LUCY
Flying toward… what?
Danger.
Destiny.
Daredevils ready to eat me alive?
The plane vibrated beneath me as it accelerated down the runway, pressing me back against the leather seat. My silver-gloved hands gripped the armrests, knuckles whitening beneath the material as the ground fell away with stomach-lurching suddenness. My second flight ever.Why was this one scarier than the first?
The private plane was sleek and modern. Two of the people who’d helped me get ready for transport in my suite—the medical technician and nurse—sat in plush seats as far away as possible from me, both lost in movies playing on personal screens. They said they’d sit there to give me space, but to call them if I needed anything at all.
Space. I'd had a lifetime of space. Of isolation. Of people maintaining careful distance.
Of being observed through glass when I ached for actual human touch. Or even just the presence of a person, no suitbetween us, in the same room. A casual chat. No medical devices whirring.
If I could stay in Seattle, I wouldn’t need this damn transitional suit. I was well on my way to a truly normal life.Would I need the suit every time I went to a new environment? Or was this a one-time thing? Why hadn’t I asked?
As the plane leveled out, I released my death grip on the armrests. My mind drifted to my ‘reason for being’ list. Swimming in the ocean. Hiking to the top of a mountain. Eating street food. Dancing in the rain without worrying about pneumonia. Kissing someone...anyone.
Swimming in the ocean became swimming with Kane, whose athletic body I'd seen perform impossible stunts in the videos they'd shown me. I imagined him teaching me to float on my back, his strong hands supporting me until I found my confidence in the water.
Hiking a mountain trail transformed into an expedition with Fallon, who was supposed to be the analytical one, the brain behind numerous death-defying stunts. He’d plan our journey, know every rest stop, when we should eat, what we should eat. Held hold me close to keep me warm once we reached the peak.
Eating street food from a carnival vendor became sharing a funnel cake with Asher, his wild laughter as powdered sugar dusted both our faces, his eyes daring me to live fully in the moment rather than worrying about germs or calories or propriety. After the cake, we’d stroll through the crowd. We’d come across a fire performer. Asher would join, flames dancing from his fingertips. I’d love to see him ride through a ring of fire. In person, not on a screen.
Dancing in the rain shifted to standing beside Xander on some high balcony during a thunderstorm. We’d say nothing as we watched the lightning dance in the sky. A loud, world-shattering boom would make me push closer to his body. He’d kiss the top of my head. He’d protect me. Xander just looked like the kind of guy who’d keep me safe. Maybe we wouldn’t dance in the rain but holding one another was enough.
But then I was dancing after all. My body was twirled in circles by gentle, guiding hands. I tilted my head back, eyes watching as the lights above blurred. When I looked down, I saw Nitro’s face. His massive frame was surprisingly graceful, its movements slicing through the air fluidly, without falter. I was gasping when he pulled me into his body and stopped moving. I held my breath as he dipped his head down closer to mine. He was going to kiss me. My first kiss.
I shook my head sharply to dislodge the vision of Nitro’s lips. It was stupid to daydream about domestic bliss with men who set themselves on fire for entertainment. Stupid to crave Alphas who apparently threw knives at each other while drunk—if that one news article about their emergency room visit was accurate.
This pack engineered stunts specifically designed to court death.
Yet, my delusional ass thought they were going to court me instead now.
Doctor Swann's final warnings echoed in my mind: "They're unstable, Lucy. I fear any Omega we send to them will come back in a body bag."
She hadn’t come to say goodbye today. Maybe she didn’t want to see me head towards what she thought would be my execution.
All the warnings in the world couldn't erase the inexplicable certainty that had settled in my chest when I'd first seen their files—these men would understand me because they knew how to face their mortality head on.
The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, making my pulse jump and my heart skip a beat. The oxygen indicator on my wristpanel flickered briefly before stabilizing, reminding me that even a little bump in the road could knock me off course. What would these daredevil Alphas think of a girl who needed supplemental oxygen just to breathe desert air?
My biggest worry reared its ugly head. It whispered softly, persistently, in the back of my mind.
“They’re going to take one look at you, with your sickly pale skin, silver hair, and fragile frame, and they’re going to refuse to accept you. Why would they want you? Why would they want someone so useless? They’ll reject you.”
Rejection. The word itself carried a sting like alcohol on an open wound.
Yes, I'd faced rejection before, in its most fundamental form. Abandoned by my own parents. The people who should have loved me unconditionally. The people who should have never given up on me. The people who proved biological ties meant nothing.
Would Xander, Fallon, Asher, Nitro, and Kane reject me too?
At Eros, I’d told myself it didn’t matter if they didn’t want me.
I’d been lying to myself.
