Chapter 2
Cindy
Something was wrong.
So very very wrong.
Something weird washappening.
And I had a very bad feeling it was only the beginning.
I barely made it back to the bar before Tracy descended like a wasp in stilettos.
"What the hell was that?" she hissed, snatching the tray from my hands like I'd offended the gods. "What did you say to him?"
I blinked, sweat clinging to the back of my neck. My vision shimmered slightly at the edges. "You mean, what did I say to the son you haven't seen in more than three years whenheran intome?Nothing. I told him I had to get to work."
Her jaw twitched. "Don't start with me tonight, Cindy. Do you know who's here?"
"Fancy pants assholes, that have more money than sense?" I deadpanned trying to keep control of my expression. It would not do to have Tracy notice something was wrong with me.
Wrong move.
Her grip on my arm tightened and long nails bit into my skin. "You're lucky I didn't dump you into foster care the second your father croaked."
The words punched the air from my lungs. I flinched, then bit down hard on the pain.
"Maybe you should have," I muttered. "You would have done us both a favour."
She leaned in, her breath hot and bitter against my flushed face. "You're right. I can just as quickly remedy that. Don't think I don't know what tomorrow is for you, you little rat. You might just find yourself out on the street if you're not careful."
The rest of her words faded as something cracked open inside me.
My knees buckled. Heat surged too fast, so violently, it made my head spin. The world tilted. My skin prickled, hypersensitive, and my breath came in quick pants.
"Oh goddess, no," I whispered. "This can't be happening."
I stumbled back from her, my entire body trembling.
And then perfume hit the air.
Myperfume.
Floral. Sweet. Thick and unmistakable.
Tracy froze, her eyes wide with horror. "No!" She actually staggered a step back. "You're... No!"
"Omega," Drew said behind me, his voice low with something I couldn't name. Shock? Awe? Lust?
I turned slowly, catching his eyes, before noticing the other brother standing right behind him.
They were staring like they'd seen a ghost.
Or like they'd just caught a whiff of their favourite drug.
"I'm not—" My voice cracked. "This can't be happening. I'm a Beta. My mom and dad were both Betas."
"Maybe not," came a new voice—smooth, accented and full of barely leashed interest. "You're presenting sweetheart. No mistaking that."