Chapter 5
Asher - present day
I don't bother hiding my distaste as Enzo and I lean against the ballroom wall, passively watching the dancing and laughing omegas and alpha packs on the prowl. The glitz and glittering glamor, from the crystal chandeliers descending from the ceiling to the gold filigree painted columns and the four-string quartet playing on stage, makes me feel like I'm in a fucking eighteenth-century fish bowl.
My bowtie, long since untied, adds to my air of disinterest, and Sully keeps shooting me concerned looks from across the room. He knows there's no fucking way I'm entertaining the thought of an omega; I can't even breathe when I think of touching another.
For a while, my pack brothers were just as determined to find out what happened to her, the one on the bridge. Though they won't admit it, they began to wonder if I was making things up. That maybe my reaction was my alpha in fear of an omega in danger, not that she was a scent-match. Or maybe I just happened to find one who smelled good, someone more scent-sympathetic, and I was exaggerating her earthy lavender, sage, and rose beauty.
For a while, for me, they tried.
Now, for them, I'm trying. Not that I'd entertain an omega for myself, but if they found one they wanted, I wouldn't stand in their way. I don't know what that means for us as a pack, but I promised them I'd try. I can sit back while they bond another, even if the idea makes me sick.
My brothers glance nervously at me all night, worried I'll do something stupid.
Not like I can top that time I basically told the Bradfords to go fuck themselves in public after just signing a million-dollar contract with them, simply because they brought their daughter to lunch. It's not like they knew what a trigger that would be.
Leave it to the Rag to post pictures of me losing my shit and spin it, weaving a tale of my intense infatuation with the girl, so moved by her omega scent I nearly knocked over a server to get to her. The opposite happened, but it's not like the readers care. Sensational sells.
I haven't been as unhinged over the last couple of months, able to get back to work and find some semblance of normalcy. However, these omega events bring out my bitterness and self-loathing, and I'm not sure that will ever change. Enzo used to be the one that dreaded these events the most. I'm not sure what we'll do as a pack if half of us can barely stand the sight of all these unbonded women.
Enzo stands a little taller, but I laugh when it's puff pastries garnering his attention, not a woman. He picks the pastry off the tray without taking his eyes off the server, tilting his head slightly like he's trying to peer inside their soul. I distract him, so the server, who's obviously uncomfortable, can scurry off. "Any good?"
"Oddly zesty," he chews.
His answer brings a curl to my lips. "Feel up to sparring when we get home?" Enzo's a creature of habit, and he prefers to work out in the morning. He rarely deviates from his routine, but he senses my need.
"I could be persuaded." He looks down at his watch. While we're all impeccably dressed—well, everyone but me—Enzo takes perfection to a new level. His three piece suit is sharp, with crisp, fitted lines and a perfectly folded pocket square, nearly starch-stiff at the shoulders, and when he lifts his sleeve to check the time on his twenty-thousand dollar watch, he looks like he'd rather be in a boardroom than finding a woman to court.
Enzo isn’t sure if he’s straight, fluid or asexual, but he's assured us over the years that we should continue to court omegas as we see fit and he'll figure it out as we go. He's meant to be in our pack; he's with us for a reason, and we love him, even if he's made it more difficult to find an omega. Not that it matters anymore—not to me, anyway.
"How long do you suppose we'll need to put up with this farce?" He asks, tugging his sleeve back into place before stopping another server passing by with more snacks. He's an odd guy, Enzo.
I look around the room, seeing both Sullivan and Theodore smiling genially, making the woman in front of them laugh as she clutches her chest coyly.
I roll my eyes and look back at Enzo, but he's looking down at his phone, having given up the pretense of giving a shit. His screen shows the familiar stock market app he loves to trade millions in like he's in a low-stakes poker game.
I catch Sully looking over at us, and for a moment, the disappointment in his eyes, however brief, makes me feel shame for abandoning him. So, I push off the wall, plaster on a fake smile, and join my brothers.
"Asher," Sully welcomes, relieved I'm joining them.
"Oh, Asher, it's so nice to meet you," the omega greets, dipping her chin submissively. Her chaperone hovers a few feet away. Not all omegas have them, but those from wealthy families, who treat courting like a horse race intent on garnering the highest return for their investment, always hire a chaperone to protect the omega's virtue and move things along if there's a lag in conversation.
Supposedly, there was an incident many years ago involving one of the unbonded omegas and an alpha pack at one of these things, but as far as I can tell, the chaperones are just another excuse to elevate an omega's virginal qualities.
"Meet Bridgette Wilkes, graduated this past April. What was it you said you specialized in?" Theo leans close, seemingly interested in her answer, though I know better. Enzo might be a savant with numbers and money, but Theo's a master at feigning interest.
The girl smells like peaches, and I'm surprised to find it's actually pleasant. It's not lavender and rose, though, so it holds no interest for me.
