Chapter 20
Silver
I’m still confused and conflicted by the time the charity benefit rolls around, lost to my thoughts while I make myself presentable for a fancy bash for my Meemaw.
Sitting in my closet, the same one that still smells of the wild mint and rhubarb I’ve come to associate with my twin alphas, I apply my makeup while I continue to think about all that Munro told me. My eyeliner goes on with a smooth swipe, followed by mascara that darkens my eyelashes. I add a faint brush of blush on my cheeks and a swipe of a nude lip stain on my lips before deciding that my face looks suitable for a fancy charity ball.
As soon as I’ve put all of my makeup back in its rightful place, I check my cell once more, wondering not for the first time where all of pack Larsen have disappeared to.
Ever since the twins snuck out on me this morning, cautiously extracting themselves from me in order to tip-toe out of my nest while I watched with one bleary eye open, I haven’t heard a single peep from any of them. Even Aero has been as silent as the dead, and it has me both worried and a little bit anxious. Not that I should feel that way, since I told them all weeks ago that I’d be attending the benefit alone. I haven’t mentioned it to them since the day Munro made me cry, opting to tough out this shit-show alone. I don’t want to make things weird with the pack now that there’s something between us. Things are already weird and tense between Munro and me, I’ve barely seen Pace since the day in the library, and I have something too good with Aero, Haze, and Rage to inflict a night of hell on them.
Because that is what tonight will be, despite the event and its meaning. My mother could host an hour meet and greet with the purest-souled celebrities in the world, and it would still feel like I stepped into the Devil’s lair. Anywhere my mother and fathers are often turns into a hellish landscape of which there is no escape.
But it’s one night. One night to celebrate Meemaw and her accomplishments, to support all she’s doing for omegas, and showing her just how proud I am of her. It’s the least I can do after all she’s done for me. I want to repay the favor, show that woman how much she means to me. I mean, I can deal with one night for Meemaw, right? It’s nothing I haven’t handled before. I can tell all the packs my mother will try and flaunt in front of me that I’m gay or something. That’ll piss my mother off something fierce. Maybe tell them I’ve joined a hippie commune where we prefer to live out our lives in the nude, sitting around campfires eating leaves and mushrooms and smoking pot. That might get a few rumors spreading, and the image of my mother’s face turning tomato red has a funny, little smile appearing on my stained lips.
Yeah, I can do this. For Meemaw, and for me. I’m not going to let that bitch have any kind of power over me. I ran away to live my own life, so that’s what I’m going to be, no matter the shit she tries to pull tonight. I just have to get through a few hours and then I’ll be free of her once more. I’m not there to please them, not there to obey like the good, little omega they wanted me to be.
I’m my own person now. I’m an independent omega who makes her own money, doesn’t have to rely on their wealth and influence, and I certainly don’t have to deal with their shit anymore. They can’t touch me, even if they think otherwise.
Nodding to my reflection in the full-length mirror I’m sitting in front of, my makeup bag open on the floor in front of me, I take a deep breath and shake out the anxiety that’s been building since I woke up alone this morning.
I check my phone again, seeing no missed calls or texts, and frown. “Where the hell are you?”
I’m not sure why it’s bothering me so much that pack Larsen seem to have vanished into thin air, no sign or signal letting me know where they’ve disappeared to. It’s not like they owe me anything. They’re free to do as they please, especially since they’re no longer obligated to come to this nightmare with me. I guess it’s just my nerves or something. I’ve grown very spoilt over the past couple of weeks. I’m used to having the guys with me now, watching movies in our spare time, having them in the studio while I worked, eating dinner together every night. Despite Munro’s shocking delivery of words, even he’s joined us at every dinner, keeping his brooding silence while he awaits my answer. It almost feels like I’m a part of their pack, their family.
They always seem to be there now, so now that they’re not… I don’t know, it’s weird. It’s putting me more on edge than seeing my mother again is. I’m on pins, and I’m overthinking, especially with the sneaky way Haze and Rage left this morning, leaving me sated in bed with their scents coating every inch of my body.
Shaking my head, I take a cleansing sigh and shove it all out of my head. One night without them isn’t going to kill me. In fact, it might do me some good, because Aero isn’t the only one who grows attached quickly. I fear that ship has already sailed for me. I think it might have sailed pretty early on, only I refused to acknowledge or accept it. It’s hard not to do that when I’m being fucked to within an inch of my life every night, followed by so much pampering and caretaking that I know I’m falling for pack Larsen.
