Page 95 of Pack Rivals, Part One

"It's Bea," the omega corrects.

"Of course, sweetie," she says, like Bea may be confused about her own name. She leans into me, her grip tight on my bicep. "I know she's keen to meet all the new alphas in the city. She was telling us all about it the other day." Melody giggles. I frown. Melody is full of bullshit, she can't help stirring, but is this true? "I suppose there aren't many alphas back in … now which little town did you say you were from, Bea? Some adorable little place, I'm sure." She smiles at her patronizingly.

Bea glances up at me, her cheeks flushing darker, her amber eyes almost golden under the ballroom lights and full of something I can't read. "Naw Creek," she says, "I'm from Naw Creek."

My mouth falls open in surprise. "Naw Creek?" I repeat, "You're from Naw Creek?"

She nods.

Naw Creek. I was there for six months. I was fifteen. It was right before I had presented. And there had been this girl …

Melody's gaze flicks between us and she laughs, gripping my arm in her hands.

"It sounds so quaint. Have you actually heard of it, Connor?"

I open my mouth to answer, but then Melody swoons, collapsing towards the ground. Automatically, I catch her in my arms.

"Oh," she says, fluttering her eyelashes, "I feel all faint again. Max, would you fetch me some water?"

"Of course," he says, almost sprinting away.

"And Connor could you help me to a seat?"

I peer at Bea anxiously, but she shrugs her shoulders and smiles.

"I think you'd better help her."

Melody squeezes my arm and nudges me towards the seats.

"I feel so dizzy."

All eyes are on us and I can't leave her like this, faint and weak.

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere," I tell Bea and march Melody towards the rows of chairs.

"I hoped I'd see you tonight, Alpha," Melody murmurs to me. "It's been such a long time since we've seen each other."

"A very long time," I say. We helped her through a heat years back but we've avoided this girl ever since. Not that she's taken the hint. Like I said, no isn't a word she comprehends.

She lowers herself down into the seat, but doesn't let go of my wrist.

"Gosh," she says, "I don't know what happened." Her fingernails pinch my skin and she leans forward, giving me an eyeful of her cleavage.

"Take a rest. I'm sure you'll feel better when Max arrives with your water." I attempt to shake off her grip.

"Perhaps it was that scent." She pulls a face. "It's so sickly. Bess needs to sort out her medication. She can't be walking around getting up everyone's noses like that, especially when she smells so bad."

Melody smells like roses. I've heard others describe it as the most sophisticated of aromas. I've never been able to stand it. I remember how it irritated my nose all the way through her heat, how her taste was too floral for my liking.

I like tart. I like burned. I like caramel.

"Actually," I say, "I like her scent. I like her scent a lot."

Melody laughs, the sound one she's perfected, all high-pitched and cute. "You can't be serious, Connor? You can't be serious about her?"

I scowl at her. "I'm deadly serious about her."

Her smile turns cold. "That's not what I've heard."

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