Chapter 2
Two
VIOLET
T he screen of my phone flashes, and I scowl, flipping it over and ignoring the call before it starts vibrating across the hotel’s dresser. My mother has already called me three times since lunch, and no amount of ignoring her seems to be getting the message across. Is me being in Manhattan for this damn thing not good enough?
Of course not. She won’t be satisfied until I’ve matched with whatever senator’s son she’s set her eyes on this cycle. My fathers have been more understanding, Dad sending me a text early this morning while Papa and Father video called me together before Faedra and I went to lunch. Only Papa really understands my disinterest in matching. He’s the only one I’ve explained why I’ve dragged my feet in allowing the Council to woo me in with their promises of glitz and fun and passion.
“Violet, I think the car’s here.” Faedra’s voice is as frazzled as my nerves, though I’d never admit it.
I sigh, finishing my winged liner and putting on mascara before touching up my highlighter. I tuck both lipsticks into my wristlet before stuffing my phone in there, too, ignoring the two new notifications from my mother. The strappy heels take a minute to finagle into, and I’m silently cursing myself for being so stubborn about my outfit by the time I’m buckling the thin bands around my ankles.
“Violet?”
“Coming,” I say, my voice betraying the nerves sitting just under my skin. I curse, grabbing my wristlet and adjusting the hem of my dress around the heels as I walk into the shared living space of the hotel suite.
I hate that I’m nervous for this.
Faedra’s eyes skate over me, her lips tipping into a sly grin even as her eyebrows rise. The blush is instantaneous, though I silently curse that response, too.
“It’s probably too much, isn’t it?” I ask, smoothing my hands over my stomach and down my hips, adjusting the metallic green fabric.
She’s quick to shake her head, her voice soothing. “It’s perfect.”
Good .
I cross the room, grabbing one of the hotel keys from the small table beside the door and tucking it into my wristlet as I meet her at the door.
“Don’t know how I’m going to survive wearing these,” I joke, pulling up the hem of the green bodycon dress, showing off the three inch gold and black stiletto heels that match my jewelry. “But I guess the Council will just have to factor that into their decision.”
She cocks an eyebrow before shaking her head and letting out a huff of a laugh.
“Of course you’d wear something that would jeopardize your safety.”
She sighs, twisting the handle. The door swings open, and I follow her into the hallway.
“They’re fucking perfect, and you know it,” I say, regaining a bit of my normal confidence as we head down the long hallway to the elevator. Her phone sounds with a notification as we near the end, and she sends a quick text to someone before stopping in front of the elevators. I step around her since I can’t see over her shoulder even with the added height of the heels.
“Besides,” I say, glancing over my shoulder, “Alphas are almost ridiculously tall. The last thing I want is for them to think I’m some dainty, virginal eighteen-year-old. The idea of ending up with a pack that idealizes that makes me want to vomit.”
I scrunch up my nose as I push the call button. Twice. Who honestly only presses it once?
Faedra glances away, her flinch subtle, and I keep my gaze on the patterned carpet just behind her. We’ve never talked about it—not since that night freshman year when her date went poorly. I had double checked she didn’t need a Plan B. Best friends look out for each other, you know? Her cheeks had matched her red hair, her freckles nearly completely invisible when she’d admitted she’d never slept with anyone and certainly not deadbeat Tyler.
Maybe the virginal comment went too far. I didn’t realize she hasn’t been with anyone since then. I know she’s nervous for tonight.
Faedra and I are opposites, my dark to her light. She’s been quietly stressing about this for weeks, agonizing over her dress and hair and makeup until I thought she would make herself sick. She’s normally the first one to rise to a challenge, to throw herself wholeheartedly into something new. But matching is different, I guess. It’s certainly more permanent. I cringe at the thought.
My mom was practically giddy when my dad told her I’d officially agreed to go to this gala. And anything that makes my mom happy makes me want to vomit and then run in the opposite direction. The reality is, I wouldn’t even be here if my last heat hadn’t been the absolute clusterfuck from hell.
