Chapter 5
Ariana
Liam’s hands tighten around my shoulders, pressing down on them.
“So, babe. How do you know them?” He asks, moving his fingers over my jaw and neck, bending my face up to look at him.
My mouth is dry. I lick my lips, nervous. Despite how brief my interaction with the Coates pack was, they won’t appreciate a group of men knowing me. I’ll have to navigate this carefully in order to not anger them.
“I mean, it’s just like they said. Their dog was running away and I grabbed it.”
Liam stares down at me, studying my face for a trace of dishonesty. “What do you think?” He doesn’t direct the question at me, but at the man in front of us. He holds my head up so I can’t see Ian.
My pack lead doesn’t respond right away. I can feel him getting closer, the two tall men caging me in between their bodies. I whimper, my neck starting to cramp from being held in such an uncomfortable position.
Ian places a hand on my waist, rubbing his thumb against me. His whiskey scent is blank. I hate when he does this, forces his scent devoid of any emotion. I don’t voice that displeasure. My goal tonight is still to be perfect, show them they don’t need another.
None of us speak. We stand, Liam and Ian’s hands pressing into me, their bodies towering over mine and caging me in. Cole watches the three of us, waiting to see who will break the silence first.
It’s Ian. It’s usually Ian. This time is different though, since he doesn’t break it with words. He purrs. My stoic, strict alpha purrs for me. I push myself forward, eager to feel the rumble coming from his chest.
“You did great tonight,” he praises me and I almost swoon where I stand. I needed this after this morning.
Liam presses into me from behind, joining in on Ian’s purring. Sandwiched between them, the warmth from their bodies rushes into me.
“Do you think they owe us a favor now? Since she helped them with the dog?” Liam’s voice holds barely contained excitement as his hands begin to wander down my body.
“It’s an angle we could use,” Ian agrees. His scent comes to life, no longer maintaining his neutral facade. It slams into me at once, the eagerness in it traveling across our bond and seeping into me.
It does flash in my mind that trying to pull money out of someone just because I took one step to stop their dog running away seems wrong. I’m not even technically involved with Viewer.
“It’s all thanks to Ariana,” Cole’s tone is soft as usual, but full of acknowledgment. The dog slips out of my thoughts, giving way to satisfaction. My pack is proud of me.
Their jubilation is infectious. They’re pleased with me. Showering me with compliments, they lead me to my bedroom. I soak them in, satisfaction taking the place of my disgruntlement at this morning’s announcement.
It feels like I’ve succeeded, gotten a small victory. We’ll laugh about the time they suggested a second omega later, saying it was a foolish mistake later.
* * *
It feels like I should go buy white face paint and a brighter red lipstick. Apparently, the circus is in town. And I’m its biggest clown.
I’ve always thought I’d won in life, because I had such an amazing pack. I never thought I’d be trying to win against my pack. The goal was to convince them I’m all they need, to prevent another omega from entering the house.
Instead, I wake up to their assistants running around the apartment, preparing a room for the new occupant. They glance at me from time to time. Some with pity, others with fascination, as if trying to gauge my reaction.
I wonder if they talk about me. Am I the latest water cooler gossip? It’s certainly novel. You don’t see many packs with two omegas. You don’t see packs unsatisfied with their scent match omega.
There’s that pessimism again. I wearily mentally reprimand myself, but my heart’s not in it. I’m tired. I don’t do anything particularly exhausting all day, but there’s a fatigue inside of me that won’t go away no matter how much I sleep.
They said they weren’t unsatisfied with me. Haven’t I listened to them, done everything I’m supposed to? They even said they were proud of me yesterday. I should believe them when they say it’s not about me. It’s about status.
Do all alphas love status so much? A loneliness sinks into my body, stronger than the one that normally does when my pack leaves the house. I think it’s the type of thing you ask your friends. I wish I had some to consult.
My parents definitely weren’t like that. They seemed happy as long as they were with my mom. Some might say their pack is unconventional, though. One of my dads is a beta.
My mother in law’s scoffed at that before. Like his mother, Ian’s had commentary on packs with betas before. He says it defies the natural order.
I don’t understand much about the natural order. I do understand my parents are undeniably happy. I wish I had a love like that.
