Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
CASSIDY
Hands shoved in the pockets of my loose linen pants, I lose myself in the streets of Savannah. It’s such a beautiful city, but my thoughts are a little heavy. I can’t fully enjoy the tourists laughing, or the lovers smiling at each other as I pass them.
Everyone is so fucking happy, while I’m in a funk.
It’s summer, so I can’t even blame seasonal depression. It simply feels as if everyone is finding their scent matches, and while I adore the three alphas in my pack at home, I worry it’ll be just us. Or, what if they scent match to a female omega and they decide they don’t want me anymore?
See? Fuck the funk.
I’m hiding my feelings, pretending everything is fine, but my nightmares chase me at night, causing me to sleep like shit. Abbott is worried about me, which is why I turned off my phone and I’m walking around pretending that everything is fine.
I’m calling this the alpha equivalent of hiding, though it would be very easy for my pack to find me. Abbott has a tracker injected under my skin because he’s possessive, and really fucking paranoid. Unless he gets really frustrated, he has promised not to use the app to find me.
That’ll have to be enough for now. My anxiety is a twatmuffin, and it’s ripping me apart.
This has been my life for a few months since I helped some friends reunite with their omega. Nina is sweet, fierce when it warrants it, and now my friend too. She’s not my omega, though.
I have to firmly watch my boundaries and ensure that I don’t cross hers. It’s exhausting, because sometimes I just want to snuggle an omega. Her alphas won’t like that, so I’ve been limiting my time with her, and finding hug centers with omegas to snuggle.
It’s becoming a problem. I feel touch starved, which shouldn’t be happening when my alphas are always touching me in some way, and we always sleep in bed wrapped in each other.
I often find myself going off to find a new center so I won’t end up a sad alpha regular.
My issue is that I’m addicted to omega pheromones, their scent, and how good their hugs feel.
It’s simply different from an alpha hug. Alphas are stronger, squeeze harder, and make me feel safe. I want to be the person who does this for others.
The centers were created to help both alphas and omegas who aren’t bonded. It’s also helping those who have lost their packs for one reason or another, and best of all, everyone is a consenting adult. I don’t think I could live with myself otherwise.
I pay with cash because I’m ashamed of myself for needing this. Abbott wants so badly to fix or understand why I’m distant, but how do I explain this to him?
We’re also in a holding pattern where he’s abstaining from sex with me.
He thinks that the happy feelings from orgasms will fuck with my nervous system, which is bullshit.
The other guys also follow what Abbott says, so I’m unfortunately stuck attempting to process my feelings while also having a blue clit.
It’s not that he, Shiloh, and Ansel aren’t understanding, they are. The four of us have been together for six years, and we collectively decided to start courting a year ago. We didn’t think we’d find someone overnight. Of course not.
The resounding disappointment is that there are omegas who are interested in my alphas, but not me. Abbott tells all of them that Pack Tremaine is a package deal, and that’s when they cut us loose.
Nina didn’t care that I’m a woman. It’s just a shame that I knew she would never be mine. I also didn’t want to overly confuse her while I helped her real pack reconnect with her. Vivian Sterling was a witch with a capital ‘b’ changed out for the ‘w’.
May she rot in hell, where she inevitably has to be after we killed her.
My feet slow as I pass by a sign that says ‘The Hug Project’. So many of these businesses have cute names, but this one is calling to me. It’s nestled in between a restaurant and a clothing boutique, and the windows open up to a reception area with pretty, soothing colors.
“You shouldn’t,” I whisper to myself. Glancing behind me, I try to talk myself into anything else. I like shoes, why can’t I have a craving for pretty Jimmy Choos, or a new pair of trainers for run club?
Ugh, only I would be addicted to fucking hugs! I feel so ungrateful, but there’s nothing like having an omega curl up in your lap while you play with their hair. Their pheromones just settle something inside of me, and they make me feel useful as I purr for them.
It’s a very frustrating and confusing situation.
“Fuck it,” I sigh, turning back toward the door. Jimmy Choo will be there another time, I suppose.
Pulling open the door, I walk into the reception area apprehensively. A woman with curly red hair and interested eyes sits behind the desk, waiting for me to come closer.
