Chapter 6
Ophelia
"Ophelia! Get your ass over here!"
I'm sweating, my legs shake with exhaustion, and I cannot believe my luck—I've made it through the first hour of the gala without running into anyone, both literally and figuratively, and I'm too busy working the event to worry about being at the OFA.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," I hurry towards Sharon, the team leader and my boss for the evening. She hovers over the OFA staff facility and us, the extra hired help from the catering company, directing us all like a drill sergeant.
Lining up behind other employees, we each take a full tray of champagne or canapes, before turning toward the massive swinging doors leading into the great ballroom. I keep trying to snag the canape trays since they're easier to carry, but miss them every time. I do not have a good track record carrying trays of drinks, but no spills so far; this gig might be worth the money after all.
Thank God for air sanitizers, because no party attendee is wearing scent-blockers tonight. Omega's sweet, tantalizing perfume and alpha's masculine pheromones assault the senses. I don't know how anyone works these gigs regularly.
Maybe it's because I'm an omega in hiding, but my naturally delicate senses are going haywire. As far as I can tell, most of the catering and OFA staff are betas, whose sense of smell isn't quite as sensitive as ours. Lucky bastards.
I work the room, pausing each time someone's roaming hands reach out toward my tray, letting them grab a glass as I go. They don't look at me as I pass; I'm just another faceless worker beneath their station. That's the point of catering; we're supposed to be in the background. Still, I couldn't be so dismissive of another person, no matter their role.
I make the rounds, dropping off empty glasses, returning with full ones, clutching the tray with both hands so I don't accidentally drop anything. I'm almost near the second hour free-and-clear when an omega with a squeaky voice sways into me. I screech, my tray colliding with her ample chest; we crash into each other, sticky-sweet alcohol drenching us both.
"You fucking twat!" She screams at me, ineffectually brushing the alcohol off her bare arms. Remembering she's on display, she transforms, correcting herself. "Oh my goodness, I cannot believe that just happened. I can't—" she starts sniffing, fake tears already filling her eyes, still wiping at her arms and chest.
"It's just some spilled champagne, darling, nothing we can't lap up," a flirtatious lilt pulls me out of the drama, but then—oh, then things get so much worse.
"Theo," I gasp, shaking my head and stepping back.
Brows furrowing, he tilts his head. "Do we know each other, sweetheart?" Perfectly tousled bed hair shouldn't be appropriate at an event like this, but somehow, he pulls it off. Darker blond strands falling into his face highlight his striking crystal blue eyes, glittering with interest as he takes me in.
Ugh, his gratuitous use of endearments is tacky. Or maybe I'm just annoyed that he used them on both of us, me and the screeching omega in the garish blue dress, who's crying dramatically.
He leans a little closer, eyes caressing every inch of me, narrowing slightly as he tries to figure something out. Fear that he'll scent me ices my skin. I'm tempted to sniff my pits but I know I'm wearing scent-blocker, I took a pill just before I left the house. Unfortunately, the closer he leans, the more I can smell him.
Goddamn, my knees go weak. He smells like lemon and honey. It's not too citrusy, more like a perfectly baked dessert. It's sweet and warm and welcoming, gentle somehow. I inhale deeply, breathing him in, my eyes closing as I let the impossibility wash over me: Theodore Constantine, my scent-match.
Fortunately, we're both abruptly yanked out of the spell.
"Umm, excuse me!" The girl shrieks, waving her hands about, catching the attention of someone behind me. "Miss Fletcher! Excuse me!"
Oh shit.
I drop to my knees to pick up the mess. Maybe I can sneak away. Crawl away if I have to.
Sensing my distress—damn, I wish he weren't already tuning into me—Theo jumps into action, helping me arrange the mostly intact, though now empty, glasses on my tray, though some are broken into pieces. I try to push him away, but each finger that brushes against mine sends a zap of electricity, sending goosebumps up my arm.
My hands are shaking, and Theo can't stop staring. His eyes on me are a physical weight. I can't look up. I can't take in the real him, the face I've been staring at in pictures and magazines. His honeyed dark blond hair, perfectly styled and effortlessly sexy, his penetrating bright crystal blue eyes, and devil-may-care expression make you feel like the only person in the room, even through a camera lens.