I wasn’t expecting it, but the first time Rage carried me into the shower while we were still joined, bathed me and made sure I was okay before drying me off and snuggling me between him and his brother, was an eye opener. When Aero brings me breakfast and plays with my hair while we talk in hushed tones in the mornings tattooed feelings to my heart. Haze’s constant checking in on me, like I truly am his omega and he’s my alpha, an ingrained piece of his psyche treating me like I’m his to care for, has been giving me a headrush for days, because I’m seeing just how caring and affectionate these men are. Even though he hasn’t been around much lately, Pace’s intense stares sear through me with every look, every twitch of his lip only I seem to get screwing with my head.
And now Munro has thrown his chips onto the table, I can see a change in him. He’s still grumpy and suffers with a serious case of shithead disease, but there’s less bite to it now. I catch him watching me with a softness he never displayed before. He jokes with Aero and smiles at me when he catches me watching. It’s disarming, sure, but it’s also warming something in my chest that I’m not ready to acknowledge.
They’re acting like a pack, my pack, and I’m struggling to accept that these are the same men who started off ignoring me, acting indifferent toward me, or actively tried to hate me.
Mind reeling all over again, I step toward the dress I bought the day Juno tried to kill me with a shopping spree, unzipping it and smiling. Where the little black dress my best friend picked out for me was nice, it didn’t suit me in the slightest. This dress, though? This dress is me.
The first spark of excitement finally breaks through the anxiety and tremulous thoughts that are plaguing me today, and I remove the dress from the hanger. With careful movements, I slip the dress on over the pretty, light-pink underwear I’ve donned for the evening, my lace bra almost invisible against my pale flesh.
As soon as the zipper is in place at my back, I adjust my breasts and meander to the floor-length mirror. I’m smiling at the reflection that looks back at me, my body encased in a gorgeous dress while my pale-blonde-and-pastel hair sits in rollers all over my head.
The dress, a bare-shouldered cocktail dress with draped sleeves that hang around my biceps and a poofy skirt that falls just above my knees, is the color of starlight. The sweetheart neckline corset is made of pale-silver lace and bone, revealing the tease of skin between my breasts and waist. From there, the lace falls in an overlay of the skirt that swooshes prettily when I twist. But the best part about the entire dress are the small pastel pink flowers that have been sewn all over the dress, forming a delicate pattern of color that starts from my right breast and ends at the hem of the left side of the skirt.
It’s the most Silver Gage-looking dress in existence, and I have no idea how I got lucky enough to find it.
Humming to myself and brushing my hand over the full skirt, I take one more look in the mirror before I start removing the rollers in my hair. It doesn’t take long before my blonde-and-pastel strands are falling over my shoulders in a homemade blow out that would make any hair stylist proud.
With just a little fluff and a respectable amount of hairspray, I fix my hair to perfection, years of practice coming to me with a wave of dread. I force back the memories of being forced to make myself presentable and perfect to my mother and the potential packs she would introduce me to, and focus instead on the expression on my mother’s face when she sees me. The colors are far from what she would have chosen for me in the past, usually opting for darker colors that contrast with my fair skin. I can just picture the irritated sneer she’ll have painted over her face now, and what a glorious sight it is.
Lips tugging up into a smile, I retrieve my strappy, five-inch heels before sitting on the ottoman by the island in the middle of the room. I place my feet into the gorgeous pale-pink heels, wrapping the straps up my leg until the crisscross patterns end with a bow just beneath my knees.
As soon as I’m done, I take a final check of my reflection in the mirror before nodding with approval. I retrieve my purse, a matching pink to my heels, and my cell, snapping a pic in the mirror and send it to Juniper before I leave the closet and my nest.
I’m dialing Juniper’s number as I meander down the empty hallway, the clacking of my heels echoing through the house.
“What’s up, buttercup?” Evron answers instead of my bestie, and I snort.
“Is my little thundercloud around? I sent her a picture of my dress and I want her opinion,” I answer, checking my purse and ensuring I have everything I need in there. Suppressant pills, ibuprofen, hand sanitizer, gloss, a packet of gum, the usual.
