Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Marigold
“No!” Heath’s voice booms up the stairs, and I jump. “I don’t care what the Queen Bee says! Or anyone on Stitch, for that matter.”
Rue’s voice chirps out a response but I can’t make out the words.
“Because you’re not a reporter, Rue.” Heath, on the other hand, is louder still. “Go away, I’m busy.”
The slam of his door reverberates through the whole house. I ignore it.
I turn the small jet-black box I found over in my hand. Strange thing. It glimmers like a jewel but it isn’t one.
There’s what looks like a charging port of some kind, thin and beveled on one side if you shine the flashlight of your phone down it, which I’ve done. But it’s not like the port on my phone or any other I’ve seen. The slot is thinner.
So maybe not a charging port at all? Something else?
My mind works itself in circles but I’ve got no clue what this thing is or what it does.
It’s also not pretty enough to stand as a centerpiece on a chain or in a tiara. And it’s not overly masculine. It’s different, and warm to my touch when I pick it up. But of course that could just be my imagination.
Which tends to run away with me on the best days.
“You’re as big of a mystery as No One is, aren’t you?” I frown and shake the box. “Tell me your secrets.”
No One. The Alpha in White. The man who made my heart lurch and beat a frantic dance before he disappeared.
I don’t know him. So why did familiarity nag at me? Why does it feel like his identity is right there, ready to be discovered?
But I liked how he took control of the situation, from directing me to the swing to controlling my flight. He made hidden parts of me soar, and feel new things between my thighs.
I try to breathe. “It was just a swing ride.”
And a kiss.
The type of kiss designed to send jolts of electricity through the lucky recipient. I’d clung to him but found nothing else, only heat. No answers.
I whisper the words. “No One.” It’s like I’m trying it out, savoring the sound. Like it’s an actual name.
It isn’t, but it’s all I have. And I want more.
All I need to do is wait until the next ball is announced. Hopefully he’ll be there and I can find him. We can dance again and—
It all seems too far away now.
Who kisses a girl like he did but doesn’t ask her on a date after?
I sit up straight, setting the jewel-like box on top of my closed sketchbook.
No One may not be on the Season’s official list, but this is a modern world. There are tons of social media apps and ways to track someone’s identity. He’s bound to be on one of them, right?
What if I find him and contact him? Would that be too much?
Heart fluttering, I snatch up my phone, already open to Stitch. But the adrenaline drains away.
I doubt No One will be his profile name. I have no way to search for a masked stranger in a sea of thousands. There’s no other information to go on other than his scent. And no way to distinguish a scent through social media. Shit.
I flop back against the pillows with a frustrated groan, letting my phone fall onto my stomach, and at that exact moment my door slams open and Rue marches in, arms crossed.
She glowers at nothing in particular but the sullen pout means one thing.
Before Rue can ask any questions, I slip the little box thing into the pocket of my dress.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, patting a spot on my bed.
“Heath!” She drops down, breathing out heavily. “He’s the worst. I showed him the latest from the QB. How she’s been badmouthing him on Stitch, but he doesn’t care.”
“He shouldn’t care,” I say.
She digs out her phone. “Then why does he care when it’s about Violet or Iris or you? Why do the rumors matter when they’re about us? Talk about a double standard.”
She’s got a point there.
“And don’t tell me it’s because you all were in your Season,” she says with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Technically he is, too. Just like the QB says, it’s been seven years for him. Even if he claims he’s not participating. He’s got some balls complaining about any of us.”
I want to agree with her, and deep down I do, but there’s something else going on with Heath that we aren’t seeing. And he’s too stubborn to talk about it.
To be honest, I feel a bit bad for him. But I keep that to myself.
“There’s nothing you can do about it, Rue.” I bounce lightly when she drops dramatically onto her back beside me. “Let it go.”
“Yeah. Forget Heath,” she says as she scrolls. “Tell me about last night. Were you one of the lucky ones to get a glimpse of the Alpha in White?”
I sit up, my heart in my throat. “Why?”
“He’s all over Stitch,” she says. “Look.”
I grab the phone and read as bile rises.
Rue is right. Pictures of No One make up every other post on Stitch, all grainy snapshots and shaky little videos taken from across the ballroom or outside in the gardens. In some, he’s nothing more than a blur of white moving through the dark. Like a ghost.
And every single Stitch is flooded with comments demanding to know who he is. There are tons of speculations but no actual answers.
So I’m not the only one intrigued, and not the only one scanning social media for clues.
