Chapter one
An Alternate Path
Ivy
Arco Ballet Company.
The name was printed across the large banner hanging above the ballet studio mirrors. There were images of beautiful dancers posed artistically, highlighting the professionalism of the company. From the windows above, beams of sunlight shone down, illuminating flecks of dust along the surface, and with the air conditioning turned on, the banner lightly fluttered against the wall.
I tore my gaze from the banner to glance around the large ballet studio. Company class—a dancer's morning daily warmup—would start in ten minutes, and it would be my first with Arco Ballet. I'd just taken a week off to move, and I had a good feeling about this company.
Sitting on the cold, grey dance floor, I gently stretched in preparation for the day. As the clock inched toward nine, more dancers filed into the studio. With each new person who arrived, I grew more nervous, wanting to impress the leadership team on my first day. I didn’t only feel nervous—there was excitement and eagerness as well. Would thiscompany help me meet my goals of growing as a professional ballet dancer?
My eyes drifted back up to the banner and settled on the image of the Artistic Director—Demetrius Ivan. His stance commanded respect and obedience—legs spread wide apart, arms crossed, focused gaze. One could feel the alpha energy radiating off his image.
Demetrius didn’t only run Arco Ballet Company, he was the leader of the Arco Pack. That pack had only one focus: find their omega scent-matched ballerina and cash in on the fame of a bonded pack of elite dancers. Everyone knew that, and nobody tried to hide it. There were dozens of these alpha pack companies all across the country, each trying to pursue this goal, yet none had succeeded so far.
As a beta, I couldn’t care less about their dream. I was never going to be their cherished dancer, as I wasn't an omega, and the whole thing sounded like a fantasy dream when one thought about the numbers. Thousands of ballet dancers across the United States wanted to dance professionally. Hundreds had enough talent to succeed. Every year, though, only a handful of contracts existed offering decent wages and benefits. Here I was as a beta with one of those contracts.
And even if a dancer was lucky enough to land a contract, would they be a scent-match to the pack? Omegas are rare, and scent-matches are extremely rare. There was a reasonthese Alpha companies usually fell apart in less than five years, and Acro Ballet Company was entering its fifth year.
I didn’t know or care about omegas. My plan was to keep to myself and not get involved in pack politics. I'd gain experience in this company, and then in two years, maybe three tops, I'd be moving on to a higher rank in a different company.
As I continued to stretch, I wondered what it would be like to dance with an alpha male. My last company was a small start-up in California led by a beta couple. They were pleasant enough as employers, and the company ran smoothly. There was no fighting, little competition, no emotions running high—just all the beta dancers doing as they were told, supporting each other along the way.
There was also less effort to improve, no hunger to do better, and fewer performing opportunities. I couldn't quite put my finger on why I felt out of place there, but it was time for me to move on.
Breathing in deeply, I took in the smell of morning sweat from other dancers. The room itself was one of the largest ballet studios I’d ever worked in; it was quite luxurious to be with a company that had more resources than a startup. And there were more dancers here, too. Arco Ballet Company had around twenty dancers contracted, most of whom had arrived in the room by now, all spread out as nine o'clock hit.
The main door to the studio opened, and the ballet master teaching today’s company class walked in, followed by the pianist and a photographer. All eyes in the room followed them as each took their preferred spots, signaling the start of class. I stood up, shook out my limbs a little, and rested my hand gently on the barre while a fresh wave of nerves hit my stomach.
As the ballet master and pianist exchanged a few words, I tested my calves and started moving my ankles around. Stretching my feet felt good after a week off.
Click!
The slight noise from the corner grabbed my attention. The photographer moved his camera about the room, taking a few pictures. He turned his camera to me, and a few quick clicks followed. I blushed a bit as he took a few more. Shaking my head playfully at him, I couldn't help but notice he was really cute, definitely a former dancer. He had a dancer’s build and posture—something that one never really loses even after a dancer retires. I’d have to get to know him better—it was always a good idea to make friends with the photographer.
Refocusing, I turned my attention to the ballet master, Steven, who was giving a first-day speech and welcoming the new dancers to the company. They’d hired five new corps members this season—all betas, including me.
After his speech ended, he rattled off the first string of ballet steps—a warm-up facing the ballet barre. Steven waved to the pianist, and the music softly played out from the piano in the corner of the room, filling the space with a delicate waltz. We all moved to the music, bending our knees in plié and rolling our shoulders to warm our bodies. This season had officially begun.
***
Preston
Another first day, another start of a season, and one more year without an omega. I sighed, sitting on the floor and stretching as music played out from the adjacent studio next door. I didn’t join the main company class; it was always a bit too crowded, especially now that we’d added five more dancers. Plus, Steven kept riding my ass about bending my knees more.
Demetrius sold us on this dream—finding an omega to shoot us to stardom. I was already at the top of the company, and the stardom didn’t matter to me. What I craved was the chance to dance with my scent-matched omega—the thought alone created an empty ache inside me.
There was one famous couple in Europe who were scent-matched several decades ago. They performed all over the place, touring their two-man show to every city that wouldwelcome them. During my early training years, I’d gotten to watch one of their last shows before they retired. Even as older dancers, their performance was breathtaking and so full of passion, as if one could experience their love and connection just by watching them. I thought about that passion all the time, wanting to bring it to my own performance.
That wouldn’t happen this year. Demetrius attended all of the omega ballet auditions—no matches. No one ever found any matches. Not once. He said most of the dancers who auditioned weren't even good enough for a contract.
The piano music stopped in the other room, probably for the mid-class water break. I looked over to the large windows that separated the two studios from each other.
A hint of a grin and big, beautiful green eyes blinked back at me before looking away.
That must've been one of the new corps girls. She was beautiful—nice height for me, strong build, and didn’t have a thin look like half those corps girls had. Her brown hair was pulled back into a classic ballet bun with a few wisps of hair hanging free. I didn’t get involved with company girls—too much drama, I reminded myself.