He's even hotter in person.
"Are you sure we don't know each other?" His eyes narrow, but Madam fucking Fletcher joins our group in a rush—wow, can my night get any worse—with Sullivan Constantine in tow.
"What's going on here?" Sully demands. His voice is gruff, full of authority and control. Thank God he's too far away, and with all the other swirling scents in the room, I can't smell him. I make an effort to lean away so I can focus, but my knees are weak with sudden desperation.
"Oh no, what's happened here?" Fletcher asks. The old bat hasn't changed a bit. Still a hard ass, with a severe gray bun and stiff posture. She's dressed like a school teacher, not for a gala.
"This—this—this clumsy dimwit has ruined my dress! Look at me!"
"Oh, well, I'm sure it was an accide—" Fletcher's words cut off when she looks directly at me. "Oh—Oh my goodness. Ophelia?" She gasps.
I grit my teeth, clutching the tray in front of me like armor. "It was an accident. She bumped into me."
"It was your fat ass that bumped into me," the girl snaps.
Fletcher attempts to take control of the situation. "Bridgette, that's enough. We've talked about this, that's no way to talk to another person. Dignity and grace, remember?"
The mask slips back over Brigette's face, the change unsettling. "You're right. I'm so sorry, Miss Fletcher. Sully, Theo, please forgive me. That was most unbecoming. You see, as an omega, my senses are quite delicate, and this beta here smells like melted plastic, and it was just so disgusting it must have distracted me. However, Miss Fletcher, I must say, if she smells this bad, is it really appropriate for her to work at an event like this? I can't be the only omega who's complained. And who's to pay for my dress?"
If this crazy bitch thinks I'm paying for her dress, she's out of her damn mind. Miss Fletcher likely senses my budding rage. Hell, we can all smell the bitter tinge in the air, but before I can lash out while Bridgette continues to cry, I take a few steps back.
"I'm very sorry for the mess," I offer, then, before things can get any worse, turn and run toward the back.
"Wait!" Theo calls out, right on my heels. I quickly abandon the tray of empty glasses on the nearest table.
My flat shoes are a blessing, and I nearly plow another poor girl over as I duck and weave through the crowd. I can't hear them, smell them, or see them, but somehow, I know they're only a few steps behind me. They probably don't know why they're chasing after me, their alpha instincts driving them without coherent thought.
I risk a glance and immediately spot both Theo and Sully, relieved their massive frames can't dodge as quickly as mine. They're trying to be polite to guests and not plow them over. Someone tugs at their arms to talk to them, slowing them down. I snicker, thinking I've got away.
It's two hours into the night; if I sneak out now, Sharon wouldn't notice. I might miss out on tip tallying, but whatever, I need to get out of here.
I sense them behind me, but I've gained some traction. If I move quickly, they won't catch me. Maybe, later on, they'll wonder why some nameless beta employee caught their attention, chalking it up to intrigue. They'll be confused, at best. Dismiss it as a fluke.
Slipping through the swinging doors, down the staff halls, and into the kitchens, I head straight for the locker room. Adrenaline has my fingers shaking so much that I clumsily drop everything I pick up—my purse, my catering ID badge. I debate changing since they didn't scent me, they might be searching for me in my uniform, but it would be a waste of precious time.
I grab my change of clothes stuffed into a tote bag, swing my purse over my body, and peek into the kitchen. I see Sharon talking to Fletcher, and my heart drops.
This is it. It's the moment I get fired. Whatever, I need to get out of here.
I sneak along the perimeter of the kitchen, heading for the employee exit. Unfortunately, I caught a ride here with another employee who drove in from South Loop. I could wait for them to finish and hide amongst all the busyness of people coming and going, or I could walk down the mountain and catch the bus once I hit the north end of downtown.
Mind made up, I creep along the outside of the massive building. The campus is split up into several buildings, with security and various staff everywhere so it's easy to get lost in the crowd.
My adrenaline is crashing, and in the wake of my beating heart is the knowledge that I found them, again. I'm tearing my heart out of my chest with each step I take, ignoring the possibility of a lifetime with them because I'm terrified of what will happen if I let down my guard.
Each step tugs at my stomach like my anchor is back behind me.
Turn around and go back to them, my omega screams inside me.