“She’s just getting out of the shower, but I am fully equipped to offer my unbiased and dude-like opinion if you want it,” Ev informs, and I can hear the grin in his voice.
Laughing, I decide fuck it. Pack Larsen aren’t here to offer me their opinions, so my best friend’s alpha will have to do. “Sure, go ahead. Tell me what you think.”
“Hold please,” the funny dude quips with a voice fit for a receptionist.
I wait for him to open the photo, and I’m grinning when his loud laughter breaks through the speaker phone. When he comes back, it’s with an amused tone that cheers me up. “Okay, so the dress is awesome. Very you. The middle finger seems out of place, though. I’d expect that from my omega, not you.”
“What can I say? I’m feeling some type of way,” I snicker, rounding a corner and heading down a different hallway that will lead me to the stairs.
“Because of your mom?” Ev wonders lightly, and I roll my eyes. Fucking Juniper and her gossiping ways.
“Because of the woman that birthed me and the men that played a part in that conceivement, yeah,” I answer since there’s no point lying about it, especially if my blabbermouth bestie already shared my tales of woe with her pack. “I’m high-key dreading this shit show, and I was hoping my darling best friend could talk me off the ledge. But it’s fine. You’re confirming that I’m funny was enough.”
“I didn’t do that,” Ev points out with a snicker.
“You laughed. That’s basically singing a declaration that I’m the funniest person you know,” I quip, making him laugh again and confirming my batshit logic. “Anway, tell your omega to give me a call later so I can divulge the hell I suffered. Get your popcorn ready, because I don’t doubt it’s going to be a messy night.”
Still chuckling, Ev agrees. “I’ll do that. Try to enjoy yourself, hon.”
I make a dismissive sound before we say our goodbyes and the call ends, just as I reach the top of the staircase and begin my descent. I’m so focused on putting one foot in front of the other, praying I don’t go tumbling down the stairs in heels that could break my neck with one bad ankle roll, that it takes me a moment to realize I’m not alone.
A low wolf whistle startles me enough that I grip the handrail of the stairs, my head snapping up quickly to accost the asswad that scared me while I’m trying to avoid death. Only, the moment my eyes snap up from the stairs, I still like a stone statue, my mouth falling open in shock while my heart stalls in my chest.
At the end of the stairs stand five men all dressed in perfectly-fitted tuxedos, each one looking as delicious as the last.
Pace is encased in an inky tux with a crisp, white shirt beneath his jacket, his slacks hugging his broad thighs and ending with a pair of glossy oxfords on his feet. His hair is styled to perfection, neatly pushed back in a faux hawk that doesn’t look absurd on him, and he flashes me a sexy smile as I run my gaze all over him like an addict getting her fix before moving on to the twins.
Haze and Rage are both in matching, three-piece gray tuxedos, their collars lined with black stitching and black shirts beneath their smart waistcoats. Their usually messy, coffee-colored hair has been styled artfully, their strands still somewhat of a mess, but an intentional one that makes them look as dashing as Pace. They’re both wearing killer smirks, though Haze’s expression holds more humor than his brother's intensely-heated gaze as they run their own eyes all over me.
Very much in the same way Aero runs his pale eyes along my body, starting from my strappy-heel-covered feet and makes his way up. I do the same to him, checking him out without shame. He’s wearing a shirt that looks a similar color to my dress, tucked beneath a baby-pink waistcoat with glittering silver stitching that creates an elaborate pattern all across the front panels. His pants are a matching pink, his hair is tied in a messy bun at the crown of his head with several strands escaping the tie and framing his face, and it looks like he’s trimmed and neatly styled his facial hair to polish the look off.
As shocked as I am, nothing could have floored me more than when my eyes fall on Munro, and I have to blink rapidly to double check I’m actually awake and seeing what my eyes are showing me. It seems utterly surreal to be looking at the devilishly handsome wearing all black, from his jacket and slacks, to his shirt tucked neatly beneath the waistband of his belted slacks. His shirt is open, the buttons undone down to the middle of his chest, showing off endless artwork of ink etched into his skin from the top of his neck all the way down to where it disappears beneath his clothing. Even his inky-black hair has been slicked back, revealing a tattoo along his hairline I didn’t even know he had. He looks like he just stepped out of a damned mafia book, his hands tucked in his pockets as he eyes me back with appreciation and heat, which has to be the most confusing part of all of this.
