Just like last night before the mixer, that feeling of wanting to be sick is back. I can’t move, can’t respond. The only thing I can do is stand there, tense, and wonder what kind of alternate reality I stepped into when I wasn’t looking.
My friend sighs. “Look, if you don’t want to open it, I can. I’ll read it and judge it for you. How about that?”
There’s no way she’ll let me drop it in the trash, so might as well get it over with. I hand her the small card, and she tears into it, moving so that I can’t read what’s written inside it. Her eyes furiously read line after line, and it’s a long few moments before she meets my gaze.
She doesn’t look mad, and that tells me what she’s going to say before she says it. “It’s sweet. He really does sound sorry. Here, you should read it.” She offers the card back to me, and I’m hesitant to take it and read it.
Dear Omega, first, I want to say how sorry I am about what happened. I never expected to run into my scent match. I should have reacted differently, come over to you and talked to you. Gotten to know you instead of running away. All of the alpha musks and the omega scents were too much for me. I was overwhelmed. Overstimulated. Whatever word you want to use, but I know it’s no excuse for acting like you didn’t exist.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m running out of card space here, but I’ll understand if you never want to see me again.
But I don’t want that. I’m hoping that you can give me another chance, that you’ll want to meet me and my pack. I won’t run from you again, I promise you. Redd.
My mouth gets dry as I read the card, and all the while Casey watches me, waiting for my reaction. She lets me have a few moments to myself after I finish reading, to wrestle with my thoughts, but then she questions me, “What are you going to do?”
It hurt so bad when he walked away from me, like he was personally rejecting me and everything I am—but based on the card’s contents, that’s not what happened. He wasn’t thinking straight, if he’s anything like me when I’m overwhelmed by things. I couldn’t really fault him for that, could I? The alpha was like me, in that respect.
“Earth to Dulcie,” Casey says, snapping the fingers on her card-free hand.
“I don’t know. I mean… what if I give him and his pack a chance and it blows up in my face?” Even as I say it, what Mercedes told me last night jumps to the forefront of my mind. It sounds like this alpha, Redd, wants to make it up to me, like he regrets it. Her mate, her scent match, took longer to come around.
I can’t imagine how much that hurt her at the time, but she was able to get over it, forgive him. If Mercedes could do it, so can I. I might not be as confident or as strong as her, but if I fake it, will anyone know the difference?
If scent matches are so rare, I can’t just throw it away and never look back. No. I have to do something I’m absolutely terrified of, but it’s my only option.
I have to meet them.
Chapter Six – Lev
Monroe is stony silent in the driver’s seat of the car. Redd, on the other hand, looks like he wants to puke out the window of the passenger’s seat. I’m sitting in the back behind Monroe, so I can see the fretting alpha perfectly.
I didn’t like the fact that he’s been so torn up over what happened. He made a mistake, and as much as some mistakes hurt, they happen. What matters is how you react in spite of those mistakes, how you fix those mistakes—and that night, after we went home, I’m not going to lie, I was a little worried we’d never hear from the omega again.
But we did. We got a message from Delilah saying she wants to see us. Delilah and Alabaster Security are letting us meet with her at N.O.A., something they don’t normally allow.
We aren’t wearing tight suits like we were that night. We’re in our normal clothes. Jeans and plain shirts. Nothing too fancy. Still, I feel underdressed, considering the circumstances. I don’t know what to expect once we get there, but we were told someone from Alabaster Security would bring us to the omega.
We still don’t even know her name. How crazy is that?
Betas don’t often end up in alpha packs, which means we don’t often get omega mates. If she’s Redd’s scent match, though, that means she’s ours. She’s meant to be ours. There’s no denying that.
The car ride is eerily silent, and after a while, we pull up to the front of New Omega Academy. Monroe parks the car and turns the engine off. I think we all heave a collective sigh before we get out; each of us is wrestling with our own worries and anxieties.
This meeting could go really well, or it could go terribly. It’d been a week since the mixer on Valentine’s Day. I assume we hadto wait so long because many omegas here had accepted offers from packs and had probably moved out already. Had to give it a little time so things could cool down around the academy.
We approach the front door, where someone is waiting for us just inside. A receptionist smiles at us and makes a call. Shortly after that, an alpha wearing all black with a badge saying Alabaster Security on his arm comes strolling out of the nearby hall. He’s tall, like most alphas, with thick black hair and striking blue eyes. He has an almost crazy look about him, and that look does not diminish when he introduces himself.
“Warren Alabaster,” he says with a nod. “You three must be the alphas I’ve been told to watch. You ready for your little date?” He grins at that, as if he finds it amusing. Maybe he does. Something seems a little off about him.
Monroe nods. “Yes, we’re ready.” Beside him, Redd is in a constant cycle of flexing and unflexing his hands.
Warren smirks and gestures for us to follow him, so that’s what we do. He leads us through the halls of N.O.A., eventually taking us to the center courtyard, an area surrounded on all sides by the building. A few large trees dot the green area, along with a few benches here and there. The sun shines brightly overhead, birds chirp, and insects buzz.
And amongst the greenery, beneath the largest tree, sitting on a blanket on the grass, is our omega. Her pink hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and she wears all black, absentmindedly picking at a fray in the blanket below her until the breeze blows and carries our scent to her. I don’t smell her at all—or it’s my beta nose not being as strong as an alpha’s.
The second she smells us in the air, her head snaps up and she turns her head toward us, her eyes widening.
I didn’t get to see her at the mixer. I don’t remember her being in the group of omegas that entered. She must be goodat blending in, which is a ridiculous statement, because she’s stinking gorgeous.
