Page 7 of Bonds and Beasts

When we went into her office six months ago and told her we were done with acting, she cycled from disbelief to bargaining to furious. She's been trying to get us to reconsider ever since. But we've held firm. We had a few last contracts to uphold and we'd be done. Our current project, a small town thriller movie, is the last one. After this, no more.

"Come on, she has to accept it eventually. This is our last gig. She's realized she's lost," Easton reasons. I love my packmates like brothers. We met while auditioning as young teenagers for a tv show that didn’t make it past the pilot but we clicked and started auditioning for pack roles. Easton's my age, twenty-six, yet he's somehow retained his trusting nature through our ten years of Hollywood grime. I'm both glad and a little jealous.

"This place is nice," Easton points out.

I grunt in affirmation.

"We've been grinding so hard toward getting out of the business that we forgot to actually put down roots somewhere else." Bello puts down his cards and Easton and I groan. I deal next.

"It has everything we talked about," I point out. "Small town, but close enough to places like Traverse City and Lakeside Point. Pretty tourist areas. I love the shoreline."

"It's not the ocean," Easton half mumbles.

"It's better than the ocean. No salt in the water, no deadly things trying to eat your toes. Plus there's seasons here," I insist. We'd been talking about places like Maine and Washington state. We're sick of palm trees and bare sun every day.

We talk it over a while longer. More hands are dealt. Chatter turns into tired silence until we finally call it and head up to our guest rooms.

Sleepy grunts of goodnight are exchanged as we reach for our individual doors. As we're about to go in, we pause. A high keening whine, an omega whine, is coming from the end of the hall. From behind the red door.

Adison

Everything inside of me is screaming. My omega has lost it and I don't understand why. Ever since I saw the alphas in the driveway, forcing me to flee back into the manor, she's been frantic.

Please, please calm down. I tell myself desperately. I can hardly do anything. My body feels not my own. I'm curled on my big four-poster bed, clutching my stomach. My nerves are on fire. The mattress shakes with the tremors racking through my body. I need. I need so badly. Touch.

The thought winds around my mind, sinking into my soul, and that's when the whines start. Soul-deep cries climb up my throat against my will, up from my diaphragm, one after the other. High pitched and uncontrollable.

My eyes shoot to my bedroom door. Beyond it and down the hall is the red door. The only one separating me from the alphas. This place has soundproofing, but true omega whines can cut through almost anything.

I bury myself under mounds of blankets and comforters as every part of me feels as though it's falling apart.

Bello

As a lead alpha, the whines of an omega slice directly to my core. My inner alpha lunges, loosing partial control from me.

"Bello, you okay?" Easton's voice already sounds far away, but I shake myself and pull it together. I'm the sensible one. Both of my packmates are standing in the hall with me, waiting for me to decide what to do. We're supposed to be alone in this house. There isn't supposed to be anyone here, let alone an omega in distress.

"Yeah," I rough out, "we need to see what that is."

Easton nods, but Dean looks incensed. "We know what that is. An omega. It's probably some crazed fan who broke in. We should call the police."

I bare my teeth at him, flexing my dominance. His chin tips back in a show of submission. "You feel like our pack can't handle one omega? They sound like they're in pain. We check it out and then decide what to do."

Dean bares his teeth. I don't normally assert dominance, and he's angry I have. It's understandable. I'm not sure why I have either. His idea is sound. I know it is. All I can say is my alpha won't let me call in others like the police. He snaps within me, setting my teeth on edge with the need to run toward those whines, to tear apart everything between them and me.

The idea of other alphas—even emergency service ones—getting in my way feels like a recipe for a bloodbath. This isn't me. I'm normally the most levelheaded of the pack. The most even-keeled. But right now I feel like a storm.

We make our way up the hall, stopping directly in front of the red door. My dream comes flashing back—the door cracked, the half-dead roses climbing out. I shake it off and reach for the knob. It turns easily and the door swings open.

The scent of roses hits me, and I'm gone.

Easton

Bello is gone. I see it happen the moment the door swings open. From behind, his frame goes rigid. Every muscle pulls taut. He almost seems to grow an inch.

"Bello?" I say his name, hoping beyond hope that this isn't what I think it is. Then the scent hits me. It hits me like a goddamn bullet straight to the chest. It's a whole damn rose garden, if the garden had been neglected and left to fester in weeds and half rot. But that doesn’t matter, because the moment the aroma reaches me, it may as well have cleaved me open. My alpha howls within me. I've never felt anything like it. It’s desperation and lust and purpose. It’s a fucking life-giving force. My life will always be split between finding this scent and after.

It’s clearly omega. A scent match. Whoever is attached to it—that's our mate.