Tara seemed happy enough with the compromise. “I need to go find a place to hide from my dogs anyway, we’re playing search and destroy. Mingle, havefun. And if you need me, I’m here, okay? Charlie and Jessie will understand.”
I nodded with a smile that I felt about eighty-five percent of the way. “Go, I’ll be fine.” I had no plans on interruptingher night. Just because I was packless and sad didn’t mean she needed to pretend to be.
She planted a lip-glossy kiss on my cheek before sauntering off, turning to cup her hands around her mouth to shout back at me, “Remember your safeword!”
I’d changedinto my costume before we’d left the pack house, tiny plaid skirt bouncing with each step as I strutted in my heeled Mary Janes along the main drag of the park.
The bright green bracelet around my wrist, matching all but Indi’s in a bright yellow, annoyed me.
I’d expected all of the alphas that weresupposedto be courting me tonight, huntingmetonight, to have at least opted for the wrist band that would make another omega ask before touching. And I’d picked the same stupid one out of irritation.
Not that it truly mattered. I had no intention to pack up. And it was clear they didn’t either.
My scent was overly sweet with my irritation, which Indi mistook for nerves as their arm circled around my waist to pull me against their warm side.
“I didn’t know you were into drag,” they teased, in a clear effort to distract me.
The most annoying part? It sort of worked. Indi’s subtly earthy and sweet scent was comforting to the point of coma-inducing, their body the perfect protection against the chilly October air as we wandered through the crowded aisles of the fair games. Game runners to my left and right called to us, trying to get us to throw a ball through the glory hole, or knock over the stack of ‘milk bottles,’ that looked a lot like a pyramid of dildos.
“It’s your Kill Floor main, right?” Marcus asked, his smooth, deep voice nearly making me jump in surprise.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, feeling a little heat threaten my face as I met his mossy green eyes. “In the popstar skin. I didn’t think you’d remember that?”
The broad-shouldered alpha shrugged. “It's important to you.”
“And,” Indi hissed in my ear, drawing my attention back to them. “He’s probably jerked off in the shower picturing you in this outfit more times than he could count.”
“Clam it, Indigo,” Marcus barked.
They laughed. “That’s a yes, for the record. You going to try and steal Cam’s prize tonight then?”
I huffed, but the idea that they would both be vying for me sent heat blooming over my chest. “Isn’t the prize meant for whoever wins?”
“Of course, Gattino.” Cameo called from ahead, pausing in swivelling his head back and forth to inspect the prizes available at the game booths, to look at me. “Which is why you’ll be mine tonight. I always win.”
My heart picked up a fraction at the way he purred that name back to me,Gattino. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but the roll of the syllables on Cameo’s tongue?
Heavenly.
It made me wonder what he’d sound like, half breathless from chasing me through the park. If he didn’t find some other omega to catch his interest first.
“Actually,” Marcus said with vicious glee. “Your win percentage is something closer to seventy-five percent, and I intend on lowering that tonight.”
Cameo’s eyes narrowed, lips twisting angrily. “Unlikely, Stronzo.”
I knew that the jeering between them had little to do with me, so much as it was about the general air of competition that seemed to follow this pack wherever it went. Like if the three of them admitted to each other that they actually wanted to be together, that they would have heart attacks, or… I don’t know, explode?
But that wasn’t my business! They wereapack, notmypack, and I wasn’t getting in the middle of their interpersonal issues…
Even if part of me was beginning to feel at war with the commitment-phobe in me.
Fuck, Joon. Way to throw away your entire personality for a bunch of guys? What happened to being a strong, independent omega that didn’t want to pack up, huh?
Maybe we could see if we can get through one night together before I start daydreaming about what colour to paint the nursery.
The fair games split into two directions as we continued our path along the row, the dings and shouts I’d come to associate with the carnival breaking away in favour of an announcer with a megaphone, an alpha dressed in a velvet suit in deep purple with thick white vertical stripes pacing back and forth over a small raised stage.
“Gather round, gather round! Look how she squirms!” he called, though a small crowd was already circling him, making it difficult to see over heads even with my platform boots on.
