“Why not?” I blink, confused.
“You’ll want to show off your curves.” She helps position me on the arm of the chair, placing my hands in my lap, then moving my feet so my legs are slightly bent and on full display. “Stick your chest out a bit.” She places her hand on the small of my back, making my body move the way she wants. “Okay.” She takes a step back, looking me up and down. “You’re perfect.” She beams.
I smile faintly. My body hums with warmth—maybe from the drugs, maybe from her praise. It’s stupid how good it feels.
Then her face turns serious again. “Now remember, if you find a pack you like?—”
“I don’t want a pack,” I whisper, sharper than I meant to. “Just one alpha.” Wait. I think that was a secret.
“Okay, sweetie.” She raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask why. “If you find one you like, encourage him to bid. Make eye contact. Lean forward a little. Smile.”
I nod, barely hearing her anymore.
Because all I’m thinking is: Find a single alpha. Charlie will do the rest.
I don’t know what “the rest” is. I probably should’ve asked. But my brain was full of glitter and syrup earlier when he explained it, and all I could do was nod and trust him.
I still do.
Even if the lights are melting a little now. Even if my hands feel far away from my arms. Even if my chest is tight with nerves, and my pulse is trying to fly out of my skin.
I’ll do this.
For Charlie.
Because we deserve to be together.
The stiff beta appears again, checking the lineup of girls one last time. She adjusts the angle of a few lamps, moves an omega’s chin slightly, then turns and opens the flap of the tent.
Several shadows move outside—tall, broad shapes. The scent of them floods the tent, musk and mint and pine, sharp and overwhelming.
I freeze.
But then I remember Charlie’s voice:“You’re okay. Just breathe.”
So I do.
And when the first alpha steps through the tent flap, I start looking.
One by one.
Focus, Autry.Find a single alpha. Get his number. Make Charlie proud.
The next few alphas filter in slowly—some are older, some young and cocky. Some make eye contact with me, then quickly look away, clearly unsure what to do with the girl parked like a decorative pillow on the edge of a chair.
That’s fine. I’m not looking for the most confident or the richest.
I’m looking for the most alone.
“Single alphas only,” I mutter under my breath like a chant. “Single. Alpha. Only.” The words taste like cotton candy in my mouth—sweet and stupid—but I keep repeating them anyway. They help keep me tethered.
My fingers twitch where they rest on my lap, itching to move. I want to reach back and feel Charlie’s hand in mine, or maybe grab the brochure and hold it up like a sign thatsays “No Pack? Come talk to me!” I chuckle softly at that thought, then straighten my shoulders.
This is not the academy, I remind myself. This is not a garden party. This is a strategy. One that ends with me, in Charlie’s arms, safe and owned and claimed.
I can do this.
Soft voices fill the tent as alphas move from one girl to the next. Two stroll past me, their eyes dragging across my body before drifting elsewhere. They don’t stop. They don’t even pretend to be interested.
