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Hey, girlfriend. How's your day? Got something wonderful for you. You're invited to an awesome charity event at a gallery next Saturday. Decline is not an option. We need to spend time together and have some fun.
I'll be working, I texted back immediately.
Lydia's response came quickly. Take the day off. You have plenty of annual leave, don't you? Please, pretty please? This means a lot to me. I miss you so much. I can't even remember the last time we hung out.
The last time we hung out was last weekend, when we went to some fancy restaurant with Nora and Amanda, and Lydia had to pay for my meal because I couldn't afford it, which was embarrassing. Nora had snorted and commented, “It must suck to be so poor,” which caused Lydia to jab her at the elbow for being so inconsiderate with her words.
Another text came. There will be tons of people dressing up for the event. It's like a black-tie sort of thing.
Reluctance warred with curiosity inside me until curiosity won out. I did love events for their fashion, after all.
I replied, Okay. I'll ask for half a shift off.
Her excitement bubbled through her next message about coming over to her place after work so we could get ready together—she had picked out a beautiful dress for me.
A beautiful dress? The fatigue that weighed on my bones lightened just a touch at the thought. Maybe there'd be something enchanting about next Saturday after all.
As I succumbed to sleep, my thoughts lingered on what my dress would look like, wishing my dreams would mirror such visions. What came to me instead were dreams of twin alphas chasing after me, treating me as prey, while they, the hunters—alpha poised to mark me as theirs—overwhelmed me with their heady scents and their robust forms engulfing me. They took me, as that alpha had taken me that time, and I, in fervent desire, had yielded, longing to be possessed and marked.
I jolted awake, my heart pounding and my body covered in a sheen of sweat. The dream had felt so real—the pounding footsteps, the hot breath on my neck, the twin alphas chasing me through a dark forest. Even now I could still smell their musky scents, feel their hungry eyes on me.
Shaken, I climbed out of bed on unsteady legs, making my way to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face, taking deep breaths to calm my rattled nerves. It was just a dream, I told myself. Just a silly nightmare, nothing more.
When I felt steady enough, I returned to my bedroom and picked up my sketchpad and pencils. Drawing always soothed me, allowing me to lose myself in the swirl of colors and lines. I began roughly sketching dress designs, trying to capture the visions dancing through my mind.
If I could save up enough, I would build a small sewing studio and bring these designs to life. It was a nearly impossible dream on my meager wages, but I clung to the hope that somehow, someday, I'd have my clothing label. A tiny seed of possibility to keep me going.
Page after page I filled, until the first light of dawn crept across my bedroom walls. My alarm would be blaring soon, another day calling.
I shuffled to the kitchen, my body heavy with fatigue. A single slice of bread and a thin scraping of jam would have to suffice for breakfast today. The bitter taste of the suppressant pill I dutifully swallowed made my empty stomach churn.
After a quick shower, I was out the door, coffee thermos in hand. The caffeine would keep me functional until I could sneak in a nap on my break.
* * *
Crossing the street to the café, my head swam with exhaustion. I didn't see the sleek black car until it was nearly upon me, tires screeching as it ground to a halt just inches from my body.
I stumbled back in shock, my heart hammering as the driver flung open his door.
“Are you all right?” the man asked, grasping my arm to steady me. I could hear the worry in the deep timbre of his voice—a voice that made my body react in ways I didn't want it to react. And his touch, that hand that held my arm.
I was instantly paralyzed as electric currents coursed through my body. His scent, which was musky and virile—very alpha—washed over me, and I felt my head spin.
My body reacted instinctively, heat pooling low in my belly as I inhaled that intoxicating aroma. Mortified, I fumbled for my face mask, wanting to hide my features and muffle my own traitorous pheromones.
“I'm fine,” I mumbled, pulling away from his touch. His hand fell away reluctantly as I took off running for the café, desperate to escape.
“You look dreadful,” was Blair's greeting to me. “Didn't get much sleep last night?”
I nodded and went to the back to drop off my bag. Back at the front, I slung my apron on, the fabric familiar against my skin as I settled into the routine of my shift.
The café hummed with the low murmur of customers and the clinking of cups. I moved with mechanical precision, brewing coffee, steaming milk, and smiling at patrons while keeping an eye on the door, praying no alphas would walk in with their strong pheromones that send my senses into a frenzy.
I stifled a yawn as I wiped down the steam wand on the espresso machine. The busy morning rush had finally tapered off, leaving the café quiet. My exhausted body was begging for a break, just a quick catnap to recharge.
Luckily, the midday lull was the perfect time to sneak in a short rest. I let Blair know I was taking my lunch and headed to the tiny staff room in the back. Kicking off my shoes, I settled onto the lumpy couch with my sweater balled up as a makeshift pillow. My eyes drifted shut almost instantly.
What felt like mere seconds later, Blair was shaking my shoulder gently. “Sorry, hon, break's over.”