I hand the phone back to Rue. “He told me he’s from the mainland.”
Her eyes widen. “So you did meet him? I knew you would! You are the Luxe, after all. If anyone’s going to dance with the most handsome Alpha of the Season, it’s you!”
“It wasn’t for very long,” I say. “And he didn’t even tell me his name.”
Dance. Swing. Kiss.
All those pictures on Stitch shouldn’t stoke some kind of jealous fire inside me but they do.
Face scrunching up in thought, Rue glances back down at her phone. “Well, knowing he’s from the mainland is something, at least.” She gasps. “I should message the QB! She’s dying to find out who he is.”
That makes two of us.
“If you find out anything else about him, will you let me know?” I try not to sound as interested as I am.
“Oooh, why? Is he the top Alpha contender for you?” She nudges my arm with her elbow. “Are you hoping he marks you?”
“I never said that,” I say. “I’m just curious is all.”
Curious is an understatement.
But I’m not telling Rue how No One was able to awaken every nerve in my body with his proximity. Or how his lips on mine made my thighs clench with need. Those are private things. And they’re mine.
My hand brushes against the metal box and I squeeze it through my dress. I have a clue the others don’t.
Not that it helps me.
In school, Omegas are taught the practical things first—marks, heats, knots, bonding, pregnancy. Everything is clinical and biological, all focused on about what we are and what mating means.
Love is treated like an optional bonus.
Most mates are chosen for far less romantic reasons: family alliances, money, status, good genetics, producing children. Sensible choices. Safe choices.
True love? True mates?
That’s the kind of thing people turn into stories instead of actually living. Fairytales told to little Omegas before reality sets in.
But watching my older sisters go through their Seasons taught me that it can happen.
Violet found it. Iris found it. They were lucky,
And when I compare the way I felt dancing with No One to every other Alpha I’ve spent time with this Season, it’s completely different. Night and day.
What I wouldn’t give to see him again.
“When’s the next one?” I blurt out. “Do you know?”
“The next ball? It hasn’t been announced yet. But that bitch Alicia’s having an exclusive dinner on Saturday, so naturally she won’t shut the hell up about it.”
I knew that. A private dinner won’t be as big as a formal ball, which means the guest list will be more limited. But maybe there’s a chance he’ll be there?
“I guess it could be fun, right, Mari?” Rue looks at me anxiously. “I wouldn’t mind going. It beats staying home in my room all night. Maybe I can be your plus-one or your chaperone, whatever.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “What about Heath? There’s no way he’s going to let you do that.”
“Heath’s not going,” she says. “He wouldn’t tell me why, but he said he already had plans.”
Plans? Again? He’s been disappearing a lot lately, hasn’t he?
“You sure you don’t want to babysit Alder, or visit Iris at Nightshade?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Violet and Stephan are in Emporia this week. And Iris is too busy with Council stuff. She’s never there anymore.”
“Guess you’re stuck with me then.” Laughing, I bump noses with her. “You can come with me.”
“O.M.G.! This will be amazing.” She jumps up, long hair flying. “We can drink and dance and I’ll steer you away from the ugly Alphas and…” Rue clasps her hands tight. “You can wear one of the new dresses you got, courtesy of Pen.”
“Pen?”
She nods. “Just arrived! They’re still in boxes downstairs. I may have stolen a peek. They are gorgeous, even with all those feathers. Oh, oh! You have to let me pick one for you. I’ll style you head to toe! It’ll be so much fun.”
As much as having her pick my outfit makes me a little nervous, her excitement makes it hard for me to say no. So I paste on a smile and nod as she rushes out of the room.
No One doesn’t show.
At first, I tell myself he’s simply late. There’s still time for him to make an appearance.
The soiree is crowded, so it’s easy to miss someone in the beginning, especially someone who seems determined to stay hidden. Every time a tall Alpha in pale clothing catches my eye across the lantern-lit riverwalk, my pulse jumps before crashing all over again.
Not him.
Not him either.
Ugh. Definitely not him.
I feel stupid for fawning over someone like this, but I can’t stop my heart from skipping with the possibility of seeing him again.
Even though Heath is not here, Mom is, so I still do the dances expected of me. I still smile when spoken to, laugh when appropriate, do everything I must to play the part for the title I was given.
Dahlia is coming later, after another one of her private lessons, and Rue is loving all the photo sets the Dell family set up around the yard for guests to take selfies to post on social media.