No, don't turn around. Keep going. The decision battles inside me, and I'm crashing, suddenly cold and shivering. I haven't cried, but I'm sure tonight will be even worse than that night a year ago when I did the impossible and kept myself away. It's like going through detox.
I need to get out of here. I'm disoriented and turned around on campus, so I look up to figure out where I am. Big mistake.
He didn't just give up inside and assume his random attraction was a fluke.
"Hey! Wait!" Theo shouts before jogging toward me. I freeze, my stomach now warring between illness and comforting heat. My alpha is running toward me, but I know I'll have to pull away all over again.
Dammit. Why can't he just leave me be? He's a player; he sees a shiny, pretty thing he finds interesting and decides he wants it. That's all this is. I'm an anomaly because I ran from him. He certainly can't smell me; he doesn't know who I am to him.
But my stomach churns more intensely when I see Sully behind him, stalking, tall and formidable, more reserved yet just as determined. I look around and notice I'm almost near the valet parking lot.
I can't run. I'm shivering, and my omega, that goddamn hussy, won't let me move from this spot as I watch Theo and Sully approach.
"Hey, why'd you run? I wanted to make sure you're okay. Bridgette was…" Theo runs his hand through his hair. The reminder of Bridgette is helpful.
"Yes, I'm fine. You should go back to your date."
"She's not…" He shakes his head, giving me the same intense eye treatment as inside. Sully comes right up behind him.
"Ophelia?" Sully asks, surprising me.
"How did you know…?"
"Fletcher. She said you were…" Sully looks around, nodding at two figures as they slowly approach from the shadows of the building. Oh no. No, no, no.
I take a step away slowly. Maybe I can still get out of this. Sully continues, "Fletcher seemed worried about you. She tried to find you, but you ran. Are you sure you're alright?"
I swallow and nod, but my stomach is going haywire. My skin feels clammy like my body knows it's about to go through withdrawal all over again.
I take another step back, but Theo narrows his eyes. He shifts his posture, ready to pounce if I run.
"Let's get the fuck out of here. What the hell are you two doing, cornering a caterer? Ma'am, are you alright?" Asher calls as he approaches, leaving their fourth member, Enzo, who doesn't look up from his phone, to join us last.
Any hope I had that Asher wouldn't recognize me is dashed the instant his vexed expression lands on me. His mouth drops open, and damn if my insides didn't immediately calm and feel comforted by his reaction.
Asher nearly drops to his knees.
"Omega," he whispers in awe.
I press my lips together, my head vigorously shaking back and forth, but it's a lie. He knows it. I know it. And for one weak moment, one I've no control over, a tear falls from my eye, and I collapse onto the gravel.
"Ophelia!" Sully shouts, crowding me, while Asher repeats my name with wonder.
"Do you know her?" Asher asks his brother, stunned.
"She spilled a drink inside. Asher, why did you call her…"
I can't look up. I can't face them the moment they realize who I am.
They say packs develop a kind of sixth sense, that they inherently feel or experience what their brothers feel. And when they bond with their chosen omega, those senses grow even stronger.
Asher doesn't say anything; if he does, I can't hear it through the womp! womp! womp! of my blood pulsing in my ears. But I'm suddenly cradled in Asher's arms, and for the first time in a year, everything inside me, my heart, my stomach, my warring mind, all quiet. It's the calm in a storm. Cool water on a burn. Love inside the madness.
He smells like the woods. Like a campfire and trees and fresh spring water running down the mountain. He smells like home.
I don't know when I started crying, but Asher rocks me back and forth, right there on the gravel. Sully ushers people away from us as the valet comes and goes with cars.
Finally, I look up at the face of the man who holds me.
Asher, incredulous, stares down at me like I'm a mirage. Sully stands beside us, blocking my view of Theo and Enzo, eyes narrowed like he doesn't trust me. He can't smell me; he doesn't know what to do or think. Where Asher is woodsy, like fir and pine and a warm fire, Sully smells like cedar and sandalwood. Spicy with strong masculine undertones. He smells like power and sex. What would it be like to be taken by a man with that much control?
Fuck, my eyes close as a shiver of lust runs through me.