My mouth is practically touching the floor as I run my eyes all over them again, noticing how fucking hot they look. They’re all gorgeous, each of them walking Adonises put on this earth to appease the female gaze, but I’ll be damned if I’m not suddenly perfuming at the sight of them dressed smartly.
Despite my distraction, my eyes lap up the sight of five handsome men standing at the bottom of the stairs with smiles, grins, and anticipatory expressions, I have to wonder why. But why are they dressed smartly? And how the hell has Aero managed to dress in perfect synchrony to me?
“What’s going on?” I ask cautiously, taking another slow step down the stairs, followed by another, until I’m finally on the same level as them, still a head shorter than each of them in spite of the heels.
It’s Munro who answers, even as Aero takes my hands and draws me near, still eyeing me like I’m his favorite dessert he wants to take a bite out of. “We made you a promise, and we intend to stick to it.”
I frown. “You’re coming to the charity benefit? With me?”
Pace nods, his smile fading, replaced by the seriousness I’m used to seeing. “We had a deal, Tink. We’d live here rent free for six months if we accompanied you to the ball. I’ve been taking extra shifts at the swimming pool and hardware store when I’m not in school, earning some more cash to buy us all outfits. The money I would have given you for our share of the bills went toward outfits and a ride to this fancy party of yours.”
I can’t be entirely sure, but I think my heart melts right there beneath my rib cage, spilling onto the floor at their feet. My pulse is fluttering rapidly like the flap of a butterfly’s wings, my eyes grow warm with the sting of tears that threaten to spill down my cheeks, and I can’t help but drop my hand to my chest while I check if my heart is actually still in my chest or if I’ve somehow managed to give pieces of it away to the men before me without even realizing it.
“You bought your own tuxedos? And got us a ride? You’re coming with me?” I whisper, voice warbling with emotion that has me on the verge of a breakdown. I’m stunned. Truly stunned. I was okay going by myself, have been preparing myself for it since I woke up alone this morning, but now… Those sneaky bastards planned to go with me all along, and here they are, dressed to the nines, and willing to suffer through a night with my mother for me.
“Don’t you dare cry, Sunshine. You’ll ruin your pretty makeup,” Rage quickly warns, making me laugh with a hiccupped sound that sounds very close to a cry.
Looking up at the ceiling, I take a deep breath, willing my tears away while I try to wrangle my emotions back under lock and key. They all give me a moment, patiently waiting for me to get my shit together, their scents wrapping around me while I try to breathe through the onslaught of gooey feelings that fill me from head to toe.
By the time I’m sure I won’t start sobbing with gratitude, I shake my head and peer over each of them once more, stopping at Munro. He offers me a shy smile that seems a little awkward but hella adorable.
“You’re coming, too?” I confirm, still finding it hard to believe that he wants me, that he’s wanted me for a while now, but simply disguised his feelings as an act of self-preservation.
He shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek before he confesses, “Figured the more of us there, the better. We all agreed your mother would shit a brick if I showed up with you, so if you’re still willing to tolerate me for the evening, I’d really love to go piss off this woman for the night with you.”
I’m already nodding, my relief and appreciation currently stronger than the anger I’m harboring toward the beta. The fact that he’s put on a fancy suit, groomed himself to play the part of doting pack mate to get under my mother’s skin, it’s enough that I can put my feelings aside and accept the help he’s willing to give.
When his shy smile turns a little wicked, I shiver and hold my breath before he says, “Glad you’re accepting, because if you recall, a part of the deal was you accepting a dance with me. We wouldn’t want you going back on your word, right?”
I’m shaking my head, almost as if I’m in a daze, and I vaguely hear the others laughing at my shocked state. It’s enough to break me out of it, enough to take a deep breath and steady myself and say, “Alright then. Let's go party with rich people, eat some fancy food, and watch my mother’s head explode when she catches sight of the mafia don of the pack.”
The guys all laugh, warming me from the inside out, and I’m accepting Aero’s arm and allowing him to guide me outside as though I’m floating on air. I float right into a black, glossy limousine, barely able to comprehend how I got here, seated between Munro and Aero. All the while, I can’t help but notice how my feelings are expanding for pack Larsen. And it doesn’t escape my notice how Munro has managed to wriggle his way back under my defenses with a single act of kindness that warms me more to him than any of his words could have.