Page 10 of Heat Hesitation

"I could be persuaded." He looks down at his watch. While we're all impeccably dressed—well, everyone but me—Enzo takes perfection to a new level. His three piece suit is sharp, with crisp, fitted lines and a perfectly folded pocket square, nearly starch-stiff at the shoulders, and when he lifts his sleeve to check the time on his twenty-thousand dollar watch, he looks like he'd rather be in a boardroom than finding a woman to court.

Enzo isn’t sure if he’s straight, fluid or asexual, but he's assured us over the years that we should continue to court omegas as we see fit and he'll figure it out as we go. He's meant to be in our pack; he's with us for a reason, and we love him, even if he's made it more difficult to find an omega. Not that it matters anymore—not to me, anyway.

"How long do you suppose we'll need to put up with this farce?" He asks, tugging his sleeve back into place before stopping another server passing by with more snacks. He's an odd guy, Enzo.

I look around the room, seeing both Sullivan and Theodore smiling genially, making the woman in front of them laugh as she clutches her chest coyly.

I roll my eyes and look back at Enzo, but he's looking down at his phone, having given up the pretense of giving a shit. His screen shows the familiar stock market app he loves to trade millions in like he's in a low-stakes poker game.

I catch Sully looking over at us, and for a moment, the disappointment in his eyes, however brief, makes me feel shame for abandoning him. So, I push off the wall, plaster on a fake smile, and join my brothers.

"Asher," Sully welcomes, relieved I'm joining them.

"Oh, Asher, it's so nice to meet you," the omega greets, dipping her chin submissively. Her chaperone hovers a few feet away. Not all omegas have them, but those from wealthy families, who treat courting like a horse race intent on garnering the highest return for their investment, always hire a chaperone to protect the omega's virtue and move things along if there's a lag in conversation.

Supposedly, there was an incident many years ago involving one of the unbonded omegas and an alpha pack at one of these things, but as far as I can tell, the chaperones are just another excuse to elevate an omega's virginal qualities.

"Meet Bridgette Wilkes, graduated this past April. What was it you said you specialized in?" Theo leans close, seemingly interested in her answer, though I know better. Enzo might be a savant with numbers and money, but Theo's a master at feigning interest.

The girl smells like peaches, and I'm surprised to find it's actually pleasant. It's not lavender and rose, though, so it holds no interest for me.

"Entertaining, actually. My family owns a national hotel chain, so it's already in my blood. I just graduated from the OFA; I'm twenty-one and received top marks in all my classes. But I adore entertaining. All the girls on my floor would flock to my room, and we'd do these super fun theme parties after curfew." She reads off her accomplishments like checkmarks on a clipboard, making her after-hours parties sound scandalous. I stifle a yawn.

"Oh, I can't wait to hear what kinds of themes a group of lovely, unchaperoned omegas came up with," Theo rubs his hands together salaciously. I can't believe anyone would buy that, but Bridgette giggles and taps her fingers against his chest.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She lowers her head again, glancing coquettishly at him through her lashes. Bridgette and Theo continue their flirtatious banter, so I'm relieved when I catch the subtle, telltale signs that Sully's bored.

An elbow nudges me, and I look up to find Theo giving me an amused grin. Apparently I’ve missed entire chunks of conversation. “Bridgette was just saying how impressive you are.”

“What?”

“You’re impressive, Alpha,” she says deferentially. “I’ve always thought so. I’ve been reading about your pack for years, I couldn’t wait to graduate so I could come to the gala and meet you three. And last year, you were so heroic trying to save that poor omega. I read all about it. I hope if I ever fall, you’ll be there to catch me.”

She’s too close. Her lips pout, eyes blinking with thick fake lashes like she’s waving little fans. It’s so fucking fake I can’t stand it. Her peach scent coats my tongue, my throat with a sweetness I can’t escape. My neck itches with a need to get the fuck away from her. It’s not right, it’s not lavender and sage and rose.

Theo clears his throat, “Bridgette, honey, would you like to dance with me?”

"I would love to dance." She places both hands on her chest and dips, almost like she's giving Theo a bow, drawing the eye to her cleavage.

He smiles with his teeth, widening his eyes at me not to snap at the girl. Before he can drag her away, she steps between me and Sully and lowers her voice, “I know I would make the perfect addition to your pack. I can see how you respond to my scent, we’re sympathetic, compatible on even the basest levels. I’ve been on heat suppressants since my designation ceremony and have remained untouched.”

With that, Theo takes her hand, quickly pulling her away as she sways her hips dramatically. Once she’s gone I feel like I can breathe again. Looking over at Sully, he seems just as perplexed.

“Did she just tell us she’s a virgin?”

“She’s worse than the mother’s,” he shakes his head. “I’m sorry about that, brother. What she said about saving the omega—“

“It’s fine. Let’s just drop it.”

He nods his head. “For the record, I am not scent-sympathetic with that girl. She smells nice but that’s it. And I didn’t miss the way she said, ‘you three.’”

“Yeah, I caught that too.”

"Save some for us, huh, assholes?" Jackson Olcene, that smarmy motherfucker, saunters over in the wake of Bridgette and Theo. Whenever I see him, I have the inexplicable urge to punch him in the face. Something about him is just… off. Wrong, in every sense of the word.

Sully cuts off my train of thought, "Jackson. What can we do for you?"

Jackson bares his teeth, the very definition of an unhinged alpha. If the last year was a struggle to keep my alpha under control, Jackson looks like he's had years of practice. His eyes are always heavy with bags, a darkness in them, like he carries a weight he can't shake.

---