amos turned out to be a beast. There was no Prince hiding behind the cruel acts Amos performed on me.
I didn’t miss Amos; I missed having someone to do life with, even if it was a cage.
My self-respect was non-existent. I didn’t know how to love myself and I knew that’s what it had been.
Sex with Uriel had been sweet. It was everything I craved before.
It was everything I needed to heal. In the two times I’d met up with him, he’d given me pieces of myself back. I didn’t know what to do with them.
I spent the last few days spoiling Fale. I wanted to give her a piece of the world Amos had kept from both of us. When it was finally time to take her to the airport, the air between us was heavy.
“Did my brother write you?” Fale asked as I parked at the terminal. My hands tightened on the wheel.
“No. Was he supposed to?”
“Good. I told him to fuck off and stop bothering you,” she said firmly. “I wanted him to know he can’t order you around anymore.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Thank you, Fale.”
“He’s my brother, Ra. I know how he is. Don’t let him back in.”
I reached over and hugged her, crumbling as we said goodbye. I slipped an envelope of cash into her pocket—an emergency fund she’d never get from her Mother. “Keep your chin up, sis. Don’t let them get to you.”
The last shred of my past disappeared through the doors. I was alone. My phone went off as I fell into bed, my eyes still puffy from the airport. Paul.
“Bitch, what are you doing?” he barked into the phone.
“I just got home. I’m bed rotting,” I groaned.
“Liar. The party is tonight. Pajamas. I’m five minutes away, be ready.”
My inner gremlin begged me to stay in the safety of my room, to shower and hide under the covers. But the phantom sat in the shadows, the silence of the house felt like a tomb again. I needed noise.
A Snarl popped up as I sat up. Eduard. I’d forgotten about him, but as I opened his Snarl to find a selfie of him in the gym, I wasn’t pleased. It was a picture of him flexing.
Eduard: Like what you see?
I sighed. He was a tool. A smile spread across my face because I knew exactly what kind of guy he was. Before Amos, I wouldn’t have given him the time of day, but the shell left behind was desperate. I cringed as I typed out my reply.
Me: Hot.
Eduard: I am.
Me: lol
Eduard: When are we meeting up?
Me: I’m busy tonight.
Eduard: This weekend?
Me: I’m not sure.
Eduard: Find an Alpha you want to keep?
Me: Never.
Eduard: Lmk when you’re free. I want to see what you can do with your tongue.
Why did I think this was fun? I was officially ashamed of myself. I dropped my phone, hand dragging down my face. I needed to widen my circle and talk to more men.
Me: I’ll let you know.
Eduard: Sounds good.
A horn honked from outside and I groaned. I got a text from Paul telling me to get my sweet ass outside. I threw on an oversized shirt and an unbuttoned black and white plaid shirt. Then touched up my makeup and ran downstairs. I flipped off one of my sisters judging me as I flew past.
“Bitch!” Paul yelled as I climbed into his truck. I buckled as quickly as possible before he peeled out of the driveway.
“I’d like to make it to the party, Polo,” I muttered as I clutched the door handle.
“I’m going to ignore that. We need to talk about what you’re wearing. Did you even look in the mirror?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said as I looked down at my outfit.
“Pajamas, as in Victoria’s Secret. Think silk, robes, lingerie,” he said as he motioned to my shirt. “Not silk.”
“You’re not wearing silk,” I said, dread filling me as I stared at his jeans and shirt.
“I’m a man,” he deadpanned.
“I forget sometimes,” I teased. He stuck his tongue out at me and I giggled. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me!” He burst into laughter, his voice booming in the enclosed space.
“You look like you’re going to a third grade sleepover.” Tears were spilling out of his eyes as he struggled to keep an eye on the road. I slapped his arm before crossing mine in front of my chest.
Ugh.
“This is why I don’t go anywhere,” I whined.
“You look fine. Just doesn’t match the theme.”
“I’m aware,” I groaned, slumping in my seat.
“Don’t worry. Alyssa isn’t dressed up either,” he added.
“I didn’t,” a voice piped up from the back seat.
I screamed, jumping out of my skin as I twisted around. Alyssa, Paul’s cousin, was curled up in the shadows of the back bench wearing oversized jeans, a baggy sweatshirt, and a beanie pulled low over her eyes.
“Holy shit! You scared the life out of me,” I gasped, clutching my chest. She offered a tiny, distracted wave before looking back down at her phone.
“Her brother is hosting,” Paul explained, shrugging as he entered a pin. The massive gates swung open, allowing us into the gated community. “Highly doubt he wants to see his little sister dressed in silk and lace.”
“I’m too old for this shit,” I groaned. “This is what I get for trying to have a life.”
“Relax. The Alphas will still be lining up to tap that,” Paul teased, scanning the line of luxury cars for a parking spot.
“That is not what I want tonight,” I said.
“Oh? Tonight, huh? Specific,” he countered with a knowing smirk.
“I just want to drink and have fun, Paul. No strings, no drama, and definitely no Alphas with hero complexes.” I tried to sound confident, but my heart was already thumping a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
“Period. That’s the plan,” he said as he parked.
The house ahead of us was vibrating with bass, the windows glowing with a deep, violet light. I smoothed my plaid flannel one last time, took a deep breath of the cool night air, and stepped out of the truck.
I was ready to grab a plastic cup and be invisible.
We stepped into the house, it vibrated with a bass that made my teeth ache.
