Episode 2 Welcome to the Fairy Tale
One month later
The flight to Liora was long and uneventful. I spent most of it working my way through a sudoku puzzle book, doodling clothing designs on my tablet, and trying not to let the alphas on the plane send me into a full-on panic attack thirty thousand feet in the air.
Once I landed, production whisked me into a hotel near the airport.
Nothing fancy—clean lines, neutral walls, utilitarian in every possible way.
The kind of place built for exhausted business travelers on a layover, not romantic television contestants.
I slept restlessly, nerves tangling into strange dreams involving sledgehammers, glitter, and the host’s overly white smile.
By morning, muscle memory kicked in. I showered, braided my hair, and slipped into the arrival outfit Haven insisted on—white wide-legged linen trousers and a crocheted cropped tank. “Breezy tropical chic,” she’d called it. “But not too chic. Save the drama dress for the introduction ceremony.”
From watching the show, I know exactly what comes next: we, the omegas, make our grand entrance at the Port Azure docks, filmed in flattering morning sunlight, before boarding separate boats to the resort a short sail away.
It’s all about capturing that excited first-day energy, the kind I’m mostly faking, too nervous to feel excited.
The docks are already buzzing when my taxi pulls up. Crew members in black shirts weave between cameras, drones, and piles of luggage, directing lost-looking omegas where to stand. A banner reading Alpha Love Getaway: Royal Edition flaps lazily in the sea breeze, indicating where I should go.
Standing dead center, tablet and headset in place, is Lulu. I recognize her bright red hair and wide smile from the video chats we’ve had since I agreed to come on the show.
She spots me the second I put a foot on the dock. “Florence! Great, you’re right on time.”
I give her a small wave and hurry to her side, more than ready to get this over with.
Of course it won’t be over with for at least a few days, maybe longer.
She scans me from head to toe, lips pursing like she finds my outfit lacking.
When I glance at the other omegas, I find most of them in swimsuits, tits on full display and shapely legs gleaming with oils.
“You’ve taken your suppressants?” Lulu asks immediately, like she can’t already smell that I have.
I nod. “Yes. And I used the scent-canceling soap and body spray from IndulgScents this morning.”
“Excellent.” She taps something on her tablet, satisfied. “Thank you for that.”
I shrug, lifting my bag higher onto my shoulder. “I’m an omega who works with the public. I’m used to being careful with my scent.” Years of ballet made me even more obsessive about it. Can’t be in the middle of dancing a pas de trois and have my perfume hit the stage.
“Excellent,” she repeats, then leans in conspiratorially. “Most of the omegas we get for the show think their scent is their superpower, like they’re the one special snowflake destined for whatever pack we’re hosting. They try to get sneaky about it.”
I give a sympathetic nod. She’s not wrong. At the academy, scent matching was drilled into us from day one. It feels almost unnatural to court anyone while smelling like absolutely nothing but whatever soap you’ve used for the day.
But that’s the whole premise of Alpha Love Getaway: connection first, scent second. Choose with your heart, not your hormones.
Haven is convinced I’ll make it to the scenting ceremony.
I am… less so. Especially now, seeing the omegas I’m up against. Even from a distance they look polished in a way that I never will be.
“Okay,” Lulu says briskly, snapping her fingers at a nearby sound tech. “We’ll get you fitted with a microphone, then you can go join the other omegas. You’re arriving on boat two.”
I nod as a beta male approaches, black cord in his hands.
She looks down at her tablet. “And it looks like we have your NDA and your contract on file. So you know you can’t sue us if the pack doesn’t pick you, and we can sue you if you divulge anything about the process that isn’t aired by the network. ”
I did know that. Hale and Tic, one of Haven’s other alphas, had gone over both documents with a fine-toothed comb before letting me sign anything, making sure I wasn’t giving away anything I wouldn’t want to part with.
“And with that said, the royal family has asked that we inform a handful of the omegas that while they are grateful for your attendance and participation, you should go into the show knowing…” her lips purse tightly again, clearly displeased with whatever it is the royal pack requested. “You aren’t going to be picked.”
I jolt both at her words and at the sound guy’s hands getting far too intimate with the skin on my waist as he hooks up the microphone.
I arch my brows at the certainty with which she delivers this information. “I won’t?”
