"Wow, very mysterious. You’re clearly having fun with this," I mutter, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation.
Storm has always been the family troublemaker, the kind who caused chaos with his volatile purple alpha nature, never afraid to say exactly what he thought, even if it offended people. I have always envied that a little.
"So when is he showing up, this special pick of yours?" I raise an eyebrow, trying to sound casual, but I’m clinging to the idea more than I want to admit. If Storm really thinks he has a good match, then he better make it happen.
Storm suddenly flashes a strange expression. "You know, I’m serious. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you who I sensed as your ideal match, so I decided to make an exception this time and not interfere at all, not push, not convince either side. Usually I push hard with the people under my care during these marriage fairs, but this time I’m letting go. This time it has to be a real ‘Fate’s Choice’…"
I start laughing awkwardly, more like a quiet, nervous giggle, not even sure why, but when I get tense I tend to get… weird like that.
Storm watches me for a moment and then says, "Gabriel, I hope that… what happened will help you grow up a little. Get your shit together. Because right now you seem… lost."
I go still and shrink into myself even more.
I want to respond, but the words get stuck in my throat.
Storm turns and walks out of my booth without saying anything else. His boyfriend, Damien, waits for him outside and just sends me an encouraging smile.
I stay there, wondering what Storm meant about always pushing the other candidates so hard, the ones he’d handled before. So what changed here? Why did he suddenly back off?
I sit there, dazed, and over the next hour two more people show up, but I turn them all away, spiking Gessler’s irritation hard.
In the meantime, the tattooed guy finds his contract husband, and that leaves just me. Out of the five guys sent here by Second Chance, I’m the leftover.
Maybe it’s because the other alphas weren’t picky?
I am, though, and that year and a half I spent being in love with Marcel raised my standards whether I like it or not, because he was so beautiful.
When I close my eyes, I still see that moment when Edgar pulled away from him on the bed, his heated body flushed from kisses, his nipples pink, and that brief glimpse of his parted, wet hole…
Just the memory makes something in me ache.
The question is: if I wasn’t basically in jail right now, would I crawl back to Marcel on my knees and beg for his mercy and forgiveness? Would I really be that pathetic?
Who knows. Guys like me get called paypigs for a reason. Omegas use them without mercy and give nothing back.
I’m consumed by shame over what I feel, over the fact that despite everything he did to me there’s still this pull inside me, this hunger that keeps reaching toward him, desire that was never satisfied, a craving for his attention, for those rare moments when his hand rested on my shoulder. I wanted him so badly, but… he could never be mine.
Marcel betrayed me.
Closing this chapter for good is the best decision.
Now here I am, sitting in a glass booth on a completely different life path, one that at least keeps me from doing something stupid like reaching out to him again. He crossed the line, but the truth is, I never really knew how to set boundaries in the first place.
Still deep in my brooding, I suddenly notice something unusual.
A small group of people, four alphas in black masks walking together, escorting someone between them, someone also wearing a face mask like he’s afraid of catching something from the crowd.
It’s a strange procession. Those guys look like bodyguards, but who would need four of them?
The person between them is short, but from this distance I can’t make out much else.
The man walks slowly along the rows of booths with alphas, studying the ones still left after six hours, and it has to be said that all the best-looking alphas are already gone, picked out earlier, leaving the more average ones… and me, the only one left from Second Chance.
The group gradually moves closer in my direction, and I can’t help staring because I haven’t seen anything like this here before. Sure, people come in groups, with friends or family to help them choose, but a guy with bodyguards is something else.
You’d think someone like that wouldn’t need this kind of setup to find a mate. If they can afford security, they probably have options. Money tends to attract people no matter how you look at it.
The person doesn’t stop at any booth for long, just pauses briefly at the information boards, reads them, then moves on.
