Kade's chest expanded with a deep breath behind me, and I felt it all the way through my body. “You need to sit down and rest before the after-party,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It's been a long day.”
But I didn't want to move yet. Didn't want to leave this moment, this feeling of being exactly where I belonged. The exhaustion was real, yes. My voice was raw, my feet ached, and my muscles were protesting. But something more important was happening here, something I felt was more valuable than any applause.
I felt like I was home.
Chapter Thirty-two
Jasmine
A few hours later, after I’d changed, re-applied makeup, and snacked on chips and dip. I was ready to show my face again. My Alphas had agreed to meet me back in the ballroom when I was ready. I'd changed in my dressing room with trembling fingers, watching the midnight blue performance dress pool on the floor like spilled ink while this new creation slid over my body.
I looked in the mirror, and the light green ballgown I wore shone back at me with diamond sparkles twisting over the corset bodice, and a mermaid outline accentuating my figure. My hair was delicately plaited and pinned up, letting curled waves dangle down, caressing the sides of my face and neck. I was ready. Physically, I was ready. Mentally, however, I was nowhere near at ease with socializing with over a hundred people at once. At least I imagined it would be at once, people crowding around me until I’m swallowed by desperate bodies wanting to shove their business cards in my face.
I shook myself out of the negative thoughts. This was just part of the process. Part of being someone. Being worthwhile. And I wanted to be worthwhile enough... for them. My Alphas. They had given me everything in such a short space of time. Whispered promises of the world to me, and delivered tenfold. This party, this event... it was the least I could do.
Taking a deep breath, I left my dressing room and plastered a smile on my face, albeit a nervous one. As I stepped into the ballroom, the after-party hummed. Chandeliers cast golden light across faces flushed with champagne and conversation. Crystal glasses caught the light and threw it back in tiny rainbows that danced across white tablecloths. The air carried layers of expensive perfume, aged wine, and something that smelled like success—if success had a scent, I supposed it would smell exactly like this. Clean, refined, and full of possibility.
I moved through the crowd with steps that felt steadier than they had any right to be. My feet still ached in the heels I'd changed into, slightly lower than the performance pair but still higher than anything I'd worn on the streets. Each step was a minor victory, a reminder that I could navigate this world even when my body protested.
An older woman approached, her silver hair swept up in an elegant twist. She held a bouquet of white roses, their petals perfect and unblemished, wrapped in paper that crinkled softly as she extended them toward me.
“My dear, that was extraordinary,” she said, her voice carrying the warmth of genuine appreciation. “I've attended this gala for fifteen years, and I've never heard anything quite like your performance. The emotion you brought to that piece... it moved me to tears.”
I accepted the roses with hands that only shook slightly now, bringing them to my face to breathe in their delicate scent. “Thank you,” I managed, and my voice came out steady despite the emotion swelling in my chest. “That means more than you know.”
She patted my arm with a touch that reminded me of how my mother used to comfort me, and something in my throat went tight. Then she moved away, disappearing back into the crowd, and I stood there holding the roses like they were made of glass.
A young man materialized next, probably close to my age, wearing a suit that hung on him with the ease of someone born to wear such things. His smile was genuine, reaching his eyes in a way that made me believe he meant what he said.
“Your voice is incredible,” he said, his enthusiasm spilling over. “The way you built into the chorus.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I was literally holding my breath. Do you have any recordings available? I'd love to share your music with my friends.”
“Not yet,” I admitted, and felt a flutter of something that might have been pride. “But soon, I think.”
He pressed a card into my palm, his fingers warm against mine. “Please let me know when you do. I run a music blog, nothing huge, but we have a decent following. I'd love to feature you.”
More people approached as I moved deeper into the party. They offered compliments about my tone, stage presence, emotional authenticity, heck, even what I was wearing. Each word settled over me, building something inside my chest that felt dangerously close to confidence. I tucked business cards into the small clutch I carried, watched champagne bubbles rise in glasses pressed into my hands, and tried to absorb that this was actually happening.
This was real.
The ballroom spun around me in the best possible way. I caught glimpses of elegant dresses in jewel tones, heard laughter that sounded unforced and genuine, and felt the warmth of bodies moving in the comfortable proximity of people who belonged. And somehow, impossibly, I knew I belonged here too.
My apple pie scent had settled into something content and warm, mixing with the expensive perfumes that surrounded me. No one wrinkled their nose or moved away. If anything, peopleseemed drawn to me, gravitating toward where I stood like I was something magnetic and worth approaching.
I spotted Kade across the room, his tall frame commanding attention even in a space full of important people. He stood with a group of suited men, their body language suggesting they were hanging on his every word. His oak scent carried across the distance, soothing my body in a way no other man could. Well, none except my other two Alphas. I frowned. Where were they?
I turned, scanning for the others, and found Theo near the buffet table. He'd attracted a small crowd of his own. People clustered around him, laughing at something he'd just said, and I watched his face transform with genuine joy. The scar that ran up the right side of his face pulled slightly with his smile, but it didn't diminish the warmth in his expression. If anything, it made him more real, more human, more Theo.
A woman touched his arm, saying something I couldn't hear, and he threw back his head and laughed. The sound carried across the ballroom, deep and infectious, and I felt myself smiling in response. This was a side of Theo I hadn't seen much—relaxed, and at ease in a crowd. The protector, who could also be the life of the party.
Lucian stood near the grand piano we'd performed on earlier, naturally gravitating back toward the instrument even at the after-party. He'd drawn his own audience, and I could see him gesturing animatedly as he spoke, probably telling stories about the performance or the creative process. His rosewood scent reached me even from this distance, mixing with oak and leather to create something that smelled like home.
Someone in his group asked a question, and Lucian's hands moved to illustrate his answer, painting pictures in the air. Then, as he smiled, it was clear it was the smile of someone who loved what they did and loved sharing it with others. He belonged inthis world of music and creation, and watching him here made something in my chest expand.
They were happy. All three of them, scattered throughout the ballroom, engaging with people and enjoying themselves. And knowing I'd contributed to that happiness... that my performance had been successful enough to make them proud, it filled me with a warmth that even rivaled the champagne.
Another admirer approached, this time a middle-aged couple who wanted to talk about the charity the gala supported. They asked thoughtful questions about my music, about my plans for the future, and treated me like someone whose opinions mattered. I relaxed into the conversation, my responses coming more easily, my shoulders dropping from where they'd been tensed near my ears.
I was doing this. Actually doing this. Navigating a world I'd only ever observed from the outside, holding my own in conversations with people who belonged here by birth or achievement. The roses in my arms were proof of appreciation. The business cards in my clutch were proof of opportunity. The smiles from my Alphas across the room were proof of love, even if they hadn’t marked me yet.
