“Life or death,” he said solemnly. “Diego thinks that weird twisted thing over there is about the meaninglessness of existence, but I’m pretty sure the artist just threw some metal together and called it deep.”
I laughed. “You’re both wrong. It’s about transformation.”
“Transformation,” Rett repeated, and something in his tone made my stomach do a little flip.
The way he said it, the way they were all looking at me... suddenly the crowded event felt very small and very warm.
That’s when the fourth one showed up.
I didn’t see him coming. One second, there were three Sterlings; the next, there were four, and holy shit, this one was intense. Tall, broad, pale hair, and eyes like winter sky. He didn’t introduce himself, just nodded when Rett said, “Dane. Security.”
“You know who I am,” I said, not really a question.
“I know everyone,” he said simply.
“Dane’s our strong, silent type,” Tristan announced. “Very mysterious. Drives people crazy.”
The man in question just looked at Tristan like he was considering violence.
“Don’t mind him,” Diego said. “Tristan thinks life should be more like a reality show.”
“Some of us like drama.” Tristan shrugged. “Some of us like quiet.”
Dane’s pale eyes found mine. “Quiet’s not always better.”
“No,” I heard myself say, “it’s not.”
Something passed between us, some kind of understanding that made no sense but felt real anyway.
“Careful,” Tristan grinned. “Keep agreeing with him, and he might actually smile.”
The air around us felt charged, like right before a thunderstorm. Four men, four sets of eyes all focused on me, and I felt... powerful. Wanted. Like I was the most interesting person in the room.
“We should get dinner,” Rett said suddenly. “After this. All of us.”
It wasn’t really a request. But it wasn’t an order either.
I looked around at them, at four faces waiting for my answer, and felt something reckless rise in my chest.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s do that.”
And that had been it. The beginning of the end of my normal life.
“You still with me, miss?” The cab driver’s voice pulls me back to the present. We’re stopped at a red light, and he’s looking at me in the rearview mirror with concern.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Just... thinking.”
“Must be some thoughts. You went a million miles away.” He smiles kindly. “We’re about ten minutes from your place, by the way.”
Ten minutes. Ten minutes until I can lock myself in my apartment and try to process the fact that I’ve been claimed by fouralphas.Four. When most omegas would consider themselves lucky to be claimed byone.
Oh my God, what will Leah think? I was her emotional support beta. I fielded her panicked 2 a.m. phone calls. I held her hand when she cried. I was the calm, rational voice telling her she was in control. She’s not going to suggest a psych ward; she’s going to look at me with so much pity I might actually spontaneously combust.
My hand drifts to my neck, fingers tracing over the marks. Each one feels different. Rett’s is the most prominent, right at the junction where my neck meets my shoulder. Tristan’s is higher, almost playful in its placement. Diego’s is softer somehow, though no less permanent. And Dane’s... Dane’s is at the nape, hidden unless I wear my hair up, but I can feel it like a brand.
I close my eyes, and suddenly I’m back in that penthouse, the city lights twinkling below us as four pairs of hands explored my body...
“Another glass?” Diego had asked, holding the champagne bottle aloft. We’d left the gala hours ago, continuing the party in their private penthouse. Just the five of us.
