Chapter 3
Ariana
The apartment is quiet when I get back.
Quiet, but not necessarily empty. I can smell my pack clearly. Their whiskey, sage and apples scents are strong, too strong for them not to be here. I instinctively breathe them in, taking a deep inhale. Their fragrances settle in my chest, reminding me I’m home.
They don’t rush to the elevator the way I do when they return.
Too busy preparing materials for the investors coming over today, if I had to guess.
I don’t check for confirmation as I pass their doors in the hallway.
Instead, I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead and storm towards my bedroom, slamming both its door and the door to its walk-in closet for good measure.
The umbrella is still clutched in my hand, making my knuckles turn white. I hadn’t realized I was gripping it so tight. I throw it toward a corner, harder than necessary. It clatters against the wall and falls to the floor, but remains intact.
It didn’t do anything to offend me. Everything else in here is just too expensive to take my anger out on.
A combination of guilt and shame flood through me.
I shouldn’t have accepted the umbrella. If it had started raining too hard, my pack would have wanted me to call them to pick me up, not take something from another alpha.
I yank open one of the many drawers in my closet, grabbing undergarments at random without looking at them. My hand pulls back gripping lace and silk, delicate pieces that are more flattering than they are comfortable. I don’t lock the bathroom door behind me when I sulk inside it.
I’ve never locked it, not once in the last nine years. It’s always been an open invitation. Come join me. I’m here. I’m yours. My pack likes that I leave it unlocked. Ian mentioned it once, early on. Said he appreciated that I understood I didn’t need privacy from them.
The water scalds when I first turn it on, and I don’t adjust it right away. Instead, I stand under the stream with my eyes closed, bowing my head and slumping my shoulders. It’s been a long day.
Has it? I question myself. I didn’t really do anything besides eat breakfast and then wander aimlessly for a couple of hours.
It’s been full of excitement, I suppose. I don’t get that often. I used to think I might die of boredom. Now, I think I never want excitement again. Not when it’s like this morning’s announcement.
Although that wasn’t the only excitement of the day.
A smile tugs at my lips, remembering a flash of white fur running through the park, its tongue out and leash trailing behind it.
The dog’s entire body had been shaking with how hard it was wagging its tail.
I wonder how long it’s been since I felt that free.
When I finally lift my head, my eyes open and drift to the bathroom door, where the doorknob sits unmoving. Any second now, one of my alphas will walk in.
Liam most likely, with an easy smile and wandering hands, sliding into the shower behind me. Or Cole, gently asking if I need any help. Even Ian sometimes, rare but not unheard of, standing against the doorway and watching me before he joins.
The water pounds against my shoulders as I wait. Steam starts to fill the air, clouding over the glass. I wipe the fog off with one hand, watching and anticipating.
The door doesn’t open.
A sigh slips from me as I slump my shoulders again but reach for the shampoo bottle. I take my time washing my hair, working the expensive formula through the blonde strands. Liam’s preference. He’d mentioned it casually one night years ago, how he’d always liked blondes.
The appointment had been made for me by the time I’d woken up the next day. He’d been so pleased seeing it, pulling me into his lap and running his fingers through it for hours.
I condition the hair he loves so much, letting it sit as I turn my attention to my body.
I wash the rest of myself with a lavender soap Cole picked out for me after reading somewhere that lavender was calming for omegas.
I can’t say I’ve ever felt any calmer from it, but he seems to like it, so I keep using it.
When I finally turn off the water, my fingers are pruned and the bathroom is thick with steam. I wrap myself in a towel and settle in front of the mirror, staring at myself.
The reflection looking back is almost unrecognizable.
I used to be covered in dirt, all the time.
I was always outside, getting into one bit of trouble or another with my friends.
Dirt, mud and grass used to stain my clothes and skin, or my hair would be in one big knot from helping one of my dads in the garage.
My mom used to joke that I was half feral.