For an unmatched, single Omega, there aren’t a ton of options for dealing with your heats. You can either suppress them like Faedra has done, consent to being sedated, or ride them out using toys. But even toys suck after a while. It’s like… like your body knows that it’s all fake and starts to reject it. Ridiculous, I know. And it’s not like my vibrators don’t do it for me. It’s just the knotting toys. Maybe it’s only become that way for me because I’ve started hooking up with Alphas the last couple years. I had adamantly refused anyone that wasn’t a Beta until my twenty-first birthday. You can’t miss something if you don’t realize it exists, you know?
But having now been through eight heats on my own, the appeal of the knotting toys has seriously diminished. Last fall, I decided I was willing to try going to one of the havens the Council has set up in larger cities to help Omegas that are caught off guard and don’t want to be suppressed or sedated. Hiding out in the dorm for a week while Faedra still went to classes just didn’t sound appealing to me. The place was nice enough—soothing colors and comfortable, plush nests. But everything smelled wrong , especially the Alphas who worked there and helped me through the heat.
Well, one of them, at least. The other had smelled...
The elevator opens, and I cut off my daydreaming, once again grateful for whichever group of scientists invented the newest scent blocking technology. Not a single note of my honeysuckle scent permeates from me despite that lingering fantasy. It’s certainly better than remembering my heat last month at the same facility. The Alpha I’d liked apparently chose to deactivate. And the two that were there? Definitely not the Alphas for me.
Faedra steps into the elevator, and I follow, forcing more confidence into my walk than I feel at the moment, channeling all that desperation I felt over spring break into something useful right now. The display flashes with each floor as we descend.
“The hotel is really nice,” Faedra whispers. “The Council must be happy we finally relented and picked a date.”
I nod, keeping the secret of my Papa paying for the room to myself. The Council typically picks one hotel—two, if it’s an especially large gala—for the Omegas. They intentionally coordinate with the staff to make sure no Alphas are working that day. One less place for possible unintended meet cutes or something. No way was I going to crowd into that hotel, surrounded by Omegas who were mostly younger than me and certainly way more excited to be at this damn event. When I admitted as much to Papa, he came in clutch, booking the room under Faedra’s name so my mother wouldn’t realize we were staying somewhere else.
Faedra taps her fingers against her clutch, pressing it into her stomach like a protective shield.
“Deep breath, Faedra.” I clasp her elbow as the elevator opens to the main lobby. “Alphas are going to be interested in you, I promise.”
Who wouldn’t be interested in her? She’s gorgeous, her red hair falling in perfect combed-through curls over one shoulder, her freckles dotting her skin like kisses of sun, her green eyes reminding me of Seattle in the summer. She’s vibrant and confident and sharp as a nail, her intellect downright arousing . Everyone knows just how beautiful she is. Except, it seems, her… which is the cruelest irony.
She doesn’t say anything as we cross the hotel floor but offers a smile to the doorman who helps us out onto the busy sidewalk. There’s a nondescript black car pulled to the curb, hazards flashing orange in the glow of the sunset, and she cuts a direct line for it, leaving me to catch up to her. Once we’re both settled in the back seat, the driver gives a small nod and starts the twenty block trek across Manhattan, right into the heart of billionaire’s row.
By the time we’ve reached the third red light, Faedra is rolled into herself, her shoulders nearly to her ears.
“You’re even more quiet than normal,” I say, trying to get her talking. If she clams up now, the night is going to be a nightmare. When she shrugs, I lace our fingers together. “Once the awkward first round of mingling fades, it’ll be good. The first ten minutes are always uncomfortable at big events like this.”
I intentionally don’t think about all the private galas I’ve had to attend with my parents. I try to not resent my dad’s wealth, his influence, but those parties are always dreadful.
Faedra doesn’t seem convinced, messing with one of her piercings, looking out over the city.
“By the time the dancing starts, I’m sure you’ll have found at least one Alpha that you like.”
She shrugs before saying, “I had to switch to the big suppressant.”
“Oh shit, Fae,” I say before I can reel in my reaction.
How many does that make now? I can’t remember. She glances at me, chewing at her bottom lip.
“Is this your…” I think back quickly, trying to track them over the last couple years. “Third?”
She nods once, and I grimace. I’ve heard horror stories of one suppressed heat. I can’t even imagine how rough it must be suppressing three in a row. Faedra sighs.
“I just worry that I won’t be…” She twirls her hand near her head. “Omega enough, Vi. I don’t crave touch the way you do. I don’t desire to be around people all the time or hear compliments, either.”
