Page 2 of Happy Halloween, Omega
I don’t make a habit of clubbing; it’s too risky with so many bodies grinding together. Halloween is the exception. I love Halloween despite the role it plays in most of the big moments in my life. There’s always a mystery of some sort to solve at the end of the night. Who puked in the neighbor’s garden? Me. Who took all the full-sized candy bars from their ‘help-yourself’ bucket? Me, again.
I narrow my eyes and act like I can’t hear him. Usually I’m good at disappearing into a crowd, but it’s a little too late to dart away now without drawing even more attention to myself. So I keep dancing to keep up the charade of nonchalance. Inside, I’m scheming. My mother’s voice echoes in the back of my head, reminding me of her number one rule,‘stay aware of your surroundings.’
Her voice is always there, telling me what to do and how to do it. I wish I could block her out. I wish a lot of things were different.
“What are you supposed to be, baby?”
I blink at him, ire rising rapidly in my chest. Is this guy serious? I’m fucking Catwoman! Every inch of this costume is accurate, down to the silver cat-shaped buckle on the belt. I’m far more enraged that he can’t tell what my outfit is than by his weak attempts to hit on me.
I consider telling him I’m a fortuneteller and his future features a cat kicking him in the balls, but that would break rule number two:‘don’t stand out.’
I don’t know why I still follow her stupid rules. My mother doesn’t control me anymore, and it’s not like I haven’t already broken the rule by coming out tonight. It might be worth drawing unwanted attention for the chance to put this douche-bag in his place.
I look up at his dumb expression. I heave an exasperated sigh and roll my eyes, muttering to myself, “Nope, not worth it.”
As I turn back to the DJ, I see him.
A dark figure in the sea of riotous color.
I inhale sharply.
An Alpha.
He’s standing deathly still in the thrashing crowd behind the clueless Beta, his arms folded over a barrel-sized chest and his legs planted in a wide stance. The Alpha is easily a foot taller than everyone else here, lording over the thrumming crowd effortlessly. A skull mask covers his eyes and nose, and the rest of his exposed, chiseled features are painted to complete the skeleton. He’s gorgeous. The muscles in his arms and chest bulge against his shirt. Dark brown hair buzzed short on the sides make his jawline appear sharp.
My mouth goes dry. Screw the Beta.Thisis the real threat.
He’s wearing a black tactical stab vest with all black clothing beneath. His bare hands are painted the same black and white as his face, creating the white bones of a skeleton. A holster with a gun is strapped to his thigh. His stoic gaze is locked on me.
I’m rooted to the spot, transfixed by the way the strobe lights reflect in his dark eyes.
The gun is fake. Right? It’s Halloween, and people carry fake guns as part of their costume. Something tells me there is nothing fake about the Alpha staring unblinkingly at me.
“You want to dance?” the sleazy Beta asks, sidling closer with each pound of the baseline.
“No,” I say, my voice coming out shrill, and I wrinkle my nose at the weakness.
“Why not?”
“I’m busy.”
I’m still dancing, but I’m distracted. My eyes dart back to the looming Alpha constantly. He hasn’t moved an inch and his eyes are still locked on me. Can he tell? Surely not. I took my suppressant pill this morning. I know I did.
“I’m pretty sure you aren’t busy,” the Beta says with a grin.
He reaches for me, and I dodge his touch. My mother’s third rule.‘Don’t let them touch you.’
I flinch as his hand wraps around my wrist, dragging me forcefully towards him.
“Fuck off, dude. I’m not interested,” I shout, swatting at his hand like the cat I’m dressed as. The claws on my costume are hard points of plastic, but they’re useless as a weapon.
“What? I can’t hear you.” He’s still smiling, still tugging at me, thinking my resistance is all a big joke.
Panic bubbles up inside me and I try to jerk away, but the grip only tightens, and my delicate bones protest.
I glare at him. “I said fuck off, you swashbuckling dickbag.”
“I can’t hear you,” he shouts again, leaning in close. “You should come back to my place. It’ll be quieter there.”