The woman in the mirror doesn’t look like she would know what being feral would even mean. I’ve been refined and polished over the last ten years. The traces of that young girl are gone, replaced by the image of the perfect omega.
I lean closer, examining my appearance with the critical eye I’ve learned to turn on myself. My face is thinner than it used to be. My cheeks have long lost their roundness, stripped of all their baby fat and then some.
I’m skinnier than I’ve ever been, even when I was living off a budget of thoughts and prayers. When I drop the towel, I can see the shadows of my ribs. As my pack says, I’ve become elegant now.
Not everything about me has gotten smaller. My hair hangs wet and dark against my shoulders, almost reaching my hips. It had been Ian’s suggestion to grow it out, another step towards becoming the refined omega I am today.
I’ll need to touch it up soon, my natural brown is starting to peek through the blonde. Liam will notice if I don’t. He always points it out. Your roots are showing, babe. Should probably take care of that. He pays such close attention to me. It’s sweet.
Blow drying my hair until it’s smooth and shining makes my arms ache from its length, but I don’t have time to rest. I have to start on my makeup. I’m well practiced at this now.
Somewhere along the way, I even began to like it. I used to hate the feeling of anything on my face, even lotion. Once I’d noticed the compliments my pack gave me while wearing it, putting it on naturally became part of my day.
I put extra time and care into it today, though. I carve lines of contour along my long nose and blend them with my fingers, making it look shorter. I do the same to my forehead and draw on actual eyebrows over the sparse wisps I have on my face.
I’m not getting ready slowly because I want to delay facing them. There’s nothing I want more than to be around my pack. I’m getting ready slowly because the state of the pack’s omega reflects the alphas.
They’ve told me that more times than I can count. When I look good, they look good. When I’m polished and perfect, it shows that they take care of me, that they’re successful enough to provide for me. We all have to play our part, and being beautiful is part of mine.
I pull open the door and return to the walk in closet, running my hands over the clothes. They brush over designer labels I’d never even heard of until I met my alphas, dresses that cost thousands of dollars. All gifts from my pack, carefully chosen to suit me.
The investors tonight must be important. Liam’s been dying to have me in this black dress for weeks, but there hasn’t been an occasion. The fabric scratches and the waist is cinched uncomfortably tight, but I can’t deny it’s stunning.
From its square neckline to the bottom brushing the floor, the black dress accentuates every curve.
My pack will love it. I add the jewelry they gave me for our last bonding anniversary, diamond earrings with a necklace to match.
I absentmindedly twirl the gold rings on my fingers as I give my reflection another check.
The woman looking back at me in the mirror is gorgeous. Long blonde hair, perfect makeup, a designer dress, expensive jewelry. Thin enough to see my ribs but not thin enough to look sick. The perfect accessory on an alpha’s arm.
But not perfect enough, a small voice in the back of my head reminds me.
If I was the perfect omega, I would be happy for them. For us. Our pack is so successful, we’ve been approved for two omegas. It’s rare. It’s a sign of status. It shows how far we’ve come.
It makes me want to puke.
Again, almost ten years later, it all roots back to one thing. I just have to try harder. I’ve put special care into my appearance tonight. I’ll apologize for leaving, for walking out of breakfast. I’ll make them remember how they felt when our scents aligned ten years ago.
If I show them that I’m still everything they need, maybe they won’t bring home a second omega. You only get one set of scent matches, after all. Our love is supposed to be special.
I pause in smoothing down my dress, hands resting over my abdomen instead.
The bond hums in my chest, a constant reminder of our connection.
Maybe I can’t be the perfect omega. Just thinking about sharing them makes my stomach twist all over again.
But perfect or not, I’m still theirs. I have been for ten years. That has to mean something.
I’ll prove it to them tonight. I lean into the mirror, lifting the corners of my mouth. I practice smiling with my lips together, then again while showing my teeth. I rehearse laughing, nodding and shaking my head demurely.
Tonight, I’ll be flawless. Remind them we were meant to be.