Chapter 9 #2
The patio stretches along the rear of the Ackerman estate. Lanterns glow overhead while distant music spills through the open ballroom doors behind me. A few older men linger near the stone railing smoking cigars, their deep voices rumbling through the night air.
One of them notices me and quickly straightens. “Miss Gardener.”
When I realize it’s Mr. Stockton, the Alpha who tried courting my sister and marking her without her consent, my jaw clenches tight. He’s grayer than the last time he was on the island, with his age showing more on his face, and I like to think karma is aging him faster after what he did to Violet.
“Mr. Stockton,” I reply with stiff formality.
The other Alphas glance over and politely murmur their greetings before one of them taps Dominic Stockton’s arm, pulling the group farther down the patio. Giving me privacy.
Good. I’m not sure I’d be able to keep any interaction with him Luxe-like.
The silence after they leave feels strangely peaceful. I move toward the railing, letting the cool breeze settle me, but halfway there I feel it.
Awareness. The sharp prickling sensation of being watched trickles down my spine and I turn.
Alpha. Tall. Lean. Dressed entirely in white.
The feathered mask obscures most of his face, but his blue-eyed gaze locks onto mine like he knows exactly who I am.
And the world goes still.
A bloom of light laced with electricity detonates between us, sudden and sharp, so intense it steals the air from my lungs.
I can’t breathe. This must be the Alpha Alicia and her friends were talking about. The one in white.
Something deep inside me throbs sharply, heat rushing beneath my skin so fast it makes me dizzy. His pine scent surrounds me and my heart races.
Do I…know him?
Then panic snaps through me. I look away immediately. I have to.
Whoever this man is, he affects me too much to be someone I’ve met before.
I press my fingers lightly against my throat to steady myself. Maybe the drinks tonight were stronger than I thought. Maybe I’m overtired. Maybe—
I glance up at him again before I can stop myself.
And he’s closer now.
“Hi—Hello…” I stammer and then blush with embarrassment.
My God. I’m just as pathetic as the other Omegas. What the hell is wrong with me?
His mouth lifts in a small smile. “Marigold.”
I blink. “You know my name?”
For half a second, the Alpha freezes.
Then he clears his throat, one hand adjusting the edge of his opposite cuff like he’s buying himself time. “Of course I do,” he says, voice low and smooth beneath the strange roughness threaded through it. “You’re this Season’s Luxe Omega.”
Oh, right.
Idiot.
“Yes, well…” I cover myself with a quick laugh. “That makes sense.”
For one strange, suspended moment his gaze lingers on me, longer than it probably should. Then he tilts his head slightly. “What are you doing out here? Isn’t your evening full of dances?”
“It was,” I admit. “I think I needed a break from all the…” I wave vaguely toward the ballroom behind us. “Everything.”
The tension in his shoulders loosens. “That bad?”
“No,” I say. “Just a lot.”
A quiet hum leaves him. “I can’t even imagine.”
For a while, neither of us says anything. Does he not know how much of a stir he’s caused tonight? How the Omegas inside are all in a tizzy over his presence? It seems impossible that he doesn’t know, but his demeanor doesn’t hint at a lie. I don’t think he is aware.
Another interesting twist.
The ballroom music flows faintly through the open doors behind us while lantern light flickers across the white feathers of his mask.
Up close, he smells clean and sharp, like pine needles after rain, but underneath is a completely different scent.
Something familiar, but it’s too faint to make out.
Something about it settles under my skin in the strangest way.
“I don’t believe I know your name,” I say finally. “Have we met before?”
He goes still and glances over to the path where Dominic Stockton and the other men disappeared.
“I’m…no one important.”
“That’s your name? Mister No One Important?”
A deep, low laugh rumbles from him. “Something like that.”
“Well.” I smile before I can stop myself. “It’s nice to meet you, No One.”
He grins, his lips pulling up to expose white teeth. I don’t know why the expression affects me so much, but it does. It loosens something tight inside my chest, and suddenly the ballroom feels impossibly far away.
My mini tablet buzzes again inside my handbag. Another dance request. I ignore it.
Mister No One notices. His gaze drops briefly toward the bag before returning to my face. “You really are avoiding your admirers tonight.”
I flash a wry smile. “Can you blame me? It’s awfully crowded in there.”
“No, not at all.”
And before I can think too hard about what I’m doing, I ask, “Would you like to walk with me?”
He pauses. Then he offers me his arm. “I’d enjoy it. Very much.”
I slide my hand into the crook of his elbow and we wander down the path. Away from the bright lights and drifting conversation. We meander until the sounds of the party dull into soft background noise.
Trees wrapped in golden fairy lights arch overhead while gravel crunches beneath our shoes. The farther we walk, the easier it is to breathe.
What is it about him?
Maybe it’s the lack of posturing. The way he doesn’t constantly angle for my attention or try to impress me every second we speak. He feels quiet somehow. Steady. Like he’s comfortable with silence.
We follow the line of lights down a winding garden path until we reach a smaller courtyard tucked away behind tall hedges. There’s an old swing hanging beneath a flowering archway and several cushioned benches scattered beneath dim lanterns.
“This is beautiful,” I murmur.
No One examines me instead of the courtyard. I can feel his gaze across my skin. “Yeah, it really is.”
I move toward the swing and sit carefully, smoothing my dress beneath me.
“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” he asks after a pause.
“I was hoping you’d push me,” I tease. When a startled laugh escapes him, I say, “No, I don’t mind.”
To my surprise, he steps behind me.