Page 108 of Claiming the Pack's Omega
Fuck, I look like shit. I can’t believe I let them see me like this.
The bags that have been under my eyes ever since this morning are revealed underneath the patchy, streaky areas where my tears have made my concealer fade. That, plus the mascara that started running too.
I look like a wild, rabid raccoon.
Makeup has been my shield, my armor, ever since I started this work when I first turned 18. It’s almost like it’s become apart of me. At home, I never wore any, because that was how I separated Reyna from Raine.
Now I’m balancing between this strange limbo because I’mlivingwithfour alphas.
Four alphas I’m very much attracted to.
Four alphas I want to look my best for.
I dig through my makeup bag and pull out a makeup wipe, furiously scrubbing at my face. It’s probably bad for my face, but I don’t give a shit right now.
When I’m done, there are still remnants of my dark eyeliner around my eyes and my skin is a little pink.
I want a shower. I need to cleanse myself of all these ridiculous fantasies that I’m capable of having something real with this pack.
I settle for splashing some cold water on my face to try and ground myself.
Dom’s last few text messages replay over and over through my brain.
I don’t know what game you’re fucking playing, but a Southside omega whore like you is only ever good for one thing. Just because you’re throwing your lot in with Northside alphas doesn’t mean they’re going to save you.
The Graylock Pack seems to be infatuated with me so far, but when they learn about my past, will they realize I have too much baggage to deal with and leave?
Even if they manage to stick around, once they’re done with me after this whole court case, once I no longer have any use to them, is that when they’ll leave?
I think the very fact I’m cataloging and mentally preparing myself for all the possible instances of when they’d leave is a bad sign. Maybe that’s what’ll get them to leave me eventually.
They’re good guys. Really good guys. Even if things don’t work out between us, they haven’t given me any indication thatthey’d jeopardize my family’s safety, or take away the things they’ve gifted us, in exchange for my help in the trial.
But that means the only thing left on the line is my heart.
I pat my face dry with the softest towel I’ve ever felt against my skin before looking at myself in the mirror again.
Am I willing to risk heartbreak all over again?
I swallow hard, digging through my makeup bag. I’ve survived heartache and betrayal once, I can do it again. I’veneverfelt the way I do about this pack. Why ruin a possible good thing before it’s even started? It’s not like I have to bond with them, or anything.
I can’t go out, bare-faced, but I don’t think I need to do the heavier makeup I’m used to. I settle for a lip tint and a little more mascara. They’ll have the privilege of seeing my eye bags tonight, I guess.
I make my way downstairs to see Theo rummaging around the fridge, a whole spread of ingredients he’s already pulled out on the kitchen island.
“So, what’s the plan for tonight, Mr. Chef?” I ask, leaning against the entrance to the kitchen.
He smirks at me over my shoulder.
“Unfortunately, I’ve gotta appeal to the taste of the guys here, so there’s still going to be steak, but I was thinking shrimp scampi.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s fancy as fuck.”
I don’t think I’ve ever had shrimp scampi. We never earned enough to afford going out to eat and the idea of paying for any sort of fish or seafood that doesn’t come out of a can is scary.
“I’ve got a beautiful omega to wow," he shrugs, taking out a few pieces of what I assume to be steak, wrapped in fancy butcher paper.
Damn, they must shop at the bougie grocery stores too, if their meat doesn’t come in a styrofoam container wrapped in plastic.