Except she does. Every time someone mentions how her hair looks or that they like her outfit, she lights up. And not craving touch is a common symptom of the suppressants. I keep my mouth shut, though, knowing she just needs to get it out. Faedra gets like this, stuck up in her head. If I get her talking, she tends to calm down—and tonight, she needs to be as calm and relaxed as possible.
“What happens if no pack wants me, and I have to go through a heat alone?”
My chest tightens. I grab her arm and squeeze her hand.
How long has she been worried that she’ll go unmatched? I’ve been sitting here stewing over my mother’s social climbing by proxy, and my best friend has been agonizing over the—completely unfounded and virtually unheard of—potential of not being matched with any active and available packs after tonight’s gala.
“They’ll want you, Fae. You’re witty, smart, graceful. Not to mention a fucking bombshell.” Her lip quirks up, and I mentally high five myself. “Don’t worry. There’ll be good packs there that you’ll fit with.”
The car slows, falling in behind several other nondescript vehicles stopping at the curb. I unbuckle and grab my clutch, watching a group of guys get out of the SUV in front of us and head toward the waiting throng of cameras on their way to the entrance of the event center.
“I know this is practically impossible for you,” I say, “but try to turn off that analytic brain and just have fun tonight. That’s what the Council wants to see—it’s part of why they don’t show up here in person.”
That, and to keep prying outsiders from trying to bribe them into making certain matches. Universe knows, my mom would be all over them in a heartbeat if any of them actually showed up to one of these to witness it all.
The car edges forward and a valet rushes to open our door, his blue polo matching the rest of the staff working the outside of the event. I take the hand he offers, using it to give myself an extra moment to get situated in the thin heels, twisting to make sure Faedra is managing all right. The golden hue of her clutch flashes against the black leather of the car, and I grab it before the valet can close the door.
I tuck it into her hands, interrupting her nervous fidgeting and smoothing of her dress.
“Clutch,” I murmur.
I keep my eyes trained on the group of media workers, noting two reporters heading our direction. One has that look in their eye—the one that means they recognize who I am. Faedra mutters a curse, and I manage a small laugh. She doesn’t seem to notice just how tense it is—a testament to her own nerves. I force myself to relax and remember the years of training my Papa paid for so I wouldn’t start throwing punches at these types of things. Keeping my steps sure, I move past the red carpet entry, bypassing it for the more normal walk toward the entrance. Faedra’s breathless laugh follows as she keeps a step behind me.
The news reporter from earlier, her brown eyes sharper than her winged liner, steps in front of me, her microphone held confidently toward us. Faedra steps around me, keeping her head ducked away from the woman. Can’t blame her. She glances at me, and I wink before focusing on the woman again.
“Everyone’s been waiting for you to match, Miss Fallon.” It takes every well-trained muscle in my body to not scowl at the woman. “What’s it like for you to finally be standing at the precipice of your Matching Gala?”
“Oh, I’m just excited to have a night of fun,” I say, intentionally bright and upbeat. The woman nods and smiles in encouragement. I ham it up just for her benefit. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and I’m ready to make the most of it!”
The woman murmurs a thank you and turns for the next Omega, my name and borrowed clout already forgotten now that she has me on film. Another reporter starts zeroing in. I turn away and navigate the others nearing the entrance, catching up to Faedra before she makes it inside.
Faking it for one camera is more than enough for me tonight.
Faedra relaxes the moment I catch up to her, and I elbow her in the side, smirking.
“You’re welcome.”
She laughs.
Good .
“Owe you for that one,” she says as we navigate around a few groups taking their time getting into the ballroom. The moment an Omega bumps into her on the other side, she bites her lip and messes with her hair, scanning the space around us.
“Let’s get you your one allowed drink,” I say over the din, hooking her arm in mine, “and then find a spot to see the Alphas. I’m sure there will be someone that sticks out to you.”
Her shoulders relax as she takes a deep breath, though she fidgets with her ear piercings as we head toward the open doors.
“What about you?” she asks.
Making the most of tonight by finding someone who smells delicious and fucking them senseless . If I can walk straight in the morning, this evening went to shit.
I give her a wink.
“Don’t you worry about me, Fae. You know how I am.”
She giggles as I steer her into the room full of Alphas.
May the Council have mercy on me.