Page 3 of A Very Knotty Halloween
“Huh,” Sabrina whispers to me as two to three dozen alphas stroll in. “That’s a twist. I didn’t know they’d be wearing masks.”
“How are you supposed to decide whether you like them?” I ask.
“By scent alone, I guess,” she replies. “Kind of cool. I’m down. Besides, look at those bodies. Do you even need to see what their faces look like?” She’s practically drooling, and none of the alphas have come close to us yet.
“Yeah,” I mutter, knowing my friend isn’t listening to me. “Faces would be nice.” Who cares about a smoking body? It’s theface you’ll spend the rest of your life looking at, so it needs to be decent, at least. I know tonight isn’t about forever, but it’s hard to get that word out of my head when it’s been so ingrained into me ever since I presented as an omega.
Omegas don’t do hookups. That’s what society would have you believe, anyway. The reality, like most realities, is much messier. Kids fool around, do things they shouldn’t, thinking they’re adults once they present as their designation. Omegas act out, wanting to have fun before they’re locked down. Alphas want to throw their dominance around, all growly, whenever they can just to show off.
Messy. Life is messy. You’d think it wouldn’t be, but it is. It always is.
“Good luck,” Sabrina whispers to me before breaking away and approaching a group of alphas all on her own—she’s got balls. My friend is an omega with the spirit of an alpha.
A quick survey of the ballroom tells me most alphas have already gravitated toward omegas; I’m not sure if there’s an even number of alphas to omegas or an even number of packs. Sure looks like there are more alphas in the ballroom than there are omegas, but it’s dark and I’m short, so it’s kind of hard to tell now that giants are in the room.
My nose is assaulted by a hodgepodge of scents, all musky alpha scents vying for supremacy. It’s not bad, but it is an overload of my sense of smell. I’m not the kind of omega who preens under the attention of alphas, so I turn around and decide to get myself something to drink. I’ll go grab a table and watch the show. I doubt any alpha will want a total wallflower when they could have someone like Sabrina for the night.
I grab a cup and fill it with what must be fruit punch, then I’m seconds from turning around and heading to an empty table to slowly sip my drink… except I don’t. I stand there, motionless, asa particular smell hits me like a brick wall, so hard the breath is knocked right out of me and I feel a little dizzy.
That scent. Like burnt marshmallows over a campfire, with just a hint of vanilla. It’s a unique scent that instantly puts me on edge—because I know I smelled it before.
“Well, well,” a low voice speaks behind a mask, “Marnie Blare. Surprised you’re here. Didn’t know dear old daddy let you come to things like this.” He mocks me somewhat, just like he mocks my dad. He’s never liked me or my dad, that’s why.
My spine snaps straight, and I gather what willpower I can before I turn around and meet the eyes peeking out from the eyeholes of the mask. Bright blue eyes, even in the dimness of the ballroom. A head of thick, blond hair atop a six-foot-four über alpha, with the shoulders and arms to match. He wears some kind of barbarian outfit, showing off his sculpted muscles and the eight pack of abs on his stomach.
It’s been years since I’ve seen him, since the wedding, since the day he told his mom he would rather live with his dad than move in with her new family. With me.
“Casper,” I say his name with a forced frown. Casper Felton, AKA my stepbrother. Funny thing is, I remember his smell being overpowering, but I sure as shit don’t remember it making me so weak in the knees before.
Then again, we were kids. I was a fresh-faced omega, while he was not too far ahead in his alpha designation. When you first present, it’s a slow process to become a true alpha and a true omega. It’s why an omega’s heat isn’t until her twenty-first birthday. A thirteen-year-old omega won’t trip and fall over herself when faced with an alpha, and neither will a fifteen-year-old alpha when faced with a young omega. Again, nature’s way of making sure kids don’t latch onto people they shouldn’t when they’re too young.
“It’s Cas,” he corrects me, slowly tilting his head as he studies me. He stands two feet away, and yet it feels like he’s mere millimeters, drowning out the rest of the ballroom and blocking out my view with his wide chest. “Seriously, does your dad even know you’re here?”
I roll my eyes at him. “You act like I’m such a goody-goody. You don’t know me, Cas.”
“No, I guess I don’t.” I swear I hear him breathe out a growl that threatens to send a shiver down my spine. I want to step closer to him, want to feel that growl reverberate in my own chest. I want to take my hand and—
What the hell am I thinking? By some twist of fate, my estranged stepbrother is here, we exchange three words, and I’m ready to pounce on him like I’m dying of thirst and he’s a tall drink of water? Sabrina must have rubbed off on me in the worst way, because never would I ever do that normally.
“Well,” I manage to hiss out the word and sound totally unwelcoming, “whatever.” Yeah, I think I sound mean, but I probably only end up sounding lame and awkward. I don’t linger there; I can’t. If I do, I might just do something I’ll regret, like lick my lips and show my stepbrother that I find his scent delicious.
It’s way more overpowering now than it was when we were younger. Then it was easy to ignore. Now? In that brief interaction, it somehow seeped its way into every pore, made my heart beat faster, my blood pump quicker.
The only thing I can do to keep my sanity is to walk away from him. I grip my cup so hard I might crack the plastic as I hurry to an empty table and collapse. Now that I’m seated and far enough away from Cas to think clearly, the reality of the situation dawns on me.
Ugh, crap. He could tell his mom, who would tell my dad. I’d probably get in trouble for doing something stupid. I guess I ama goody-goody, because that thought makes me nervous. I don’t like getting in trouble. Maybe it’s the omega in me.
I’m far enough away from where I left Cas that he’s not in my field of view, which is good. I lean back in the chair and take a small sip of the fruit punch. It feels weird to drink from a cup with these fake teeth on, but I manage.
To my utter disappointment, an alpha comes strolling over and takes a seat next to me. Though his mask covers his face, I can practically feel him smiling through it as he looks at me. A mop of reddish hair sits on his head, an inch or two too long, and a pair of light, hazel eyes stare out at me from beneath the mask. He wears a pirate costume that’s perhaps a bit too snug on his body to be comfortable.
“Hi,” he says, and the moment he speaks, his scent hits me: cinnamon laced with something sweet, almost like pumpkin spice with a bit more spice.
“Hi,” I mimic him, taking another sip from my cup. Maybe he’ll get the hint and leave me alone. Or maybe not.
“I’m Jack,” he says, clearly not picking up any hints.
“Hi, Jack. I’m Marnie.” I don’t know why I tell him my name, but the moment I think better of it, it’s too late. My mouth is two steps ahead of my brain, and once my name is out there, I can’t take it back.