She smiles and shakes her head, tapping at something on the tablet in her hand. “Of course not. They’ll have to pick someone from Bravonne. The people would never accept an American omega for their royal pack. Tradition matters too much for that.”
I frown, then slap the guy’s hand away from me when he gets a little too close to my ass, taking over from him to avoid his grasping fingers. So unprofessional. “So then why am I here? Am I the only American?”
“No. You’re one of three. And you’re here to add a little spice to the mix, a little…
drama. They’ve been instructed to pick one of you and keep you until nearly the end.
The audience will love the drama. The Americans will love that one of you made it so far, the Bravonnians will be up in arms about it, but when the Ashbourne pack makes the right choice they’ll be ultimately overjoyed. ”
I glare at the sound guy when he tries to get close again. And he backs away, hands lifted. “And I suppose there’ll be a heartfelt scene where they let one of us American girls down gently, tell us how hard it is to make this choice?”
She smiles. “You really are a fan.”
“My best friend is.” I’ve watched every episode of Alpha Love Getaway with Haven. Mostly when she was recovering from a traumatic heat that she spent alone and locked in a defunct walk in freezer. She wanted something mindless and hopeful, and I couldn’t really deny her.
“What if they fall in love?”
Her eyes scrape over me and I force away the urge I have to fidget in front of her. I won’t give her another reason to look down on me.
“With you?’ I shrug. Because stranger things have happened. “That won’t be a problem,” Lulu says. “Believe me.” Her eyes scrape over me again, making it clear she finds me lacking.
Not that I give a shit. I’m used to it. Everyone finds me lacking.
It's part of why Haven and I bonded. The two weirdos at the Omega Academy.
Though Haven responded by striving to be the best, whereas I acted out in other ways, like sneaking out to meet up with the boys from the alpha college nearby.
My best friend still managed to drag me to the top of the class, though.
Which is one of the only reasons I’m here.
“The longer I stay the bigger the paycheck, correct?” I ask, because she’s just told me there isn’t a chance in hell of me winning this whole thing. But if I’m taking this much time off of work, I need to know I’m going to be compensated.
Unlike most of the omegas here, I don’t have a family footing my bills until I find my dream pack. Which is looking less and less likely.
She frowns. “Is that why you’re here? For the money?”
My frown matches hers as I shrug. “I am when I’ve been told in no uncertain terms I have no chance of being picked as the omega for the royal pack of Bravonne, yes. Some of us don’t have an entire country footing our bills.” Or anyone for that matter.
A throat clears behind me, low, masculine, and close enough to brush along my spine like an electric current. Lulu’s expression shifts instantly into something smug and eager.
I turn.
And freeze.
Well, shit.
Not a great first impression.
“Thayer,” Lulu breathes, almost swooning. When he arches a single brow at her, she stumbles over herself. “I-I mean, Prof-Lord Ashbourne. What- how- why are you here? You’re supposed to be waiting with the others. Out of sight of the omegas.”
Looking at pictures of the Ashbourne Pack didn’t prepare me for seeing them in person.
The colors were muted in the photos, I realize. Two-dimensional. Safe.
But here in the bright Liora sunshine?
Here he’s… blinding.
His eyes are a startling, impossible blue.
Like someone cranked the saturation up on them.
Freckles dust the bridge of his nose, warm and golden in the sun.
A breeze lifts a lock of his wavy brown hair, catching the bright threads of gold woven through it.
He pushes it back absently, and I swear it glints.
He is too damn good-looking. I think he knows it.
And that, on the heels of Lulu’s oh-so-kind reminder that their pack has already decided I’m not an option, makes something sharp and defensive snap up inside me. Pure instinct to protect the softest parts of myself.
Anxiety tries to rise, but my irritation burns it away before it can get traction. It only gets worse when he tilts his head, studying me like I’m an unexpected variable in an experiment. A problem to be solved.
It's somewhat familiar because Tic has looked at me the exact same way.
Stupidly intelligent problem solving alphas.
“Your pack isn’t supposed to be here yet,” Lulu babbles. “We’re filming the omega arrivals. This isn’t your cue, Th-Lord Ashbourne.”
He ignores her. His gaze stays fixed on me.
“Do you disagree?” he asks, head tilted like a bird.
It takes me a second to realize he’s referring to what I’d just said about the money. My mouth goes dry. Embarrassment flares, making me stumble over my words. “I-sorry?”