“Everything okay, Kady?” Ren asks. Though he’s the least threatening of the group, there’s a hidden bite behind his words.
“Of course, it is!” Tyler shouts, practically deafening me. Next time, I’ll bring earplugs. “She’s with her alphas.”
“Maybe tone it down a little?” I snap at him then turn to my friends. “You guys can stay here. I’ll be back soon.” I suck in a deep breath. “We should do a lap.”
“We can come with you?” Delilah offers. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
“It’s better this way.”
This is my mess. They don’t have to suffer along with me. Plus, it’ll make the ruse more convincing. It’s unusual for a lone omega to be seen publicly with a pack of alphas unless something is going on between them.
Delilah nods in understanding, but her narrowed eyes tell me she’s not happy about it.
“Take a photo of us together.” I nudge Devon.
Devon’s eyes soften. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“I’m fine,” I reply briskly. “Just take a few photos, and print them inThe Valley Voice, okay?”
He nods but seems reluctant, chewing on the inside of his cheek while following a few steps behind us as I begrudgingly follow Tyler out of the VIP room and into the throng of partygoers. We descend the stairs to the dance floor, where Monster Mash is blaring.
Usually, I love nights out at Club Knotty. After spending hours in the library, it’s nice to cut loose and dance with the girls, but being accompanied by a smelly storm cloud is enough to put me off the place for life.
Shea rests his sweaty hand on the small of my back as he escorts me, like an officer marching a prisoner to his death. If any other alpha touched me without asking, I’d break their wrist in a second, but I must remain calm. I do a decent job until his hand slithers a little lower, bile rising in my throat when it feels like he’s about to slide down over my…
I spin around quickly, donning my biggest fake smile as I lean in to whisper, “Keep your filthy hands to yourself. Touch me like that again, and I’ll make sure your fingers are cut off. I’m a Sinclair, remember? I have resources.”
Shea’s smug smile vanishes as his face pales, warily backing away from me. He must have read the stories in the press about my family. My father has a less than polished record, even though no one can prove he’s behind any of the speculation.
Through the crowd, I spot my friend from school, Nia, dancing. Unlike the other rich assholes we study with, Nia’s ambitious and strives to work for herself instead of relying on her hefty trust fund. She’s also president of the Feminist Society. Like me, she has no time for alphas.
She flashes me a brilliant smile, waving in my direction. The moment she registers who I’m with, her arm drops, and her eyebrows furrow. Obviously, this is the kind of reaction I’ll have to get used to. Although the Stellas and the Silverwoods know the true nature of my arrangement with the Blandon Pack, it’s important that no one else finds out. Although I trust Nia, the more people who believe our fake love story, the more convincing it will be. One wrong word and a wedding ring will be on my finger quicker than I can say pack.
Tyler offers me his hand. “Shall we dance?”
I’d rather revise tax law or stick one of Delilah’s knitting needles in my eye, but I take it anyway. A slow song comes on, as if the universe is intent on making me suffer. Tyler, on the otherhand, looks positively euphoric. I see him nod at the DJ across the floor—clearly, this change of pace was no accident.
Nia isn’t the only person looking our way. Others whisper behind their hands as the crowd parts for us to make our way to the center of the dance floor. Kyro’s chest seems to inflate up to four times the size, lapping up all the attention.
“We’ll be drowning in omega slick after this.” Shea’s practically panting while ogling a nearby omega who shrinks away as he looks her up and down like a predator eyeing his next meal.
I turn, hoping no one else heard his comment, giving him a warning glare over my shoulder as my lip curls in disgust.
“Keep your pups in line,” I growl to Tyler. “They’ll blow our cover with comments like that.”
“Forget about them.” Tyler twirls me around, almost tripping over his own feet. “Let’s enjoy our evening.”
“We’re not really courting, remember?”
He has zero rhythm. When he steps to the left, he narrowly avoids getting his toes crushed under my heel. He picks a terrible time to dip me, giving my neck whiplash as he pulls me back again in a violent jerk.
“Can you dance without trying to kill me?” I snarl before he attempts the move again.
“We have to make it look convincing.”
“Quit trying so hard.” Bitterness slips into my tone.
“Come on!” Is he trying to make me pass out? No girl needs to be whirled around this fast after cocktails! “Let’s give them a show.”
