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5
ARIA
“Fuck yeah! I’m so goddamn proud of you!” Cayenne yells through the bar, making my cheeks heat. I swear everyone should have a friend like her—just not her, because this one is mine, and there is only one person in this entire world I would ever share her with. She’s sitting right beside us, her red hair softly moving as she shakes with laughter. Her bright blue eyes glimmer with amusement as she purses her lips.
“Shush,” I tell my insane bestie. “Cayenne.” I tug on her ribbed black dress to get her off the chair. Luckily, she is wearing sneakers and somehow makes them work with her dress. “Get down.”
“Fuck no.” She glares at me. She is already four shots deep, and her eyes are crystal clear. How the fuck does she drink like a fish, and it never shows? I have tolerance jealousy. “Hey, everyone!” she shouts to the dive bar.
I sink in my seat, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole, all while Ginger laughs with her entire body. Unfortunately for me, the bar listens to Cayenne because she looks like a runway model. Her curves are packed into a tight dress, and her long red hair kisses her ass. Yeah, she has the attention of every single person in this dive bar, including the women and especially the alphas, who are eyeing her up like she’s dinner.
“This little omega right here just graduated at the top of her class in cosmetology! She doesn’t pay for drinks or food tonight!” The entire bar erupts into cheers.
I just shake my head as Cayenne plops back in her seat, Ginger softly rubbing her shoulder. Of the three of us, I’m the only omega, so I get why she’s so excited. Most omegas don’t get any kind of continuing education, not since the moment people started perfuming years ago. We are one in a thousand.
I wanted something more out of life, and I swore I would never depend on any man or alpha. So far, I’m doing okay. I’m not thriving yet, but I’m determined to get there, and I will.
“What?” Cayenne scoffs. “If you aren’t going to celebrate yourself, then I will.”
Clearing my throat, I down the rest of my mint julep and stand, fixing my crop top as my pink hair drifts over my shoulder. “I need to adjust my plugs.”
“It’s a straight line from here to the bathroom.” Cayenne’s laughter instantly dissolves as she points down the hall directly beside us. She made a group of men move from this table the moment we got here, claiming it was the safest for me.
“It’s literally ten feet.” I point to the hall. “And then I’m going to go there.” I point at the bar. “And get a drink.”
“Don’t you dare pay for it,” Cayenne states.
“Hadn’t planned on it.” I kiss the air and push my chair in, excusing myself.
I damn near run to the bathroom and lock the door to the stall, slumping on the toilet to breathe, which I can’t even do, due to the scent plugs in my nose cutting everything off. They are amazing when I’m in public because they allow my senses to chill, but it’s disorienting being cut off from one’s senses.
I pop out one plug, then the other. They are magnetic, so when I get a hold of one, the other just falls into my hand. I take a deep breath, but with it comes the stench of the bathroom, immediately making me gag. The odors of urine, shit, blood, and vomit assault me. So much for breathing easier. Now I have to breathe through my mouth. Wonderful.
Pocketing the plugs, I use the toilet and then wash my hands. My gray eyes stare back at me in the mirror, both hopeful and exhausted, probably due to the alcohol and scent assault. My long hair, naturally blonde but currently dyed a bright pink, falls over my shoulders as I lean over the sink. Careful not to get my jeans wet, I maneuver the plugs back into my nose, cutting off all the smells in the bathroom.
I settle back on my heels and sniff myself, because even though I showered in hunter’s wash, I can still smell my slight scent of orange Creamsicle. It’s faint and luckily not overpowering. The scents of the dive bar mask most of my own natural scent. I fix my black crop top before noting that my C-cup breasts are trying to point in different directions and adjust the girls. Then I’m out the door and back into the bar.
I walk past our table and gently nudge Ginger, silently letting them know I’m heading to grab another drink. As I weave around tables in the dimly lit space, I push past a few people to lean on the bar top and flag down a bartender. I nearly fall into the bar when I trip over someone’s foot and crash into the edge. The wood presses into my breastplate too hard, knocking me off balance.
“Hey there.” Strong arms steady me, keeping me upright. They hold onto me gently as a voice booms, “Back the fuck up!”
“Yo, sorry, man,” someone slurs.
Blinking against the pain in my chest, I turn to find the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen gazing at me with concern. “Are you all right?” he asks.
Honestly, I think I lost my tongue, because I can’t speak. His whiskey scent washes over me, and just like whiskey, it warms my belly. I lick my lips. His eyes track the movement, and because I’m totally interested, I bite my bottom lip.
Oh alpha, my alpha. Yes, please.
His lips twitch, and his hands slide down my arms, making my nipples tighten. May the odds be ever in my favor, because I feel my pussy weep for this man. If I’m slicking, then everyone is going to smell me.
His eyes darken, and he arches a dark brown brow. I reach out because he has muscles for days, and I’m totally unsteady. Oops, I might just…fall into him.
“You did that on purpose,” he whispers against my cheek.
“I did,” I whisper in his ear. “Thanks for saving me.”
“I never could resist a damsel in distress.” His deep rumble rolls over my senses, blurring them. “I’m Noah.”
