Presley.
Even her name annoyed me.
The conversation annoyed me. But for the first time in months, I wasn't dreading the interview. I was looking forward to talking to an omega who might actually bring something different.
4
Presley
The helicopter landed.
It was a sleek, black beast that looked more like a weapon than a mode of transport. The blades kicked up a cyclone of dead leaves and gravel. They also rattled my caravan's thin aluminum walls until I thought the whole thing might tip over into the stream.
Five minutes later there was a knock at the door. Not a polite tap, but a heavy, rhythmic thud that made the entire frame shudder so hard it was going to collapse like a three legged chair.
“Just a minute.” I unraveled the wool from the door handle and pulled it open. Standing there was a man who looked like he’d been built out of bricks. He was enormous and filled the doorway with his too-wide shoulders and massive arms.
"Miss Prince?" he asked.
I stared at him.
He looked like an alpha. He was broad, intimidating, and stood like he owned the world. My nose twitched.He didn't smell of anything other than expensive laundry detergent and mint.
Maeve had told me I’d know an alpha when I met one.
Unique scents, Presley. If the alpha is perfect for you, the smell hits you like you’ve been punched in the guts and winded, and you’ll immediately want to drop your knickers.
If not, he’s probably a Beta.
This man was definitely a Beta. He didn’t look like one, but he smelled of one.
"That's me," I said. My fingers tightened around my borrowed backpack.
"I'm here to escort you to London. Please, follow me."
I turned back to the caravan. Mr. Cheddar sat on the table, eyes narrowed in judgment at the man. I dropped the bag and scooped him up for one last squeeze.
"Right, you," I whispered into his fur. "No breaking in while I'm gone. And no leaving me gifts. I mean it. If I come back to a field mouse in my bed, you’re banned from my home forever."
He’d left me three last week. One had been sitting on my cheek when I woke up, staring me in the eye. I’d nearly hit the ceiling.
I set him down, grabbed my bag, and stepped out into the gale.
The walk to the helicopter felt like a dream. I just hoped it didn’t turn into a nightmare. The man helped me into the cabin, and as I sat down, I gasped. I lifted my bottom up and down while checking the sensation.
"Is the seat…warm?"
"Heated seats, Miss Prince," the pilot replied as he buckled himself in.
As I settled back, a grin spread across my face despite my terror. "Heated seats. God, they reallyarerich. Forget the flying, this is the best bit."
The flight was a blur of gray clouds, and my stomach threatened to unload up my throat. When we finally landed hours later, it wasn't at an airport. It was on top of a building that pierced the sky like a needle.
Hastings Tower.
A woman in a navy dress met me on the roof. She didn't say much, just guided me into a private elevator that moved so fast my stomach stayed on the roof while the rest of me plummeted to the fourteenth floor.
She opened the door to a suite that was larger than the café.
