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My heart twinges at her honest words. I really did love working at the bookstore, but it was too hard to manage hiding my Omega status in a place that was so easily accessible. I never knew who was going to be around at any moment, even if it’s a place where Alphas don’t usually hang out. They prefer fancier locations, or places where they can show off their physicality, like gyms or bars or pool halls. “How is it going here? Is the shop doing okay?”
“Same old, same old. Customers still like to take books off the shelves and put them in the wrong spot. Teenagers come in and read the manga and leave them on the floor without paying for them. The usual.” She narrows her bright blue eyes at me. “What about you? How’s the ghostwriting world? Any best sellers under your belt?”
“It’s going very well, actually. I’ve built up a lot of repeat clients, and I’ve been able to raise my rates. Besides, I get to spend my days writing about happy endings. What’s better than that?”
“There’s tons in life better than that, girl. You need to take the next step and writeforyourself.Get your name out there. Write what you want instead of just what sells for your clients, you know?”
I do know, but I really don’t want to have this talk again. The truth is that I’m just not ready to write for myself yet. I have nothing worth saying. My clients give me very detailed storyboards and character maps andideas. They have those because they live actual lives instead of being trapped in a square box fifteen stories off the ground ninety eight percent of the time.
I’ve always loved to write. I’m just grateful I get to make money doing something I love, even if it’s not entirely for myself.
Caroline pulls a wrinkled dust rag from her apron and wipes down shelves that are already spotless from when she probably dusted an hour ago. “I mean, the happy little Omega in the happy little Pack, making happy little babies… or the Beta who finds his or her way into a pack of loving Alphas–which are the exceptions, not the rule.”
I roll my eyes.
“Come on, Rile, even you have to admit it’s all corny fantasy. And if it’s not that, it’s forbidden romances between Betas and Omegas, or Betas and Alphas, or Alphas and Alphas. Sure, they happen, but it sets up unrealistic expectations. You and I are both going to end up with another Beta, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
When I wince at her judgmental words and look away, Caroline realizes what she said and hangs her head with a sigh. “I’m sorry, Riley. That was rude of me. I didn’t mean that what you’re writing isn’t good, it’s just… I don’t know. It’d be nice to see somethingrealon the bestseller lists for once, you know?”
I lift a shoulder, not wanting to go any deeper into this argument. “It’s fine, Care. I get what you’re saying, sometimes I do want to write something a little more real. A little more raw. It isn’t like you have a particularly unique opinion about the genre. A lot of people don’t take romance stories seriously. But it’s the type of book that sells well with my clients. Reading is an escape from the mundane. It doesn’t have to be realistic; it just has to make the reader feel something.”
“You’re so right,” Caroline says, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I blame my shitty attitude on it being that time of the month.”
She gives me a conspiratorial look, not knowing that I have never and will never have a period like she and every other Beta gets.
I dig around in my purse, finding the fancy chocolate bar with freeze dried raspberry pieces dotted on top, and hand it to her. “Here,” I say. “I swear chocolate makes everything better.”
Caroline makes an adorable snorting noise and takes the chocolate with a smile. “You’re my hero,” she says, tearing it open to take a bite directly from the bar like some sort of savage. “What project are you working on now?”
Before I can give her a generic, non-NDA-breaking update on my current projects, a harried mother and three boisterous children come in through the shop door. I wave Caroline on so she can greet her new customers and head over to the romance section of the bookstore. I love going through the shelves to try and find any books I’ve ghostwritten. Even though my name isn’t anywhere on the cover, I like to buy them for my own collection, displaying them on the shelves like trophies. I like to know that something I wrote made someone else happy. It’s one of the best rushes I’ve experienced.
After searching through a few shelves, I come upon an old historical romance that I wrote, one based on the fairy tale ofBeauty and the Beast.In the book, a brave young Omega trades her own freedom for her father’s and goes to live with a reclusive, scarred, moody Alpha. As always, she wins over his grumpy heart, and they fall madly in love and experience the all-important happily ever after. It was one of my favorite projects, and I’ve never seen it in print in the store before. I tuck it under my arm, and crouch down to sift through the lower shelves, looking for more treasures.
The sound of slow footsteps in the aisle, muffled by the thin brown carpet, startles me enough that I nearly topple back off my heels. When I look up to find the source, a tall Alpha perusing the science fiction section, his full mouth twisted in concentration, my lips part in surprise. He has an arm full of books and seems to be picking out yet another novel to add to the heavy load.
I picked this bookstore to work in when I first came to town because Alphas weren’t their usual clientele. It was easy enough to busy myself in the back room and let Care handle them whenever one did come in, but it was so rare that I could be at ease pretty much all the time.
My heart begins to beat faster, and my throat tightens as if I’m choking on the air around me. I don’t want him to see me, but I can’t try and hide from him either. That would be even more suspicious. I take a deep breath to fight the anxiety that drapes over me like a suffocating cloak. Focusing on the multi-colored spines of the paperback books on the lower shelf, I say each title aloud in my head slowly to keep my focus anywhere but on the threat just a few feet away.
The Alpha’s footsteps get closer and louder until it would be weird if I didn’t at least give a friendly nod or something.
I twist my head up to look at him, my throat dry.
The Alpha gives me a strange look, his nose wrinkled in confusion. I bite down hard on my lip until it hurts. He must’ve caught my scent. The suppressants haven’t fully kicked in yet and the blockers didn’t work, and this is it. I’m going to be found out. Either this Alpha is going to claim me right here and now or he’ll turn me over to the authorities and I’ll never go home again. I’ll be paired off with a pack against my will. One of the worst kinds. And they’ll…
Oh god.
I should run but I can’t move.
But instead of growling at me or coming on to me, he simply asks, “Are you comfortable down there?” in a soft, teasing tone.
For a second, I don’t register his words, blinking up at him like a baby owl. Then I realize what exactly he has asked, and I jump up from my awkward crouch on the floor, nearly knocking over a display of Choose Your Own Adventure books. His expression is too neutral to be reacting to my natural scent. If he were picking up on it, he’d be all over me, trying to mark me as his own and posturing for all Alphas in the area to see. Unless he’s already bonded, but I don’t see any markings over his collarbone or up the sides of his neck.
“Just getting a better look at the lower shelves,” I mumble, stepping out of the way for him to pass by.
He doesn’t.
He smiles at me, a friendly smile with no apparent ulterior motive. I try to make my heart calm down, though I don’t relax completely. Even the kindest Alpha is still a predator. “I get it. I used to hang out in bookstores as a kid, sprawled out on the floor with a dozen books piled around me. It doesn’t work so well now that I’m much taller. I don’t fit in the aisles as well.” He winks at me, and my heart begins to beat for a completely different reason than fear.
