Page 42 of Small Town Shy Omega
Jupiter shone brightly, competing with the moon.
The soup was warm in my belly, and I felt well-nourished. Everything in my body felt centered, whole, and right.
The stars were bright and magnificent. Pink hues spread across the sky, blending with lingering puffy clouds.
The Alphas pointed out the constellations for me.There’s the Little Dipper,Blake whispered in my ear, and I felt like he was a bard teaching me a lesson.
I’d looked up at these stars many times. I didn't know much about them.
I wasn’t a stargazer.
I… was a book nerd, not a star nerd.
Never had I felt so small. In front of so much natural beauty, I felt so worthless.
How had I never truly looked at the stars?
Dreydon, Josh, and Blake told me all about the stars. And constellations. And various facts I didn't know.
Blake told me the myth of Perseus, who rescued Andromeda from a sea monster who threatened to eat her. The beautiful princess was chained to a cliff, and he saved her.
Blake pointed out Perseus and Andromeda in the night sky. I wondered if I’d ever get my own constellation.
I sniffed the air, smelling something like spring blossoms, or the earthy undertones of the forest. Or pink raspberries.
What… was that?
Something was changing inside me, something rugged and feral. My impressions of the night shifted. Was it the Alphas’ scent reaching my nose, or my own? No, Blake smelled like cinnamon and sugar, I recalled. And Dreydon let off whiffsof deep espresso. I’d never sniffed anything purer or more beautiful.
Tears welled in my eyes, and I wished the pack would sweep me in their arms, and press me against their rugged, strong chests. They were like pirates, I thought. Warriors or hitmen. Timeless kings.
Their chests were so muscular and firm, I’d never feel unworthy of love again—if only I could be pressed against them. Just to rub my cheek against their strength. Find Dreydon’s hand and rub my face in it.
The smell dissipated, and the Alphas didn’t gather me into their arms. I wondered if I just smelled a scent that floated in on a breeze.
The Alphas led me back to my cottage. We enjoyed hot rhubarb tea and sherbet cookies.
Blake took me fishing again,and this time I caught a muskie—and we actually cooked it. A crackling fire warmed my face, and after eating our fish we shared a can of beans.
“Picked up this habit in England,” Blake growled, passing me the beans.
I made a face but ate them. “They’re sweet.”
“Yeah, I was backpacking through the Lake District, and after getting caught in a rainstorm in Grasmere, the poet Wordsworth’s hometown actually, all that was open was a little corner store. They had nothing nutritious. I bought a can of beans.”
Rain trickled softly overhead, and I rested my head against Blake’s shoulder. I inhaled a rich, sugary scent, and warmth and relaxation washed over me.
When we returned to my cottage Dreydon was sculpting a wooden log with a chainsaw. “Layla.” He tipped his chainsaw at me.
“Whatcha making?” I peeped at Dreydon.
“You,” Dreydon growled, revving the chainsaw once again. “Your land doesn’t have a statue of a goddess on it. I’m sculpting you.”
“Oh,” I said softly, walking into my cottage with Blake.
The statue… was so amazing, and it brought tears to my eyes.
But then terror barreled through me, because what if Dreydon used it to obligate me to him?
