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Colour, scent, and sound all blurred as I began toward them, faster and faster, until I barely noticed I was running. The ballroom around me vanished: all the snow-white tablecloths, the beautiful gowns, the echoing clinks of glassware and chatter, now a mere blur.
A daring smile surfaced, unfamiliar muscles flirting with the corners of my lips as I ducked through the crowd. Through the throng of omegas who not only dressed better, spoke better, acted better—and were actually able to walk in heels. I’d tried (and failed) to balance in heels while dressing in my dorm this morning.
And none of it mattered as I reached them, breathless. The hair I’d warred to tame was already tumbling from my bun, spilling around my pinkcheeks in misbehaved feathers as I caught my weight on the back of the single open seat at their table.
The seat set aside for the omega they would claim tonight.
The seat set aside for me.
Their scents filled my lungs with each heaving inhale, burning and beautiful in the surrounding air: passionfruit; sesame seeds and sunflowers; coconut and plum.
Mine.
They were it: my mates, with aromas fresh, sweet and intoxicating, flooding from lungs to veins and setting nerves on edge, as if every inch of my body was pricked by a thousand fireflies.
Eric, Gareth, and Flynn looked up at me in surprise, each as captivating as I remembered them to be.
I couldn’t move.
After all this time, battling through a world I didn’t fit into, I’d made it to them once more. My scent blockers were gone at last. They would see me for who I was.
I could be me.
And I couldn’t move as nerves scored my system, turning me to stone.
I tried and failed to open my mouth desperately. To say anything.
With them, I could be an omega at last, no longer having to bury my spirit under six feet of soil. I could betheiromega, in a pack where my instincts were right for once. Where I would have a true place. Where I could claim them and be claimed, and I could take care of them. I would find myself at last—to take back what was stolen.
In a pack, where my scent waswanted.
It was everything I’d been told I could never have.
A strange silence stretched until finally Flynn spoke. “Can we help you?”
He was pack lead, with sleek black hair and an air of wealth in his poise that the other two couldn’t quite match.
Something was wrong. A frown knotted his raven brow, disturbing his flawless, rich-brown skin.
For him, the world hadn’t come to a halt…
I managed to open my mouth, but my throat went dry, and nothing came out.
“I thought this event was omegas only.” That was Gareth, and he gave me an odd look. He was the largest of them, with a sweep of blond hair and a dazzling smile I’d seen yesterday when I’d snuck by them. He wasn’t offering me that smile right now, not like I’d expected. “This isn’t some beta press event.”
Beta?
“I’m … not…” I tried, as if my choked words could unscramble my brain. I couldn’t catch my own scent, but how… how couldtheynot, either?
The sound of the same shiny black pointed shoes Uncle had always worn clipped upon marble behind me, and I caught a new scent in the air: something as dangerous as it was captivating, even in the face of my mates.
Midnight opium.
It hinted at florals, of pale petals and a trace of vanilla. The more dominant shades were of deep amber and roasted coffee. And then there was the last part, the piece I couldn’t place, and yet seemed all too familiar.
I knew who it was before I turned because there was only one alpha I’d ever met who could possibly have a scent like that. And last night, he’d been masking it.
“Shatter.” His voice was cool, liquid silk filling my ears, his aroma overpowering all of my mates’. A hand brushed my waist. “Wrong table.”