“Hi, are you here for the four o’clock session?” she asks.
“Sure,” I reply, not really knowing what that is. “This is for a cuddle session with an omega, right? I was walking by, and your sign caught my eye.”
“Oh! How wonderful for the both of us,” she says with a smile. “Yes, we have a room full of omegas, and they’ll just kind of come over to you so you can get your injection of dopamine and snuggles.”
My head tilts in confusion, because they’re not dogs, and I’ve never had an experience like this before. Should I leave?
This is kind of weird.
Typically, I book a slot with an omega on their roster to sit with. There’s rarely any conversation, but that’s fine for me. It’s not usually an omega area with other people.
My stomach flip flops uncomfortably, and I decide to go through with it. My gut has never steered me wrong. There has to be a reason I chose this street, on this day, to walk past this place.
“Okay,” I say. “Are you a newer business by chance? I haven’t seen you before and tend to walk past this street often for work.”
It’s a lie, because while I do tend to walk this street often because my favorite lunch spot is here, it’s not for work.
“Oh yes,” the girl says with a bright smile. Looking closer, I see that her name tag says her name is Jessika. “We opened up a couple of months ago. The owner wanted to bring something new to the market. Once the proper form is complete, I’ll take your payment.”
I’m not sure what’s new about it when there are at least eight other businesses who offer these services as well, so I simply nod and fill out the requisite form.
“Thank you, your total today will be sixty-seven dollars,” she explains.
The price is a little higher than others I’ve been to, but I’m not hurting for money. My pack and I do very well financially. The establishment seems clean as well, I just can’t shake off the feeling of wrongness I’m getting.
Still, I’m here, so I pay for the service in cash, and my form gives the company both a fake name and address. I don’t want to leave a paper trail behind.
“Please take your shoes off before entering the room,” Jessika says serenely, gesturing to the shoe cabinet in front of a blue door.
Raising my brow, I shrug as I pull a pair of my favorite gold loafers off my feet and deposit them into the shoe cabinet. They’re so comfortable, I can walk for miles in these without any socks.
I think some of the biggest things that keep me going are working out regularly, running, and my collection of shoes. My pack is a given, but when I need a genuine hit of endorphins, those have been my go to indulgences.
Now, I find it in a semi-shady cuddle business wearing my favorite gray linen pants and a black tank top with my crossbody green Prada bag. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
“You can go right in,” Jessika says with a nod, her hand moving through the air to nudge me forward.
“Oh. Of course, sorry,” I murmur, opening the door. Something about it makes the hair on my arms stand, and it’s not because of the air conditioning blowing on my tanned skin.
Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that I have a gun in my handbag, a knife in the back pocket of my pants, and that my belt always has a coil of wire to work in a pinch as a garrote.
Abbott and our pack has its admirers as well as its enemies, and he reminds me regularly of potential danger. However, we haven’t pissed anyone off in a while. Our jobs have been out of town, our current businesses are doing well, and we’ve never owed anyone money.
Still, something feels off.
Walking inside anyway, I know that Abbott is probably already tracking me since it’s been a couple of hours since I left the house. He’s simply not patient enough to wait much longer than this for me to figure out my shit.
I love him so much, but my alpha is a fucking psychopath.
“Go ahead and find pillows and blankets to lay in,” a matronly woman says as I walk into the room. “We’ll bring the omegas inside in just a moment.”
There are five other alphas here, and two smaller rooms with darkened windows along the far wall. This is reminiscent of some of the classroom set ups that are becoming more popular for breakout sessions I recently read about in an article. However, this isn’t a school, so what are those rooms for?
“Thank you,” I say. “Out of curiosity, what’s with those rooms?”
“They’re private spaces for alphas who want a more intimate experience,” she exclaims. “It’s why we offer the group hug service as our baseline.”
I’m very confused. Nodding, because what the fuck else am I supposed to do, I find myself a spot near an emergency exit. If things get too hot, I’ll kill everyone in the room and leave.
It’s been too quiet lately. Maybe I need some excitement in my life.
The blankets are clean and soft, but I still push them to the side so I’m sitting on the carpet. I’m getting very sketched out, and feel as if I may need a black light for the blankets.