Episode 2 The Beauty and the Aftermath
Florence
“Well, you just hang in there, dear,” the older woman pats my hand. “You’ll find your pack soon.”
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, and then give her a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, I know you’re right.”
I’ve heard this a million times since coming back to work a week ago.
It seems everyone watched RoyaLove Getaway and everyone has an opinion on it.
On me. On who the Ashbourne Pack should have kicked off instead of me.
On the date I planned. On the dates the other omegas planned. On my outfit choices and my hair.
But the thing that most people seem to have an opinion on is this: whether or not I will find another pack. Most seem to think I will. A few have tried to convince me to give them a shot, to let them take me out. Some have told me I’m going to be alone forever.
Those are the ones I agree with wholeheartedly, but I keep my truth to myself. No one wants to hear about how I won’t ever find another pack because my body simply won’t allow it.
“Have a wonderful day,” I say to the woman. She smiles and shuffles away, and I lift my eyes to the next person in line.
An alpha with slicked back hair and a shirt stretched tight over his admittedly impressive chest. He’s handsome enough, and in the past, I might have been tempted by the smile he throws my way as he saunters over to my counter. But now I don’t feel anything but nauseous.
“Hello.” I force a smile to my lips. “How can I help you?”
He leans his forearms on the counter and ratchets up his smile a notch. “You can give me your phone number.”
My smile doesn’t slip even as his musty book scent washes over me. It's not a pleasant smell, not like a library mixed with leather and coffee. No, this smell is of almost moldy paper and dust.
I haven’t smelled a single appealing alpha since I got back.
Even scents that would have made my omega stand up and take notice before, smell wrong.
“How about you give me your account number instead?”
He leans closer to me, smirking as he recites it to me. When I open his account I look up to find him watching me expectantly, like the amount in his checking account should make me swoon or something, but instead I just feel… hollow.
“How can I help you today?” I ask politely.
“What time does your shift end? How about you let me take you out?”
My already strained smile drops entirely. “No, thank you. I’m not currently looking to date.”
One of the worst things about being on the show is that I can no longer use a fictional boyfriend or pack to get me out of these types of situations. Everyone knows I’m single, at least for the next few months most likely.
“That’s okay, baby, we don’t have to date. You can just show me a good time.”
What an offer. Truly.
I stare at him, not sure I heard him right. “Pardon?”
He smirks. “What? You did that for the Ashbourne Pack, didn’t you? It's why they kept you around for so long when it was obvious they were going to choose Isadora.”
I’m proud of myself when I don’t wince at her name. “And I suppose you fancy yourself on the same level as a prince, do you?”
There’s a long drawn out silence between us, during which I simply stare at him with my mismatched eyes.
He shifts, uncomfortably, like I’d been intending.
Haven’s told me on more than one occasion that when I stare like this it’s disconcerting, witchy.
Like I’m staring into your soul and judging what I find.
The alpha drops his eyes and I move, reaching toward my keyboard. “How can I help you today?”
The rest of the transaction finishes without him hitting on me again, which is a relief.
If he’d pressed the issue, I’d probably vomit all over my desk.
I’ve been taking a lower dosage of the suppressants the doctors prescribed me.
I don’t want to be dependent on them for the rest of my life, but the side effect of that is that I have a stronger reaction to alphas in everyday life.
I’ve been told by the numerous doctors Haven has dragged me to over the last month, that eventually the way other alphas make my skin crawl will become less prevalent over time, as my body adjusts to its new normal.
Not enough for me to ever be able to have sex again, but so that interactions like the one that just occurred won’t make me feel like I’m going to pass out.
Still, I feel a little faint as he walks away, and when I see the next person in line is undoubtedly an alpha, I can’t stay at my station.
My shift is almost over anyway, close enough that under normal circumstances, I’d start counting my drawer in about ten minutes.
I’ll just start now and do it very slowly.
Twenty minutes later, I’m done and slipping out of the bank with a wave. Technically, I have a few minutes left on my shift, but no one says anything as I leave.
