Page 7 of Why Cruise

The people were the real target-rich environment.

One of those glittering omegas floated across the deck. She was tiny, wearing an even tinier dress, little more than a sequined handkerchief tied around her neck. She already had a swarm around her, alphas, betas, men, women, even omegas.

Her name was Aria. A paragon. An omega who couldn’t bond, which of course made her the most desirable thing walking this earth. A lucky few paragons ruled Port Haven’s upper crust from the Floating District. She was the host of this cursed boat and all the desperate souls seeking salvation in packs.

She was tempting. And that wasn’t about her biology. Metaphysics? Whatever the fuck we called that which made us alpha, beta, or omega. She had money and connections, but she was a favored pet of the Knightbridges, the pack that founded Port Haven and owned both the Floating and Mired Districts. Which basically put her off limits. Pity. Saved me from throwing myself at her like the fools in front of me.

I had spent the better part of last week scouring social media for every scrap of information I could find. They made it too easy. There were multiple PackSpace groups. People saved all year for Bond Voyage, apparently.

A table crashed to the ground on our right. Tommy jumped. Two alphas were being cajoled and placated to back away and have another drink. The staff started a conga line to diffuse the tension. Alphas were unpredictable, especially when not part of a pack. There were pages and pages in the boat FAQ about state-of-the-art pheromone dampening technology and containment protocols for alphas who got too out of hand.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

The packs were obvious to pick out of the crowd. They formed little circles in the center of the deck. The economic status was more mixed than I expected. This was a travel day for most, so no one was dressed in their finest. It was a lot of cargo shorts and defunct band t-shirts on the bottom end of the economic scale, and polo shirts and board shorts as you went up the food chain.

The women were more interesting. Every omega had seemed to find time to change and do their makeup. They stood out like maraschino cherries in the fruit salad, all bright and juicy. Icringed inwardly, fighting a wave of nausea, feeling the boat rock under me.

Aria swept by again, her fans clearing space and dragging half the crowd in her wake. She was being called to the mic for some welcome speech nonsense that I completely tuned out. Love on the high seas was not in my future.

I could see the bar across the deck now. There was quite a bit of jockeying for position to get the bartenders’ attention. Amateurs.

Hanging on to the literal corner of the bar were two omegas, obviously pack mates by how they leaned into each other, sharing space, close enough for their auras to mingle. They shared a frozen drink with two straws. Her brown hair cascaded over one shoulder, catching the golden sunset. She twirled the ends in her fingers. His fist was balled and jammed into his pocket, maybe to stop himself from running his fingers nervously through his mussed blond hair. They made their own private island in a sea of chaos around them. Obviously waiting for their alphas.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

Tommy perked up beside me and pointed with his chin. Gaston and Catherine caught his eye from the other side of the deck with that pack mojo they shared.

I downed the rest of my drink and knew immediately it was a bad idea. The booze just turned my stomach further. I looked back at the pair of omegas. He had an arm protectively around her, keeping her safe from the mob at the bar, while she teetered on tiptoes to whisper into his ear. I looked down into my empty cup and grimaced. It had been too sweet and did not at all complement the waves of seasickness that were rolling in. That was preferable to acid burning a hole in my stomach from the constant threat of death and worse, infecting my life right now. Being blackmailed was not good for your health.

“Let’s get to work,” I said to Tommy, using all my alpha strength to not make a b-line for those two omegas at the bar.

Theo

“Oh, shit,” I said, catching Mackenzie’s elbow to keep her on her feet. “The stupid carpet.”

“Bad carpet!”

“Yes, let’s blame the carpet and not the drinks.”

“Right, we are not drinks. I mean drunks. I mean drunk.”

“Totally not.”

We nodded solemnly before bursting into giggles. Mackenzie leaned her back against the wall and fanned herself.

“Is it hot? I’m hot. Are you hot?”

“It’s the scents. Too many alphas smelling too damn good,” I admitted, putting my hand on the wall for balance.

“Oh, shit, my bag!” Mackenzie stood and swayed.

“You stay here. I’ll go get it. You must have left it at the table.” I handed her the drink.

I wove my way back to the deck. The party was still going strong, but Mackenzie had decided she needed a break. Good thing, too. Adjusting my jeans, I tried to ignore the drinks, the alphas, and Mackenzie’s yummy scent—all of which had left mydick hard and uncomfortable. I focused on my feet and the path back to our table. Her purse was right where we’d left it.

It was a small clutch bag with a loop for your wrist. It was only just larger than my hand. Its slight weight threw off my balance. Yeah, that was it—not the raging boner and all the drinks.

I pushed on the exit door, but it didn’t budge.Dummy, pull, not push.My feet decided not to go in the same direction as I stumbled through the door and right into an alpha doubled over. His dark scent made my head spin even faster. It had a sharp edge like pepper. Not a hint of sweetness.

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