The crowd was a sea of silk, lace, and exposed flesh/skin.
I clutched my flannel closer, feeling every bit like the “third-grader” Paul had mocked.
One look at the women in their lace teddies and silk robes made me want to bolt back to the truck.
“On a serious note,” Paul muttered, leaning into my space. “Don’t drink what anyone offers you. Jello shots or drinks you pour yourself. Period.”
“I’m not senile, Polo,” I laughed, though the sheer volume of people was starting to make my throat tight.
“Just making sure. Aunty will kill me if I bring you back wasted—or worse.”
We pushed through the doors into a wall of violet light and heat. It had been years since I’d been to a party like this. Women gyrated against one another while Alphas watched from the shadows like predators at a watering hole.
“I’m going upstairs to check in with Hunter,” Alyssa shouted over the music, waving a hand before disappearing into the crowd.
Paul led me toward the kitchen, the crowd parting for him with a respect I wasn’t used to seeing. The kitchen was a sleek, modern setup where a guy with long, flowing curls wearing a white silk robe was reigning over a counter covered in colorful cups.
“Doll! You made it!” Hunter gushed, leaning over to air-kiss my cheeks. He looked like a diva, glowing under the lights. “Have a drink.”
He pointed to a tray of jello shots. Paul inspected the tray, then grabbed a red one and handed it to me. I took it, threw it back, expecting it to taste like jet fuel, but it was sweet and dangerous. Watermelon.
“Knots,” I groaned, reaching for a purple one.
“Careful,” Paul warned, though he was already downing his second. “Those hit fast.”
“I thought we were here to have fun?” I countered, feeling a spark of rebellion. I downed the grape shot, the sugar and alcohol beginning to blur the sharp edges of my anxiety.
A lithe brunette in a yellow silk slip skipped around the counter, her eyes bright and definitely buzzed. She looped her arm through mine, her touch making me stiffen instinctively.
“Wanna dance?” she asked, already swaying to the beat.
I looked at Paul. He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Go for it. Go dance before the jello shots make you forget how to stand.”
“Fine,” I hummed. The music finally shifted, an invitation rather than a threat. I snatched one last shot, tipped my head back, and let the sweetness slide down my throat.
I blew Paul a kiss and let the girl pull me toward the living room, leaving the safety of the kitchen behind. I was ready to lose myself in the noise.
After two dances, the jello shots were victorious. I had a nice little buzz humming through my veins, softening the jagged edges of my anxiety. The brunette had disappeared into the sea of bodies, leaving me swaying alone in the middle of the floor.
I retreated to a corner, pressing my spine against the cool surface of a marble pillar to people-watch, when a low whistle cut through the bass.
“Now that is a statement,” a voice thrummed near my ear.
I spun around, teeth gritted to snap at whoever was mocking me, but the words died in my throat.
A man leaned against the wall with a dangerous, predatory stillness that didn’t match his joker-like grin.
The air vanished. His hair was a chaotic spill of midnight strands that parted down his forehead, splitting in the center before curling away from his face in jagged waves.
Thick, obsidian locks grazed his brows, framing the intensity of his gaze while the rest swept back toward his collar.
He was a chaotic smudge against the polished silk of the room. A crisp, white button-up strained against his chest, held in place by black suspenders that disappeared into the waistband of his slacks. A matching black tie hung loose at his collar, undone just enough to look like a noose.
He didn’t belong here, yet he stood there as if daring the room to say something.
“It’s a pajama party,” I snapped, my voice defensive. “I’m wearing pajamas.”
“You’re wearing a lumberjack’s dream,” he corrected, pushing off the pillar, closing the distance until he invaded my personal space. He didn’t loom; he leaned in, the heat rolling off him in waves.
If I were a normal Omega, I’d be drowning in his scent, deciphering the notes of who he was. But there was nothing but the slight movement of air. My nose remained a dead end—another piece snuffed out.
The stranger didn’t share my handicap.
He took a sharp, shallow breath as he neared me, and for a heartbeat, his pupils blew wide, swallowing the hazel color of his eyes. The smirk he’d been wearing didn’t just fade—it vanished. He stood as if struck by lightning, his jaw locking so tight I expected to hear his teeth crack.
Then, as quickly as the shock surfaced, it was gone.
He blinked, and the intense heat in his gaze shifted into something bright and mischievous. He looked at me like we shared an inside joke that I just hadn’t heard the punchline to yet.
“Fuck, Lumberjack,” he chuckled, the sound low and gravelly. He didn’t touch me, but stayed close. “You have a habit of making people forget their own names, or is that just a talent you saved for me?”
He saw me.
“I’m just standing here,” I whispered. My heart still raced from the split-second of raw intensity I’d seen in him.
“I’m Kade,” he replied, flashing a grin that promised unapologetic trouble. He reached out, his thumb grazing the collar of my flannel. “Want to go hide upstairs and judge people with me?”
For the first time in three days, I breathed. He didn’t give quiet, steady, safety. He offered something reckless.
“Vera,” I said loudly, over the music.
“Vera,” he tested the name, his tongue tracing his lips as if savoring it.
“Let’s go, but first: we stock up on drinks. I’m not hiding out empty-handed,” I teased.
He caught my hand, his palm like sandpaper against mine, and carved a path through the crowd. His Alpha energy didn’t hum. It sparked. A live wire looking for a reason to combust.