Page 19 of Hunt

BELLA

"Your makingthis harder than it needs to be," the woman called Alana chastises me. I just glare at the prissy blonde, trying to ignore the throbbing in my skull as she yanks a brush though my tangled hair.

Alpha Liam hired her to get me ready for this evening's festivities, and I can already tell she’s hating every moment of it. I'm basically sitting here like a wet noodle, fresh out of the shower, scowling and not lifting a finger to help her pluck and primp me to within an inch of my life.

I don’t even want to go to this fucking thing. The thought of a wedding makes me cringe, especially after I was almost forced into one via blood ritual.

Alana grumbles as she begins to dry my hair, blasting me with heat and tapping my neck every so often with the end of the hairdryer, causing me to wince. The corners of her over-lined lips tug up in satisfaction every single time.

I’m about ready to take the hairdryer and see how far up her perky little ass it can possibly go. She's a waif of a woman, withlong skinny limbs and brittle blonde hair that doesn't match her dark brows. On some, it might seem like a look, but on Alana, it's nothing short of a travesty.

"You really should be grateful you're even invited to an event like this. The Giovannis are influential people. You should feel honored to witness their mating."

"I'm fucking thrilled." My mouth stretches into a smile while I purposely keep the upper half of my face blank. "Can you tell?"

She frowns, yanking yet again on my long strands before reaching for the curling iron. "Ungrateful... I'd kill for an invitation. They say it's going to be the mating of the season." Her voice is wistful and for a moment, I pity her and her small life.

"They literally say that about all of them. Too bad it’ll never be you up at the altar, huh."

She scowls, but doesn’t bother denying it. She’s a beta, but she clearly envies my omega status. She’s got that look in her eyes that tells me she craves attention.

She finishes my hair like she was hired to do instead of giving me advice I never asked for. "All done, you can put your dress on, just don't mess your hair up while your at it; your alphas will have me fired if you walk out there looking anything less than perfect."

Snorting, I stand up from my vanity mirror and shoo her from the room. She leaves in a bustle of hair products and mumbled curses. Leaning back against my door, I glare at the dress splayed on my bed. Another monstrosity, this time in the lightest blush pink it almost looks white.

Wearing white to a wedding seems distasteful. But I'm sure my fathers carefully picked it out specifically for that reason. They’ll do just about any petty thing to assert themselves over me, no matter the situation.

I’m dreading this mating. I know the Giovannis. Three alpha sons, about thirty years old by now. There was a time when we were younger that I considered all three of them my friends. But it could never last. They soon grew up just as ruthlessly as the rest of us. They became amade manthe year they turned eighteen—too early in my opinion, but ever since, their pack has been sniffing out eligible omegas.

A part of me is honestly shocked that our packs never tried to mate me with them. Thank fuck for my suppressant pills. I have a feeling that’s the only reason I slipped past their radar.

I'm assuming their new omega is some sort of rich girl who runs in similar circles. I wonder if I know her. In school back in New York, we were all pretty tight, and I was pretty much a sociallite throughout my teens and twenties. There’s a good chance I’m about to attend the mating of someone I used to be close with.

I pity the poor girl. I'm not sure how I plan to stomach this ordeal, but as I slip the dress on, I can feel myself sinking back into that robotic fluidity that I've honed over years and years of sitting quietly beside Mama while the alphas ran the whole fucking world.

Like a good little De Luca bitch.

My hands tremble as I take a long look at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are bright pink, flushed and hot. I rub my thighs together, feeling the tingle travel up higher and higher. I’m aching, and dread wars with need inside of me.

Of all days for my heat cycle to rear its head, it had to be today. It had to be the day when eligible alphas from all over the country and abroad will fill this estate to the brim.

I’m out of pills, out of time, and out of fucks to give.

I just hope I don’t have to kill some motherfuckers tonight.

There’sno series of words in the English or Italian language that can accurately describe how much I don't want to be at this mating. I’m fucking seething. Mama sits next to me on my right, and it’s the first time I’ve laid eyes on her since this whole ordeal started.

It takes everything inside of me to stay in this seat instead of dragging her out of this fucking place. Of course, the wedding is being held at our estate, so really we didn’t even have to leave home.

As De Lucas, people come tous.

I flick my eyes to Mama, trying to be as discreet as possible, not wanting to bring any attention to the fact that I’m looking her over. She looks skinny—too skinny and there’s a slight bruising beneath her eyes that I’ve never seen before. She looks exhausted. I bite the inside of my cheek and curl my hands into tight fists. It kills me to see her this unkempt and I have to wonder if anyone else here sees it too.

She hasn’t said a word to me—barely even acknowledging my existence and I know that can’t mean anything good. Since the moment I sat down in this seat in the front row between her and Alpha Liam. I’ve kept my mouth shut tight, despite my need to scream like a banshee. A million different scenarios plague my mind's eye until I feel myself shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

I’ve been so angry with Mama for most of my life. It pissed me off that she was content to stand by while Rosa was sold off to that Russian pack, with barely a chance to say goodbye. Not to mention all the years she watched in silence while I was tested, trained, beaten and talked down to by the alphas. While they honed me into a killer since my cunt wasn’t useful to them yet.

I knew she could see the bruising on my skin every time the alphas had their men beat me when I did something wrong during training. I remember coming home from the shooting range sometimes with blisters on my fingers and tears in my eyes.

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