"Your name is Ophelia?" Sully confirms, his voice deceptively calm. He slowly lowers to a crouch so we're nearly eye level, though his torso is so much taller than mine, I still have to look up.
I hesitate.
We're scent-matched. I can almost hear Alma making a case for them, telling me to just give in. But memory Alma and dead Alma are two different people. Memory Alma was a dreamer, in love with the idea of an omega from South Loop getting swept off her feet by a high-society pack, like a real-life Cinderella. Dead Alma knew what a wealthy pack was capable of: dark at their core, vicious, dangerous liars.
I don't have anything against packs. Or alphas. But I have something against them.
I'm tempted to run, but it's useless at this point. They'll chase after me. They'll be able to track me down easily, knowing Fletcher.
Asher's strong woodsy scent envelopes me, his grip firm. When I attempt to stand, his hands dart out to help, his touch never leaving my body. One hand holds my arm, the other at my lower back.
I take in the four of them. The familiar swagger and charm I'm used to seeing in the newspapers—Theodore Constantine, the playboy, the heartthrob—is nowhere to be found. He's angry. His mouthwatering, enticing sweet lemon and honey scent is tinged with a bitterness, making my steps falter.
Straightening himself out, he turns and storms through the parking lot. Enzo watches quietly, curiously. Less is known about him, though supposedly he's a brilliant, reserved savant. There are rumors there's something dark and disturbing about the fourth member of the Constantine pack, but I find nothing discomforting about him.
Sully takes my other arm, and he and Asher guide me through the lot, never letting go. When we reach the waiting SUV, Theo's already shut himself in on the front passenger side. Enzo tilts his head, observing the whole thing like a documentary.
I stare at the open door, then up at Asher, then Sully. They're both so tall and broad-shouldered, towering above me.
"You're not letting me go, are you?" I ask dejectedly.
Enzo laughs, shocking his brothers. Asher looks at me like I've rejected him, kicked him in the stomach. The image of him hurting, the way his scent dims, makes me want to reach out and hug him, to tell him I'm sorry, and I take it back. I swallow the urge to apologize.
"No. We're not leaving you, an omega, and our scent-match, alone in the fucking parking lot," Sully growls. "Get in the car."
"Will you drive me home?" I tilt my head toward him, curious if this is the part where they kidnap me and force me to be theirs. He surprises me by nodding once.
I guess this is the end of the line. I look back to the waiting SUV. Sensing I've decided not to struggle, at least not yet, Enzo goes to the other side, climbing in the back seat. I climb in the middle, Asher next. Sully climbs into the driver's side, and we all silently wait.
Theo reaches over, turning off the radio, making the quiet even louder. Finally, Sully asks, "Where do you live, Ophelia?"
"Downtown," I lie. He nods and drives out of the lot to head back down the mountain. Despite the intensity in the air, my conflicting feelings, fear about what happens next, and the utter relief at finally being near them and their scents, has my little omega snuggling, cozy and tired.
I want to roll my eyes at her.
Enzo, to my left, has the most unique scent of eucalyptus and mint. It's crisp and sharp, just like that feeling I get when I jump in the river. It makes me feel awake, vibrant, and alive. He's staring at me like I'm a puzzle to figure out, and I can't help but steal glances at him, too.
Maybe there's a way out of this that doesn't involve me being nothing but a hole for them to knot. I have Red, I remind myself. He won't let me get stolen away.
"Ophelia," Asher whispers softly, and I can't help but shiver and preen when my scent-match says my name. The action doesn't go unnoticed, and suddenly, he's purring. I've never had an alpha purr for me. My eyes close, and I let the vibration calm my racing heart. Asher tenses at my reaction, and I try to hide it, but his fingertips caress my bare arm, allowing us both to bask. I hate that I love it.
His purring eventually subsides, but he and Enzo continue to stare unabashedly. The scents of these four alphas are overwhelming, and it was already an emotional night.
"Can you please roll down the window?" I manage to croak out to no one in particular.
Theo murmurs, "Gladly," rolling his down as if he, too, needs some air. He's angry, and maybe I'm dense, but I can't figure out why.
When traffic picks up, and we start hitting more populated parts of downtown, Sully clears his throat. "What's your address, Ophelia?"
