Page 2 of The Gamma's Second Chance

“I bet you everything is fine,” Reid says, wrapping his tie around his neck. “I bet you twenty bucks you’re being dramatic about the full moon for no reason.”

I meet Wesley’s eyes in the mirror and blow out a long breath, rubbing the back of my neck. Wesley rolls his shoulders, his hands flexing and clenching again at his sides, a faint hint of his aura leaking from him again. I close my eyes and count to ten, using each breath to relax my muscles like my mom taught me to do before my piano recitals as a kid, a calming technique that’s stuck with me even as an adult.

“Add in doing the winner’s laundry for a week, and you’ve got a deal,” Sebastian says.

Reid smiles. “You’re on.”

Their hands slap together as they shake on it, both of them either oblivious to or ignoring my stress and Wesley’s growing ire. I press my palm against the glass, my heart in my throat, the room spinning, and their voices muffled from the blood rushing through my ears like wind over an open convertible. My stomach twists and revolts against my body. I clench my eyes shut and clamp my jaw down, grinding my teeth together.

“Did you really have to make that bet?” Wesley asks, his voice breaking through the cotton wool in my ears as he scolds Reid and Sebastian.

I force my eyes open, and they both finally look at me. Their laughter stops in an instant.

“Shit, no, I’m just kidding!” Reid says, his head pivoting between Sebastian and me, his messy, slightly too-long, dirty blond hair flying with the movement. “I take it back. Bet’s off.” His hand slices through the air, and Seb nods emphatically.

“It’s fine,” I grunt, pushing off from the mirror and stomping to the hotel suite door. “Let’s just go.”

I adjust my suit jacket and button it as I exit the room, the others following behind me in silence. Wes catches up to meeasily, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Just ignore them,” he says out of the side of his mouth. “They didn’t mean anything by it. They’re just…” He trails off, glancing at them over his shoulder and then pretending to observe the hotel decor in the hall as he tries to come up with some excuse for them.

“Being dickheads?” I supply, using our default insult. Or term of affection. The line between the two has blurred so much over the years, and I’m not sure if any of us can tell the difference anymore. Wes laughs, and my lips tilt into a smile of their own accord despite the unease I’ve experienced since checking in to the hotel earlier today. “It’s fine. Neither of them know I’ve been on edge since arriving. Seb is just speaking his mind, and Reid is just… being Reid.”

“Why are you so nervous?” he asks. “You’ve been itching to find your mate since the day you turned twenty-one.”

“I have. I want her more than anything,” I say, punching the down button for the elevator. “I can’t explain it, but it’s like Seb said—I have a bad feeling about tonight. Everything feels… off. Wrong.”

Wesley stares at me as I fiddle with my tie with shaking hands while we wait for the elevator. Reid and Sebastian bicker about Goddess only knows what, both of them already moving on from the discussion of whether or not tonight will end in disaster, both of them blissfully ignorant to the nauseating sense of wrong lurking around every corner. It seeps into my pores, raising the hair on the back of my neck and turning my stomach inside out with every breath I take and every step drawing me nearer to the event in the hotel’s ballroom.

I shove my hands in my pockets, mimicking Wesley’s stance and hiding their trembling from the eyes of the others. Wesley tracks the movement but doesn’t comment on it, instead turning to watch the numbers change above the elevator as it makes its way to us from the lobby.

The silence presses in on me like water pressure around a submarine as we stand there, neither of us saying anything. There is nothing to be said, really. Wesley could say there is nothing to worry about, but we both know speaking those words is a curse all its own. The curse of optimism. But admitting I’m right? Admitting Sebastian is right? Admitting that there is one hundred percent something that feels off about tonight? That would be equally damning.

The elevator dings, the door slides open, and I lead the way into the car. I turn and face the doors again as Reid pushes the lobby button, and the silence continues, the other two finally catching on to the mood.

“Why didn’t you say anything to us?” Wesley asks, letting out a sigh.

I shrug. “I was trying to blame it on the nerves. I felt like acknowledging it would just make it more real. And I didn’t want to bother you all with my unfounded anxiety.” I swallow and clench my fists in my pockets, letting my nails dig into my skin so I can focus on something other than my roiling gut. Then I sigh and shake my head and roll my shoulders. “It’s dumb. I’m being dramatic, I know.”

“You’re not being dumb or dramatic,” Wesley says as the elevator reaches the ground floor and the doors open to let us off. “It’s natural to want to find your mate and be antsy about it. Goddess knows I’m antsy to meet mine.” We file out of the elevator, and Sebastian glances over his shoulder at Wes with a raised brow and a look of incredulity. Wes narrows his eyes at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sebastian says, pressing his lips together and whipping his head around to face the front again.

“Listen.” Reid walks backwards, clapping his hands and then rubbing them together as he speaks. “Worst-case scenario: none of us finds a mate, and we all bring a lady friend up to our roomsfor a good time.” He claps his hands again and then holds them out to the sides, smiling, nodding, and looking at each of us for approval of his plan.

Wesley exhales through his nose and shakes his head, and I bite my tongue, holding back my laughter. Leave it to Reid to spin this to his advantage, using the prospect of females disappointed they didn’t find their mate to fill his sexual needs for the night.

Sebastian cocks his head to the side and walks sideways, facing Reid. “Wouldn’t the worst-case scenario for you be finding your fated mate?”

Reid laughs and throws his arm around Sebastian’s shoulders. “No, that would be the best-case scenario. Because then I could reject her on the spot and voilà! Reid’s a free agent.”

Sebastian grimaces and twists under Reid’s arm, freeing himself from his grasp, his nose remaining wrinkled as he smooths out his suit. “Please don’t ever refer to yourself in the third person again.”

“Why not?”

“Because it makes you sound like a dickhead.”

Reid stops in his tracks and gapes at him, and Wesley and I laugh, each of us clapping him on the shoulder as we maneuver around him and towards the hotel ballroom.

“If any of us is a dickhead, it’s you,” Reid retorts, finding his words and his footing again.

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