THE BEGINNING – LILY
Aged 18
Penthouse suite
Liberty Hotel, Los Angeles
Holy….heatwave, Hollywood.
I swim up out of my slick-laced dreams, my hands creeping across the rumpled sheets in search of....What am I looking for again?
It only takes a moment for my brain to catch up to the rest of my body, and then I flush from the top of my fuzzy head to the tips of my curling toes.
Oh,yes.
Otley and Ellis.
The two sexy-as-hell alphas who just saw me through my first ever heat.
Bright Californian sunlight glints behind the heavy drapes and I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to imprint them on my brain. Otley is tall and lean with short ash-blond hair and gray eyes that look like storm clouds behind his wire-framed glasses,while Ellis has jade green eyes and ink-black curls that fall over his brow in a tempting wave. They wear tuxedos the way guys back home wear Wranglers, and there’s something about the way they move that makes me think of sleek, jungle cats on the prowl.
You’re definitely not in Idaho anymore, Lily.
I stretch and smile, rubbing at the sweet ache in my belly. It’s soothing, but my fingers itch to stroke my alphas again, to claim all that firm muscle under heated skin… But since they headed out to get us breakfast, I guess I’ll have to settle for rolling in their sheets until they come back and feed my insatiable appetite.
I groan and giggle at the same time.
How on earth did I get so lucky?
First the contest win and an all-expenses paid trip to LA, and then the best heat an omega could ever wish for, with two of the most attentive men I’ve ever met. I’m not the kind of girl who has good things just fall into my lap, but after a weekend of being worshipped by Ellis and Otley, I’m thinking that Lady Luck might have had a change of heart. Maybe this is the beginning of a life that most small-town girls only get to read about in glossy magazines.
Don’t count your flowers before they bloom, kid.
Sage wisdom from my adoptive mom, Rosie, whose voice is a permanent echo in the back of my head. She might grow flowers for a living, but she hasn’t got an impractical bone in her body. And after taking me in as a toddler, she’s raised me to always keep my feet firmly on the ground.
Still… I don’t think she’d begrudge me feeling alittlegiddy right now.
It’s hard to keep the smug smile off my face as I look around the lavish hotel suite. Evidence of my three-day heat is scattered across the bed in the form of bruised rose petals and crumbs ofchocolate cake. Sometime last night Otley insisted on ordering the most sinful dessert on the room service menu, and we’d eaten it while they painted their initials on my tingling skin in chocolate frosting…
The memory makes my cheeks burn, and I can’t resist kicking my feet a little as I turn my head and bury my face in the pillow.
Ugh.
Roses and chocolate havenothingon the scent of my two alphas.
I knew they were something special the moment I smelled them across the room at the party. I swear, I made a literal beeline in their direction when I first caught wind of their perfect scents. One minute I was nodding politely at the competition sponsor - a PR guy called Crest whose smile was as fake as his spray tan - and the next I was stalking across the room like a safari hunter after elusive prey.
I giggle as I remember the way their eyes dilated when I sauntered past. They were chatting up a couple of college girls who were both older and prettier than me by miles, but they didn’t give them a backward glance as they followed me out onto the balcony. Silky moonlight, balmy breezes, and a million-dollar view… Everything faded away as they ran their noses down my neck, breathing me in.
Is it any wonder they triggered my first ever heat?
Since presenting as an omega three months ago, I’ve been waiting with both excitement and trepidation for my heat to arrive. I knew the signs to look out for – light-headedness, difficulty focusing, and sensitivity to smells - but the reality was so muchmorethan the dry textbooks I read at school.
I guess that’s because my biology teacher, Mr. Frink, didn’t account for scent matches.
As I trace my fingers over my tender breasts, it’s hard not to feel smug. Mr. Frink warned us that first heats are a biologicalnecessity and nothing more. Most omegas either book into a sterile treatment clinic to see them through their haze, or struggle through alone with muscle relaxants and the few heat aids offered at the local drugstore. It’s a rite of passage, but rarely anything to write home about.
But then, most omegas don’t have access to not one buttwoscent matches. Not only are Ellis and Otley attractive college guys, but they’ve told me more than once that their every urge is to pleasure and pamper me, until I’m stuffed full and fully satisfied.