I don't want to give him my address. They'll see where I live and judge me for it. My omega already feels shame creeping in that they might think less of me, which only angers me. Maybe I'll give them the address for Queenie's, and I could walk home. Actually, that would be worse.
Sensing my internal debate, Sully says, "You might as well tell me. You're not hiding from us for another fucking year, Omega. We will follow you to the ends of the earth," he threatens matter-of-factly.
I grit my teeth, biting out, "6626 C-Street."
"Where the hell is C-Street?" Asher asks, but Sully types it into their fancy GPS, and we continue. Their scents change the further downtown and south we get, and when we finally cross the sixth bridge and reach South Loop, they're all but posturing.
"No," Asher snaps. "You are not living here." His eyes dart around, noticing the apartment buildings are more run down and the gangs on the street corners, who are obviously dealing drugs. I'm annoyed at Constantines pampered life and refuse to feel shame for myself and my neighbors because we live here. It's not like we've got all the resources they do up in the Hills.
Eventually, Sully pulls over, across the street from my building. I unbuckle, but neither occupant beside me makes a point to move out of the way.
"Umm, can you let me out?" I turn toward Enzo since he seems the least hostile. He's also on the side facing my building.
Asher tries to argue again, attempting to inform me I am not allowed to live here. The more bullshit he spews, the more offended my omega gets. We worked really hard for what we have despite how hard it is to live as an unbonded omega in this world. Sensing my distress, Sully snaps at Asher to be quiet and tells Enzo to let me out.
Relieved to breathe fresh air—or air tinged with hot dog carts and car exhaust fumes—I climb out after Enzo, who holds his hand out to steady me. His grip is warm and causes electricity to run up my arm.
I look up, and he's unsmiling, watching me curiously, brow slightly furrowed. Before I can say or do something embarrassing, I say thank you and pull away.
"Asher, stay with Theo. We'll be right back."
"You better mean you'll be right back," I quip as we ignore Asher, arguing that he's coming with us. Being a pack leader must have its perks because Asher listens to Sully and stays behind. It doesn't go unnoticed that Theo doesn't say two words to me, won't look at or acknowledge me.
It hurts my omega's feelings, but we ignore the moody alpha and lead toward our glorious fourth-floor walk-up. Sully's jaw ticks, his posture becoming more rigid as we climb, stepping around kids' toys and mysterious stains along the halls and floors.
When we reach my apartment, I turn to them with my back to the door. "Well. Thank you for the ride. It was… nice to meet you."
Enzo laughs, again pulling a shocked look from his packmate, who swings his incredulous glare from Enzo back to me. "Very funny, Omega. Let us in."
"Why?" I cross my arms, bristling at his high-handedness. I hate this part of being an omega. He's bossy, and I both love and hate it. The urge to submit is strong.
"Because we are your mates, and we're not leaving until we see you safely inside."
My mouth drops open, but it's the first time Enzo smiles—well, sort of smiles. His lips tug a bit, but nevertheless, it's mesmerizing. It softens the otherwise hard lines of his cheeks and jawline, which come to a point at his chin, the slightest hint of a dimple at the center.
Two doors down, Sheila sticks her head out her apartment door, distracting me. "Who's out there?" She shouts. "You're makin' too much noise!"
I snap back, "Mind your business, Sheila!"
She starts hollering about the alphas and us making a racket in public domain. Someone taught her this phrase recently, and she applies it liberally in nearly every conversation, whether or not it makes sense. Her husband, Earl, is an alpha-leaning beta and a mean son-of-a-bitch, and I do not want him to come out here and try to throw his weight around, so I drop down, pull my key out from under my mat—which causes Sullivan to growl, again—and let us inside.
"You keep your apartment key under your fucking doormat? Are you trying to get broken into?"
"Don't tell me what to do," I huff, though he's totally right. Truthfully, I always lose my key, which is why I leave a spare.
Sully somehow both growls and sighs. Red does something similar, asking for patience from the gods to deal with me. After a deep, not-so-calming breath, he says, "Are you always this stubborn, or are we special?"
I give him a full-teeth smile. "Oh, you're very special, Alpha."
He grunts. I almost laugh at how mad he's getting.
"Look, see, there's no one here. I'm home, and it's perfectly safe. Now you know exactly where I live, so you can leave now."