I do have a love like that. I’m happy. I’m well taken care of.
I feel like I’m playing two truths and a lie.
My pack’s assistants tend not to talk to me whenever they stop by. I’ve tried to make conversation with them before, but they always make an excuse and scurry away. I asked Cole about it once, but he just said they’re busy.
The cynical part of me thinks it seems like they were told not to talk to me. I’m not sure what that would achieve, though. It’s just a foolish thought, from a foolish omega. We’re sensitive people, after all.
Sensitive and foolish enough to stand in the hallway and watch as the guest bedroom slowly gets fitted with blankets and pillows.
I guess they prepared my bedroom this way when I arrived too.
I don’t know why, but it never occurred to me until now that my alphas might not have prepared it for me themselves.
That’s not the part that hurts. It happened ten years ago, after all. I can let that go.
What stings is witnessing the beginning before my world gets turned upside down and not being able to change it. I just have to wait as it happens. At the same time, I can’t look away as the beta women my pack employs walk in and out of the room.
I can’t be angry at the omega coming. I don’t know what her life was like. Maybe she had a situation so bad it led her to viewing our pack as an escape, even if she would have to compete with another omega.
Surely she knows the pack will naturally favor me as their scent match. I wonder if she’ll be okay with that. Will she be mad at them for it?
I want to be mad at them too. For putting the both of us in this situation. It’s hard to be when Ian can bark me onto my knees until it disappears from my scent and the bond still hums in my chest, making me anxious for their approval.
I can’t curse them anymore than I can blame her. But where can all my anger go, then? Yourself, the voice in the back of my head suggests, clear and concise.
Throughout the week, I float between states of rage, sorrow, and even desperation. Then they all disappear, give way back to the same fatigue I’ve become used to.
I drift through the apartment like a ghost, fingers lightly tracing the walls as I slowly walk from room to room. I know this place like the back of my hand, every creak in the floor or scratch on the paint. In my flurries of emotion, I perfume every inch of the house.
It’s a matter of instinct, unintentional. I just want to remember this place before everything changes. When I turn around and am hit with the strength of my scent coating the walls, I’m not even satisfied or pleased with my work.
Instead, I feel like more of a dog than ever. I think I’ve just committed the omega equivalent of peeing to claim my territory. I’m not sure whether to laugh or feel ashamed. I do neither.
I don’t do anything, because I can’t change anything. My pack members have made up their minds, and I can’t fight or walk away from their decision. Our bond is a leash as much as it is a ribbon.
Ian lifts an eyebrow the first day he comes home to the overpowering fragrance, studying my face as if he’s searching for something. Whatever he finds in it, it doesn’t make him reprimand me.
The other two follow his suit, refraining from commenting. It would be impossible for them not to notice, but they don’t voice it. They cozy up to me, seemingly having made some pact of comforting me I wasn’t privy to.
One last hurrah before everything changes? Guilt? An attempt to alleviate the scent before the new omega arrives?
I don’t know what it is. I don’t ask. Despite my fatigue, I still play my part, ever the dutiful omega.
I act sweet and crawl over to Liam when he asks me to, his attempt at trying to change the emotions in the aroma with something else.
I don’t pull away when Cole pulls me onto his lap and cuddles me, purring.
I sink into the soft bed next to Ian, nestling into his side until I fall asleep. I’m downright pampered Monday night.
When they return from work laden with roses the next day, my perfume has only gotten stronger.
It hangs over us, taking space at the dinner table and making itself known.
The scent of chamomile flowers becomes an ever lingering presence, haunting the apartment and growing denser as her arrival draws closer.
It just has to be on a Sunday. That’s normally my favorite day of the week, my one day with my pack. Instead, it’s soured by the pit of dread in my stomach.
My fragrance is thick, but not thick enough to mask that of my alphas.
Liam, Cole and I sit on the couch, waiting for Ian to return with the new addition to the pack.
They try to hide it, but I’ve known them my entire adult life.
There’s an anticipation woven into their scents, an excitement their calm demeanors don’t conceal.
“Ariana,” Cole starts.
“Don’t.” I respond dryly.
“Babe,” Liam’s leg bounces, making my cushion on the couch shake too, “you’re still our number one girl. You know that, babe.”
“You used to call me your only girl.”