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Thats the term for feeling like your head is going to float away and the very real possibility you might throw up on someone’s $1000 shoes, right?
As I watch Declan turn away from the stage and follow a woman out of the ballroom, I don’t know if I’m closer to throwing up or screaming.
What is he doing?
We had a plan!
He doesn’t have to bite me or bond me. He doesn’t even have to touch me. But chasing after another woman while we’re in the middle of a public event? The same event we just used to launch my relationship with his pack?
I mean, I’m not stupid. I’ve always assumed he was engaged in some form of fuckery or another.
He’s Declan Howard.
And God knows he doesn’t want anything to do with me.
But he seriously couldn’t have waited until the end of the evening? He had to publicly humiliate me?
A rumble starts to creep through the crowd. People turn to look at our table. To look at me.
I know what they’re thinking. It’s what I’ve known from the moment I woke up in these alphas’ guest room: I am not enough for them. Not omega enough. Not refined or alluring enough. Not even enough to merit fidelity for a three-hour gala.
I think back to the way Declan kissed me when we came in—leaving absolutely no doubt that I belonged to him. Why did he do that if he had some sort of side piece around?
Was it all just to humiliate me?
How much more of this can I take?
At least a little bit, I tell myself. Because I may be getting better about honoring my instincts, but I’ll be damned if I run out of here in tears.
It’s nice that my years of emotional denial have actually come in handy, for once.
People murmur and titter, but I keep my head up and my eyes dry, breathing slowly through my nose and imagining I can smell Ronan’s smoke, Theo’s citrus, and Archer’s spice on every inhale.
Archer’s eyes are on my face as I force myself to sit up straight, strangling the whine building in my throat. His fingers wind into mine, squeezing hard enough to help me stay grounded. Theo shifts, his large frame blocking me from view.
Onstage, Ronan ad-libs a quick speech about their foundation and ends the evening by thanking all of their guests. I know there’s supposed to be a second portion of dancing, but I’m no longer in the spirit.
Archer senses my mood and has the car pulled around while Ronan makes his way back to our table. Our alpha’s eyes are molten silver, burning with rage, but when he sees my face, they instantly change, glowing with pride. He silently offers me his hand and pulls me up against him, kissing me in front of the entire room.
Twenty minutes, and a lot of handshakes later, Declan is nowhere in sight as the guys guide me into the back of the limo. We settle onto the bench seats. Because I rode between Ronan and Arch on our way to the venue, I scoot into Theo’s side this time. He instantly cuddles me into his big body and drops his face to my hair.
For a moment, there’s total silence. I can feel each of them thinking. Seething. Regretting.
It’s odd. After spending weeks constantly worrying that I won’t measure up, their collective silence should totally freak me out. But it doesn’t. After a moment, I realize that I can sense their moods so keenly, I know none of their negative feelings are directed at me. If anything, they’re all mortified that their packmate just put me through that.
I want to reassure them, so I force out words, even though my voice sounds small and frayed. “I thought of a charity.”
All three of them look at me, brows furrowed. Ronan speaks first. “For what?”
I try for a wobbly smile, meeting each of their eyes. “For me to support. Everyone in the pack gets to pick one right?”
Their collective relief is palpable. Archer’s brows draw up in shock. Theo exhales hard and nuzzles me harder. Ronan’s lips quirk into a half-smile. “That’s right, little one. Anything you want.”
For a moment, I hesitate. I always planned to tell them about my mom when we were all together. After tonight, I doubt Declan would care either way.
And…
I want them.