Enzo ignores my dismissal. Instead, he lets himself into my apartment and inspects every little thing. He opens drawers, shuffles things around, and touches art. Miraculously, he skips the drawer packed full of pills.
My apartment isn't nice, and my things are second-hand, threadbare, and worn. But they're mine. Everything I have, I got for myself. I didn't rely on someone else to get it for me, and I'm proud of that.
So when Enzo peers at and examines all my things, and, unlike his brothers, keeps judgment off his face, only maintaining mild curiosity, it makes me relax, just a little. I drop onto my comfortable but lumpy plaid couch in a huff, and wait for Enzo to finish his inspection.
When he reaches my bedroom door, I yell, "Not a chance, Alpha!"
An omega's nest is a sacred space. He should know better. Then again, from what little I've learned about Enzo… maybe he doesn't.
He pauses, hand clutching the knob. Turning to give me a predatory smile, it's like Clark Kent transforming into Superman. His glasses don't detract from his aquiline beauty, and for some reason, my yelling at him makes him look like a sociopath playing at a tea party. I stutter but hold my ground, satisfied he listens and rejoins us in the living room.
I ignore Sully's "Huh" and watch Enzo like a hawk.
These guys are pushy alphas, but not nearly as pushy as I feared they would be. I've only known them for an hour, though.
Sully scratches his thick, square jaw, following Enzo's careful, controlled movements before returning to me.
"Omega—"
"Ophelia," I correct.
He smiles, but it's with his teeth and not at all warm. "I need to know you're not going to do something stupid tonight."
"Like what?"
"Take off or something equally as desperate. I don't know why you hid for a year, but I meant what I said earlier. We will find you."
"You didn't last time," I shrug, keeping the hurt out of my voice. It's not like I wanted them to find me, but they clearly knew Asher found his scent-match and they didn't exactly go to 'the ends of the earth' as he threatened, to track me down. There might be a million people living in Arrow Cove but did they even try?
Sully's giving me a predatory look, unruffled, which is good because if he could hear my mercurial inner monologue and how many times I've gone back and forth in my head in the last half hour, wanting to nest and let the four of them rut me into heaven, and wanting them to leave and never come back, he'd think I was insane.
"If I say I'll behave like a good little omega, will you go?"
"If you say you'll behave, and I believe you, then yes."
"What I do and don't do is none of your business."
"I'll leave you for the evening if you promise you won't take off."
"Where am I going to go?" I laugh, waving my hand around. "Does it look like I've got the resources to bail?"
Sully looks around, taking in my apartment once more. "You have resources now," is all he says.
I almost argue back, but my words disappear when Enzo sits on the couch beside me. Leaning in, closer and closer, I angle my head away, but it only exposes my neck further.
Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, so close his inhale causes goosebumps to erupt along my neck, a chill flushing across my skin. His sharp eucalyptus and mint scent wake my senses, and I feel it zap like a shot of electricity between my legs, my clit suddenly aching. I squeeze my legs together, unable to hide my desire. I'm not wearing any slick-wicks, and my perfume bursts into the air around us, causing both alphas to moan.
I may smell like scent-blocker, but I can't hide the perfume when slick floods out of me like that.
Enzo pulls away, his face a blank mask once more. My omega desperately wants to whimper he pulled away but I somehow hold my ground.
Sully's deep, throaty laugh pulls my attention away from Enzo.
"What the hell is so funny?" I try to snap, but the question sounds breathy and wanton.
"I just realized something." He begins to loosen his bowtie, reminding me how out of place these men in their fancy suits are in my C-Block apartment. I'm worried and simultaneously thrilled he might be about to strip out of his tux, but it turns out he was just giving himself some room to breathe because he walks toward my front door, Enzo joining him.
"And what's that?"
Sully pins me with a glare. "I just realized… you're perfect. You're fucking perfect for us," he states, like it's a fact. I don't know what he's talking about since I'm sitting on my shitty frayed couch, drenched with plastic scent, horny and wet from my not-mates.
Sully glances over at his brother, who's watching me with unveiled interest. "You are so fucked, Omega."
He laughs on his way out my door, and Enzo, with one last heavy look in my direction, pulls the door shut behind them.
Somehow, like our drive away from the OFA, the silence is deafening.