7. The Hunted
The Hunted
Cassius: One Month Later
She fucking hates me. This has to be my worst date yet.
She keeps staring off into the corner and glaring at me.
I can’t imagine what I have done to offend her.
I’ve done everything I usually do. I picked her up.
I gave her permission to look at me. I opened the car door, and I even engaged in conversation.
Despite not giving a shit. Maybe she can sense my disinterest.
Let’s face it, we both know we are not scent matches. This is not the love of my life, nor are we each other’s happily ever after, but that’s not her fault. I wasn’t going to walk away. I’m not risking being kicked from the program, and my mother would kill me if I was rude to an Omega.
“Have your friends been on many dates?” A safe topic, not much there that someone can be offended by.
She scoffs and rolls her eyes, and all politeness leaves my body. I let a low growl slip from my lips. She sits up straighter and has the self preservation to at least look a little scared and guilty. Her head lowers in submission, and a leafy green scent of apology wafts from her.
“Talk.” I command softly, enough that if she wanted to, she could ignore it.
She lifts her head, her eyes briefly connecting with mine before darting back off to the side.
“You dated my friend.”
“I haven’t been in a relationship with anyone.” I have zero interest in anyone who isn’t my mate. I’m not wired that way, for a casual relationship. I can’t picture allowing someone to touch me, let alone letting them into my heart.
The pollen scent of my own confusion tickles my nose.
“You went on a date with my friend,” she corrects.
That’s what this has been about? I honestly don’t understand why that qualifies her to be angry.
“Probably. That’s what these dates are for. Are they not?”
“You took her on this exact same date. She told me all about it. You’ve even asked the same questions,” she says.
Ah.
“They’re standard questions to get to know a person.”
I know I sound robotic and probably like a dick. But I’m not going to feel bad when there is absolutely nothing between us.
“She really liked you.” She says sadly.
She’s a good friend. I’ll give her that.
But she accepted my contract. She knew she was coming on a date with me.
Was she hoping I would apologise to her friend?
Or did she only want to punish me? I don’t understand what she was hoping to get out of this.
This is a problem I didn’t foresee. The longer it takes me to find my mate, the more dates I have to go on, and Omegas are loyal.
I was bound to piss off a few friends. I hope my mate doesn’t have the same issue.
All I can do is reassure them that I was searching for them the whole time.
It’s why I keep every date the same. Nothing says indifference like keeping to a script.
I stand, locking eyes with the chaperone one table over. With a nod, he makes his way over.
“I can’t apologise enough for making you and your friend uncomfortable. I didn’t mean any harm. I’m sure your friend was a wonderful date, and you have been too, but I am looking for my scent match, and both you and your friend can agree we are not.”
It’s the nicest thing I can muster before I get the fuck out of there.
My steps falter as a delicious, spicy scent hits me. I freeze, and my whole body goes on alert. My scent gland itches, and my canines ache. I scan my surroundings for the source of the smell, but the only Omega in here is the one I just abandoned.
Fuck.
Again.
This keeps happening.
Every date for the past month has a lingering scent of spice in the air, but I can never find them. A smile works its way onto my lips, and I fear that I might look as insane as I feel. Though it’s nothing compared to the first time I scented them.
The Omega keeps touching me, and I hate it. Would it be a bit dramatic if I cut off my own arm after this? It’s going to be the only way to get out the stench of her. Maybe I can convince Apollo to bite it off if I lather it in peanut butter. What a good dog.
I lean back in the chair and hope the millimetre of distance is enough to make her keep her hands to herself.
This isn’t an issue I have had before. On all my other dates, the disinterest has felt somewhat mutual.
At least mostly, some Omegas have been more interested than others, but I knew it was for superficial reasons.
My last name, the connections to my brothers, my money—but all of them have the same thing in common: they could not stand my scent.
At least none of them tried to touch me.
They laughed a little harder, smiled a little brighter and, not so subtly, hinted at meeting again.
“Do you enjoy school?” One question down, three to go.
“Oh, that’s a good question. But let me ask you one instead,” she leans forward, stretching over the table, I guess the millimetre did fuck all, and blinks rapidly at me. “What’s your favourite colour?”
“Green.” I answer without a second to think. I didn’t really think I had a favourite colour, but I guess I do.
I try to think, why green? But my brain spams my mind with images of soft moss, a lush green forest in seasonal transition, and it takes my breath away. I guess that’s why.
Hey the more you learn about yourself.
Her smirk dies. She wrinkles her nose and opens her eyes wide one last time before leaning back in her chair.
I guess she wanted me to say blue. Like her eyes.
But I have blue eyes, and I couldn’t give a shit about them.
Actually, they kind of give me the creeps.
Sometimes when I look into them, it feels like I’m looking into my brother’s eyes, and I forget it’s my face.
My first existential crisis. No wonder Dain gets all those tattoos.
I try to keep to my script, but she won’t follow it, and it’s pissing me off. This date has already lasted longer than I wanted, but every time I try to suggest we leave, she comes up with a new way to keep me here. I can’t keep up with her.
But finally the chaperone makes an appearance, and I practically leap out of my seat, putting him between us.
A cowardly move, definitely, but I have learnt from Omega Daisy and I am not getting trapped in a scandal because someone decided to kiss me.
What would my scent match think? I shiver at the thought.
“It has been lovely to meet you. Thank you for your time. You will make a wonderful mate to someone.” Someone, anyone but me. I try to emphasise that last point while slowly taking steps back.
“Are you not driving back with us?” Her smile is large and excited, and it couldn’t make me more terrified.
I shake my head and point toward the cafe kitchen.
“No, I’m going that way.” It makes no sense, but I don’t give her time to question me and walk through the door with the confidence only an Alpha can have.
I keep going until I spot an exit sign and slip through.
The air is brighter out here, freer. A frustrated growl bellows from low in my stomach, and my fists clench.
I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.
My breath lodges in my throat. Stars burst behind my eyes.
My whole world narrows to a single point in time, and it’s this one.
I tense, each of my muscles ripples, my stomach clenches, and my lungs threaten to burst. Finally, my breath comes, but with each ragged drag of air into my lungs, my heart races faster and faster.
Hair stands up on the back of my neck, and all of my senses sharpen.
Alert, and more aware than I have ever been, I force myself back into reality.
Spice hits me, my mouth waters, and it feels as if my canines sharpen, threatening to rip through whatever they can get to first.
Mate.
I knew then that they had found me. But just as quickly as they came, they left.
I’m used to the chase, the adrenaline spiking through my veins as I hunt my prey, and the satisfaction when I catch them, but I guess now I know what it feels like to be hunted.
I can feel their presence, their eyes tracking my every movement.
They’re trying to memorise the very essence of who I am.
I know when they aren’t here, because the void they were unknowingly filling gets bigger when they’re gone.
Or maybe Dain is right, and I’ve finally lost it.
Why don’t they come to me? Why are they watching? What are they waiting for?
Questions I’ve been left with for a month now, and I’m no closer to figuring them out.
The only constant I have is when they will show up.
At some point during a date, the scent will hit me.
At first, it was random. Or maybe it wasn’t, and I was too delirious to realise it.
But now, it’s like a reward when I step away from the date.
I should stop. It’s probably what they want, but that would mean going without their scent, and I can’t.
It’s the only time they come out and watch.
I need to incentivise them to get a little closer, to show themselves and give themselves to me. I need a plan.