Chapter 11 #2
But through it all, I’m searching for a glimpse of white. Or someone with a feathered mask.
No One’s box is in my bag with my mini tablet, which buzzes nonstop. Every Omega I pass whispers about the mysterious Alpha in white from the Ackerman ball. Apparently, they’ve been searching for him all night too.
But no one’s seen him. That fact settles unpleasantly in my stomach.
I don’t want to think that No One was only ever meant to be one fleeting moment. One impossible night hidden behind masks and fairy lights, and a kiss that ended too quickly.
By the time the evening finally winds down, I’m exhausted in a way that has nothing to do with dancing. I barely even remember the ride home.
The house is mostly quiet when we return. Mom goes off into the kitchen for some migraine medicine while Rue rushes upstairs to jump into the shower before me. I don’t mind, though. As long as she doesn’t hog all the hot water.
On second thought, I may wait until morning to shower… I’m ready for my bed.
I slip my heels off by the foyer stairs and start toward my room, wanting nothing more than to collapse face-first into bed and stop thinking about the impossible Alpha in White.
I’m halfway up the stairs when the creak of footsteps sounds behind me. Turning, I catch a glimpse of a familiar face, those black-rimmed glasses, that smile. The first genuine smile of the evening.
“Reece?”
He waves, stepping into the low light. “Mari.”
He must have been trying to sneak by without anyone noticing—why, I have no idea—but seeing him makes the tightness in my chest loosen. His sleeves are rolled up and his dark hair messy like he’s been working late in the shed again, and something about this look has my thoughts stuttering.
“Sorry for disturbing you,” he whispers and glances over his shoulder. “I was just—”
“Disturbing me? You’re not disturbing me.” I walk down two steps, but when he backs up, I pause. “Is everything okay? You seem a little…”
“What? Me?” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine. About to go to bed myself. I stayed up too late again, lost in my…work. And I have an early morning, so…”
There’s something he’s not telling me. Why does it sting so much? “Ah, okay.”
“But…what about you? How was the dinner tonight?”
“Fine.” The answer comes too quick and sharp, and the instant it leaves my mouth, guilt twists inside me because I never snap at Reece.
But instead of appearing hurt or offended, his expression softens. “Rough night, huh?”
“No.” I exhale loudly. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. A long night, for sure.”
Crossing his arms, he leans one shoulder against the wall and waits for me to continue.
Do I tell him about the Alpha in White? Friends or not, it seems silly to tell him about a guy that I’ve been obsessing over since the Ackerman ball. Especially when I don’t even know his name.
“I just…” I stop and shake my head. “It’s stupid.”
“It probably isn’t.”
I laugh to cover my embarrassment, but it burns up my neck. “I was hoping to see someone tonight.”
Reece goes very still. “Oh.”
“He didn’t show up,” I mutter. “And now I feel ridiculous for caring. I built the anticipation in my head for nothing.”
For one strange second, something unreadable flickers across his face. Relief, maybe. Or guilt. I can’t tell, but neither makes sense.
“You’re not ridiculous,” he says quietly. “He must be special to you.”
“If I’m being honest, I don’t know what he is to me,” I admit. “Or what he might be.”
A slight, sad smile tugs at Reece’s mouth, but it disappears almost immediately when he clears his throat. “Well, this was only a small dinner party, right?”
I nod.
“So maybe he’ll show up at the next official Season event. I wouldn’t give up hope yet,” he says. “Not if this is important to you.”
He’s just being nice, which I appreciate, but after such a long, disappointing night, I don’t have the energy to keep talking about it. So I force a small smile and say, “Yeah. Sure. Goodnight, Reece,” before turning and heading up the stairs again.
But sleep doesn’t bring peace.
Because when I finally drift off, my dreams are full of No One.
Not his face—I still can’t fully picture it beneath the mask—but his hands. His voice. The feeling of him standing close enough that the air changes around me.
In the dream, I’m back beneath the trees by the swing, stars glowing overhead while the scent of pine needles floods my senses.
When someone steps behind me, one hand sliding along the bare skin of my arm, I know deep down in my bones it’s him. My body responds instantly beneath his touch.
“I tried to find you tonight,” I whisper. “I wanted to see you again.”
His mouth brushes the curve of my throat, and I shiver. “I know.”
His hands glide down my arms before settling at my waist, pulling me back carefully against his chest. I can feel the shape of him behind me—warm and solid and dangerous in a way that makes my pulse race instead of warning me away.
“You smell divine, Marigold,” he murmurs against my skin. “Like midnight flowers.”
I turn in his arms, desperate to see him clearly, but the mask never fully comes into focus.
Only his mouth, his gem-blue eyes, and his black slicked-back hair.
“Who are you?” I ask softly against the night’s stillness. “What is your name?”
“No One.”
“That’s not fair.”
A low laugh vibrates across my skin. “You’re so preceptive, Marigold. But you’ve always had such a hard time seeing what’s right in front of you.”
I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but my question flies out the window when he crushes his lips against mine again.
In the dream, he kisses me. Slowly at first, almost teasing, until I melt against him with a helpless sound and something in him snaps.
Things change instantly. The kiss deepens. Turns hotter. Hungrier. One hand tangles into my hair while the other grips my waist, making my breath catch.
I cling to him, kissing him back with equal desperation as heat floods through every inch of me. His thigh presses between mine and my entire body arches toward him before I can stop myself.
“Oh,” he breathes against my mouth like he can barely stand it either.
The word alone nearly has me undone.
I can feel him everywhere—his chest against mine, his breath, his hands sliding slowly along my body like he’s memorizing every curve. And when he kisses down the side of my throat, lingering there long enough to make my knees weak, pleasure sparks so violently through me that I wake with a gasp.
Darkness fills my room. My pulse hammers wildly. My entire body is overheated beneath the blankets. I rip them off.
I’m shaking. There’s a pulsing beat low in my body, and when I tug up my nightgown, I find the insides of my thighs slick with clear, pearly wetness that catches the moonlight. It glistens against my skin, sticky and warm.
My breath catches.
I touch it with my fingertips and hold it up to study. The substance stretches slightly between them before melting, smooth against my skin, almost silky.
For one disoriented second, I just stare.
Then it hits me.
Oh.
A trembling breath leaves me as realization crashes over me all at once. This is slick.
Another pulse throbs between my legs, sharper this time, and I jerk slightly at the sensation. Everything feels sensitive and too warm, too tight, too aware. Too needy.
“Holy shit,” I whisper into the darkness. “I’m in trouble.”