The mid-summer sun is in full display, shining down on me and giving me a much needed dose of vitamin d. I’ve been spending too much time cooped up indoors recently. Well, most of that is because I’m working, but ever since I got back, for some reason sunshine feels like an attack.
Not a literal attack of course, but it reminds me of the resort, of the show, of long hours lounging by the pool, surrounded by other omegas and the pack I had begun to think of as mine.
It makes me think of Piers calling me ‘sunshine’ and ‘little bird’ in the soft way of his.
It reminds me of everything I lost in a matter of moments.
And it drives me crazy that that is the case.
The Ashbourne Pack took so much from me, I can’t let them take this from me too.
The sun? Really? I can’t give them that much power.
Since I finished early, I know I’ll need to wait a bit for my ride. Every day, no matter how busy they are, one of the Calloways is here at four to pick me up and either take me home or to the yoga studio.
I pull out my phone as I linger, second guessing my need to escape early.
Now I’m out here on the street, where anyone can approach me.
Over the last month, it’s happened more than I would have thought.
I’m a fan of Alpha Love Getaway, but I would never approach the contestants if I saw them on the street like they’re celebrities.
I tuck my phone back into my bag, scanning the street like that’s going to make any difference. People pass by in both directions, most of them minding their own business, a few glancing at me with that same recognizing look I’ve grown used to.
I shift my weight, debating stepping back inside the bank and pretending I forgot something. I can duck into the break room until whoever is picking me up texts to let me know they’re here.
“Leaving early today?”
The voice is familiar enough that my stomach drops before I even turn.
Of course.
I glance over my shoulder to find the same alpha from earlier leaning casually against the brick wall a few feet away, like he’s been waiting for me.
His slicked back hair catches the sunlight, his shirt still stretched tight over his chest—though now there’s something sharper in his expression. Less charming. More… intent.
“I finished my shift,” I say shortly, turning back toward the street in the hopes he’ll take the hint.
He doesn’t.
He pushes off the wall and closes the distance between us like it’s nothing, like I didn’t just spend the last ten minutes making it abundantly clear I’m not interested. His musty book smell washes over me, making my mouth water unpleasantly as my stomach churns. It's just so… wrong.
“Good,” he says easily. “That means you’re free.”
“I’m not,” I reply, stepping to the side.
He mirrors the movement instantly, blocking me without even trying to hide it. My pulse ticks up, unease crawling over my skin. I glance around again, noting the same people walking by, but now they’re suddenly not interested in me.
“Come on,” he says, dropping his voice like we’re sharing something intimate. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I know what you are.”
Oh. My. God. This motherfucker.
“I already told you-”
“And I already told you,” he cuts in, reaching out. I flinch before he even makes contact, but his fingers still close around my wrist, using it to pull me into his body, even as he crowds me against the wall.
My breath stutters.
The world tilts just slightly.
“Let me go,” I say through gritted teeth, battling back the nausea that gets worse and worse the longer his skin is in contact with mine, the more he presses into me.
“Hey, no need for that. I just want to take you out. I’m not hurting you.”
“You are actually,” I say before swallowing down the swell of bile in my mouth. “Please. Believe me, you don’t want to be this close to me.”
He presses closer, which really doesn’t make sense. He must smell how distressed I am, he must be able to tell I’m not feeling well. But maybe he likes that? Maybe he’s the type of alpha who gets off on other people’s fear.
Of course he is because that’s my luck.
“I think I do want to be this close to you, closer if I can manage. What do you say, omega? You want my cock in that pretty little cunt? You want an alpha’s knot? It's been weeks since you’ve had one, hasn’t it?”
Years, actually.
But its none of his business. And even if I weren’t sick and could stomach the thought of anyone but my pack inside me, I certainly wouldn’t pick some limp-dick douche who thinks the way to get what he wants is through intimidation.
There’s no stopping what happens next. His words combined with his proximity, touch and scent swirl into a noxious concoction that swells in my belly and forces its way right up my throat, and all over his chest.
He blinks down at me in shock for a moment, before looking at his ruined shirt covered in vomit and then back to me.
“Told ya,” I say with a small, pleased smile, enjoying my work.