Page 73 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"But it didn't work out that way," I prompt.

"No. When I hit sixteen, I presented as an omega. And your mom, well she never did. It was clear she was a beta. It created this impassable chasm between us. Set me on a different path. And she never forgave me for it."

"But it wasn't your fault."

"Your mom didn't see it that way. She wanted me to stay in Naw Creek regardless. She didn't understand the need I had inside me to find my alphas – one I'm sure you feel too." She glances at me.

I shrug, my cheeks heating. "I don't know about that."

My aunt smiles and focuses back on the road. "Your mom assumed I'd grown 'ideas above my station'. That I considered myself 'too good for Naw Creek'." My aunt makes quotation marks with her fingers, but I already know that sounds exactly like my mom. I haven't told her about my situation yet. She's not going to take the news particularly well.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"Yes, well, I said things I shouldn't have too. We were both to blame."

"Have you ever considered–"

"Making up? The water is too far gone under that bridge now."

I glance at her. "I don't think it's ever too late. Not when it's your family."

The hotel is another elegant one with a collection of expensive cars hovering outside to deliver rich-looking ladies to the entrance. I gulp. Missy and I are going to look out of place here. In fact, so is my aunt. From what I've learned so far, most omegas belong to rich families or are bonded to rich men. My aunt and Doctor Hannah seem to be two rare exceptions.

I guess I'm joining that fun exclusive club.

I park up and we walk into the hotel lobby, my nose immediately assaulted by the concoction of scores of omega scents. They are nothing like the scents of alphas. Too sweet. Too floral. Too sickening. They make my nose itch and my stomach lurch.

My aunt spots the look of displeasure on my face.

"It's always worse when you first step in – and when you aren't bonded." Another reason to add to the list of why-an-omega-ought-to-be-bonded-to-an-alpha. Inwardly I groan.

"Great," I murmur. "Guess I'll be holding my breath all night then."

"Or breathe through your mouth," my aunt says, not registering my sarcasm.

We reach a large room already decorated with floral arrangements, the flowers masking the omega scents a little, and my aunt stops to talk to another older lady by the door. I peek around the room while she does. This is a million miles away from the diner back home, or Joe's Bar. There it was all scruffy jeans and baseball caps. Here it's designer handbags and matching shoes.

Nearly all the tables are already full; flowers laid out across the tabletops ready for the class. The omegas chat to one another, showing off those handbags, their manicures and outfits.

"Let's go in," my aunt says.

As we step through the doorway, every pair of eyes snap my way and I'm scrutinized like I'm here to try out for cheerleaders.

"Hi," I mumble, my cheeks warming. Do I have spinach in my teeth? Mascara on my cheek?

"This is Bea, everyone," my aunt announces, pushing me through the door. The faces stare back and nobody says a word. Except I spot one woman lean in to her friend and watch as her lips whisper, "That's the new girl in town."

Well, it's a lot better than being labeled the girl-who-got-dumped-at-the-altar. I'll take it.

My aunt swings her gaze around the room as everyone continues to glare at us, then, spotting a group of women my age, marches me in their direction.

"Hello ladies," she says, her hand gripping my wrist as if she knows I want to bolt. "This is my niece. She is new to the city," someone snorts like that was obvious, "and only recently presented."

If these women found my appearance shocking, they find that snippet of juicy information even more so. Their mouths drop open and their eyes bulge like insects.

"Only just presented?" one asks in dismay, leaning away from me like I might have something that's catching. My aunt pushes me down into an empty chair. "How is that even possible?"

My aunt doesn't respond, weaving her way through the tables towards a group of less wealthy-looking omegas her own age.

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