“So,” he says, drawing me closer. His scent is overpowering and not in a good way. I’m starting to get a headache. “How do you feel about plastic surgery?”
My brow furrows. “Uh, I mean I think it’s fine. People should be happy with how they look and feel.”
He nods. “Good, that’s good. There isn’t much I would change, honestly. Maybe just your nose and a little lipo.”
Is this alpha serious? “Sorry, you’re suggesting thatIget plastic surgery?”
“Well, not until we’ve mated, but yes. Also, I’m more partial to blondes.”
“Then why are you dancing with me?” I ask, shaking my head.
“Omegas can be molded,” he says with a shrug. “I can make you in my image, turn you into the perfect omega.”
Bitterness sweeps through me. This. This is what my mother talks about. How I’m not good enough and how a pack won’t want me, but now I know she’s wrong. I have a pack with zero aims toturn me into the perfect omega. I drop his hand as soon as the song ends and step back. “Good luck finding an omega.”
His mouth parts, but I turn and stride off the dancefloor before he gets a chance to reply. My mother catches up to me, smiling pleasantly at people as we pass. The vicious set of her teeth tells me she’s not happy.
“What happened? Why did he look mad?”
“Oh, I don’t know, mother. Maybe because I wasn’t willing to get lipo to make him happy.”
She releases an exasperated sound. “Well why not?”
I come up short, and give her a look. “Why not?”
She nods. “There’s nothing wrong with losing a bit of weight, dear. He’s wealthy and–”
“Is that all mating is about to you? Money?”
The laugh that spills from her lips drips in condescension. “What else would it be about?”
“Love. Friendship.”
“Don’t be stupid, Olivia.”
My cheeks heat. I really hate how small she makes me feel. I search her face for any sign that she gives a crap about me. There’s nothing there. Maybe it’s hidden deep down?
The trouble is. I’m starting to lose all hope that my mother will ever love me.
Movement across the ballroom catches my gaze. Liam is standing at a table with a group of men, but his eyes are trained on me, and his features are pinched in concern. He cares. The pack cares.
Maybe that’s all that matters.
Chapter Twenty-Three
OLIVIA
Physiologically, I haven’t changed. It’s not like the blow job altered my DNA. That would be a scientific marvel.Omega swallows cum in breakthrough gene-editing discovery. No. None of what’s occurred changes the course of human history and science, but it’s fundamentally changed me.
Or perhaps the BJ was the catalyst to a more confident version of myself.
My skin fits a little better. Walking up to the pack’s door feels right. The excitement and desire buzzing through my skin is delightful, and I’m eager to chase this high. To see what else I’m capable of.
Tonight is another date with Sawyer. Hayes is working on a restoration project at the shop, Wilder has a few tattoos on his schedule, and Liam went to see Cici. I’m sad the pack isn’t here, but it’ll be nice to have some one-on-one time with Sawyer.
He opens the front door and releases a low whistle. His gaze slowly roves over my dark blue, V-neck T-shirt and all thecleavage on display, down my body and black athletic leggings, which are like a second skin. The alpha visibly gulps. It’s not like I’m in some elegant dress or sexy nurse costume, but he makes me feel as if I am.
Sawyer’s scent twines around me, and his focus lifts to my face. I’m no makeup genius, but I managed to get eyeliner on without looking absolutely ridiculous, and my hair is half up, the rest of it hanging in loose spirals down my back. “My, my, my. Olivia Wellington, are you trying to kill me?”
