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My ride pulls up to the front of Forever Matched with five minutes to spare.
I smooth my hands over my lap, grateful that the silky pink fabric of my dress hasn’t wrinkled. My hair is just as smooth, the black curls straightened and re-curled into perfect loose spirals, partially clipped off my face. Along with my usual makeup and the bright smile I’ve perfected, I hope I look like a girl eager to set up her future.
Because I am, I tell myself.
Who even knows whether I’m lying anymore?
Meg’s voice echoes in my ear, slightly distorted by my broken, old AirPods. “Are you there?! What does it look like?!”
My stomach is a jumble of jittery excitement and nauseous dread. When I peer out at the imposing, white office building looming over me, fear edges out the thrill.
“It’s, uh, big.”
“That’s what she said.”
“Megera Ash.”
“Remi Skyes.”
I smile despite myself, gathering my cardigan and purse. “I’ll call you after.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she chimes.
“Like going home with a group of alphas I don’t know?” I return, teasing her. “I would never.”
The call clicks off as my Uber pulls away. I blow out a deep breath, staring up at the impressive facade in front of me.
What on earth am I doing?
One moment of weakness, and now I’m here?! A girl should never make decisions while she’s sitting on the floor of her closet, wedged between a plate of cookies and her vibrator collection.
The omega urge to run and hide kicks and thrashes inside of me. Years of people-pleasing, and a pathological fear of disappointing anyone are the only things keeping my feet rooted to the sidewalk.
I made an appointment. I can’t just not show up…
Thankfully, the second I step inside, it’s clear this place was made for omegas. The lobby is a small, round alcove. Flowering plants and overstuffed chairs fill the dome-like space, giving the room a cozy feel despite the bright sunlight filtering through its skylights.
The second I enter, ten different scents hit me all at once. A prickle shivers over my skin while I adjust, my mind racing to catch up to the adrenaline blasting through my veins.
Oh, right. No neutralizers in here. They want alphas and omegas to scent each other.
I’m grateful the woman at the front desk is a scentless beta. She takes my name and smiles, typing a few words before she offers me a wide selection of beverages—from champagne to kombucha. There’s barely enough time for me to settle into a seat with my freshly brewed tea before one of the doors behind the desk opens.
A female alpha in a mint-green pantsuit steps through it, already beaming right at me. “Miss Skyes?”
I’ve always liked female alphas. Male alphas tend to be openly aggressive, but their female counterparts often channel their inherent dominance wisely. Usually, they’re extremely organized and diligent in their care of others. Their no-nonsense authority was a common influence in the group homes I grew up in.
She watches me stand and carefully collect my bag and teacup, waiting patiently while I gain my balance before offering her hand.
“I’m Celine,” she says, grinning. “I’ll be the one working with you today.”
The faint scent of eucalyptus rises off her chest, tinged with the distinct edge of nope that tells me she’s already bonded. I notice a claiming mark along the side of her neck, nearly hidden behind her smooth blonde bob.
Her smile grows as she reaches up to gesture at it. “You’ll see that I’m a big believer in our system. It’s how my pack met our omega. That was ten years and three kids ago, and I’m still obsessed with her.” She laughs lightly, “At least, she’d say so. I’d prefer to say I’m madly in love with her.”
Obsessed sounds like a word Meg would jokingly use to describe her guys. I grin at the thought, pleasantly surprised not to feel a twinge of envy at the thought of happily bonded packs. In its place, there’s a hum of anticipation.
Maybe—maybe this will work.