"Entertaining, actually. My family owns a national hotel chain, so it's already in my blood. I just graduated from the OFA; I'm twenty-one and received top marks in all my classes. But I adore entertaining. All the girls on my floor would flock to my room, and we'd do these super fun theme parties after curfew." She reads off her accomplishments like checkmarks on a clipboard, making her after-hours parties sound scandalous. I stifle a yawn.
"Oh, I can't wait to hear what kinds of themes a group of lovely, unchaperoned omegas came up with," Theo rubs his hands together salaciously. I can't believe anyone would buy that, but Bridgette giggles and taps her fingers against his chest.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" She lowers her head again, glancing coquettishly at him through her lashes. Bridgette and Theo continue their flirtatious banter, so I'm relieved when I catch the subtle, telltale signs that Sully's bored.
An elbow nudges me, and I look up to find Theo giving me an amused grin. Apparently I’ve missed entire chunks of conversation. “Bridgette was just saying how impressive you are.”
“What?”
“You’re impressive, Alpha,” she says deferentially. “I’ve always thought so. I’ve been reading about your pack for years, I couldn’t wait to graduate so I could come to the gala and meet you three. And last year, you were so heroic trying to save that poor omega. I read all about it. I hope if I ever fall, you’ll be there to catch me.”
She’s too close. Her lips pout, eyes blinking with thick fake lashes like she’s waving little fans. It’s so fucking fake I can’t stand it. Her peach scent coats my tongue, my throat with a sweetness I can’t escape. My neck itches with a need to get the fuck away from her. It’s not right, it’s not lavender and sage and rose.
Theo clears his throat, “Bridgette, honey, would you like to dance with me?”
"I would love to dance." She places both hands on her chest and dips, almost like she's giving Theo a bow, drawing the eye to her cleavage.
He smiles with his teeth, widening his eyes at me not to snap at the girl. Before he can drag her away, she steps between me and Sully and lowers her voice, “I know I would make the perfect addition to your pack. I can see how you respond to my scent, we’re sympathetic, compatible on even the basest levels. I’ve been on heat suppressants since my designation ceremony and have remained untouched.”
With that, Theo takes her hand, quickly pulling her away as she sways her hips dramatically. Once she’s gone I feel like I can breathe again. Looking over at Sully, he seems just as perplexed.
“Did she just tell us she’s a virgin?”
“She’s worse than the mother’s,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry about that, brother. What she said about saving the omega—“
“It’s fine. Let’s just drop it.”
He nods his head. “For the record, I am not scent-sympathetic with that girl. She smells nice but that’s it. And I didn’t miss the way she said, ‘you three.’”
“Yeah, I caught that too.”
"Save some for us, huh, assholes?" Jackson Olcene, that smarmy motherfucker, saunters over in the wake of Bridgette and Theo. Whenever I see him, I have the inexplicable urge to punch him in the face. Something about him is just… off. Wrong, in every sense of the word.
Sully cuts off my train of thought, "Jackson. What can we do for you?"
Jackson bares his teeth, the very definition of an unhinged alpha. If the last year was a struggle to keep my alpha under control, Jackson looks like he's had years of practice. His eyes are always heavy with bags, a darkness in them, like he carries a weight he can't shake.
"You can all fuck on out of here, Sullivan. Since you never seem interested in finding an omega, I'd like to formally ask your pack to go stand with your creepy-ass brother at the wall and give the rest of us first taste of this year's graduates."
He says it with a straight face, so I'm saved once more by Sully's ability to deal with idiots. Sullivan Constantine, ever the diplomat.
"Don't be crass, Jackson. The four of you," he gestures to Jackson's three other packmates, who look nearly as gray-pallored and deranged as their brother, "have the same rights as the rest of us. You pay fees, you sponsor events. No one's keeping you from finding your match; we've got nothing to do with it."
Sully and I share a look, wondering, not for the first time, why they never seem to leave with a woman. Even our pack has courted omegas, however unsuccessfully, in the past.
Jackson lifts one shoulder, smirking. "Whatever. No point in even talking to the girls these days, it's the parents you have to make a deal with. Good thing they've got those heat clinics so I can still stuff my knot in some begging pussy whenever I want while I wait for these prissy bitches to come around."
And here I was wondering why he never had a date.
Sully's jaw tightens, standing a little taller. He's a big guy, Sully, but he's friendly so his height never seems imposing. Unless he uses it, transforming him from friendly giant to heavy-weight boxer in seconds. He growls, "How the fuck are you on an approved list at any heat clinic?"
Jackson winks, sipping down his champagne glass, nearly tossing it without looking at the server walking by. "When you have money and know the right people, anything's possible. Jealous?"
I don't know how heat clinics work, I've never been to one. It's supposed to be a vigorous vetting process to let an alpha sign up for heat relief, or so I thought. Jackson's brothers laugh as they wander off, leaving us with that disturbing revelation.
The whole point of coming over here was to prove to Sully I'd try to engage. Well, I have. When they disperse, Sully comments on tracking down Madam Fletcher regarding the Olcenes behavior, and I rejoin Enzo, my 'creepy-ass brother,' who I'd rather stand beside than anyone else at this bullshit fucking gala.