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I should have claimed I was a gamma.
“Listen, I’m just trying to keep my job here,” he pleads, raising his hands and drawing the attention of a few nearby alphas. I don’t want that kind of attention.
“Got ya,” I chirp, a note of gratitude in my voice. “Thanks anyway.” I back away, but before I can turn around, I collide with a solid chest. I literally bounce backward, but muscular arms catch me in a firm yet gentle hold.
“Whoa, are you alright?” a deep voice inquires, steadying me. Even from one touch alone, I can tell this man is an alpha. There’s power in his presence that’s undeniable.
“I’m good, I’m good,” I reply, exhaling and looking up into a handsome face. Blue eyes gaze down at me, and the alpha smiles. Fortunately, I can’t scent him, and he can’t smell me. “Thanks for catching me.”
I try to move away, but he holds me still, making me acutely aware of his proximity. This is the problem with alphas, they often lack an understanding of physical and personal boundaries.
“Are you alright?” he asks again, his voice low and concerned. His warm eyes hold a hint of something wild, something I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s unsettling.
“Great, I’m so sorry for bumping into you,” I mutter, licking my lips, a less than ideal choice as it brings me closer to the lingering pheromones in the air. They float around like invisible dust motes, reminding me of the secrets this place holds.
“I’m not mad at all,” he assures me even though I didn’t even ask him, his boyish charm slightly intriguing yet off, almost as though he is trying too hard. “I’m...” He pauses momentarily, his hesitation noticeable. “Dave. Call me Dave.”
“Alright,” I respond, drawing out the word as I blink up at him. “Seraphina.” I break free from his grasp, my eyes now locked on the hallway I initially intended to explore.
“Dance with me,” he requests, jutting his chin forward, his smile concealing a mysterious secret that I can’t quite decipher. It’s difficult to read him, especially with the lingering effects of the scent suppressants. I can’t tell if we’re a match or if he’s genuinely interested in me. All I know is that he sets me on edge, and something about him doesn’t sit right.
“Here.” I reach inside my purse and retrieve my dance card. I mark off the first two slots since they’ve already passed and quickly scribble Violet’s name into the next hour, then hand it over to Dave.
To my surprise, the alpha takes the card and adds his name across two slots before handing it back to me. “I’ll see you soon, Seraphina,” he says, his voice warm but his eyes intense. As he reaches for my hand, I expect a simple gesture of politeness like before, such as a kiss on my knuckles, but this time, he does more. He runs my knuckles down his neck to his scent glands, a strangely intimate action that sends a shiver down my spine—and not in a good way.
I can’t hide the snarl of irritation that escapes me. I quickly plaster on a polite smile and carefully walk away, mindful not to provoke any instincts that might compel him to follow me. Dave is intriguing, but something about him unsettles me, a vague sense of foreboding that lingers in the air as I make my escape.
Passing by the grand staircase, I resist the urge to bring my hand to my nose for a quick sniff as I make my way down the opposite corridor, heading straight for the kitchen. As I push through the double doors, I pay no heed to the scathing looks from the gamma staff and make my way to the second kitchen, just a bit farther down the hallway—one for the students, and one for the staff, a sensible arrangement.
The second kitchen offers a much needed respite from the bustling crowd, and I make a beeline for the sink. Without hesitation, I flip on the faucet, and the cool water rushes out, providing soothing comfort.
“Rotten alpha and their rotten scent glands,” I mutter through clenched teeth, frustration seeping through my words. “I hope he trips over himself and falls flat on his stupid face.” My hands are a blur as I scrub my skin, anger and irritation pouring into each motion.
I continue to scrub until my hands feel raw, as though they might bleed, but I don’t stop. “How dare he mark me like a caveman,” I seethe, my anger giving me the strength to keep going. “Micro dick energy.”
My rant serves as a release valve for the frustration and discomfort that Dave’s unexpected gesture stirred within me. With each word, I feel a bit more in control, a bit more like myself.
“I always enjoyed your colorful mouth,” a voice I know all too well whispers close to me. It sends a shiver racing up and down my spine as the body associated with that voice presses firmly against my back. “I knew I’d find you in here.”
I freeze, my heart hammering in my chest as I swallow down a swirl of emotions—emotions I can’t even dare to name right now.
Strong arms reach around me, and skilled hands gently set two spoons and a small container of ice cream on the counter, then he shuts off the water.
I brace my hands on the kitchen sink, my body already melting in response to his presence. Avery Griffin presses himself closer to me, pinning me between the sink and his muscular body. It’s a familiar feeling, and my senses ignite. I know him, his touch, and his scent, which I hate that I can’t fully perceive right now, but my memory fills in the gaps—cinnamon buns. I resist the urge to moan and instead glance at the ice cream.
A laugh bursts free as I reach for the small quart. “Vanilla cinnamon swirl,” I say, looking over my shoulder at him. “You remembered.”
“Did you think I’d forget?” he murmurs, burying his nose in my neck. “I miss your scent,” he whispers, his breath sending shivers down my spine. He slowly inhales, sending goosebumps racing across my shoulders.
I close my eyes, a mixture of emotions welling inside me. I want to say it was only one night, but it wasn’t. Avery is the reason I stayed for so long, and also the reason I eventually left. I knew he and his pack would put in a bid for me, even though I only ever met him and his twin.
I want to say I never let him touch me like this, that I left here untouched, saving myself for a pack that would claim me, but the truth is I gave all of that away to the man holding me close.
I push back gently, turning around to see his face. He’s just as breathtaking as he always was, just as devastating. “Hey, you,” I say, holding the ice cream to my chest like a barrier between us.
“You finally showed up,” he says, snatching the ice cream from my hand and popping open the lid. He backs away and hops up onto the kitchen island, wiggling his fingers for the spoons.
I grab the spoons and choose to stand, not wanting to ruin my dress by attempting to sit on the counter. I wait until he takes a scoop of ice cream and hands the quart back before I dig in myself.
