Page 3 of Stalked By the Alphas
“Another drink, Haze?” Zach’s voice is already slurring slightly as he holds up a bottle of the expensive whiskey Carter’s father keeps in his study.
His grey eyes catch the moonlight as he leans forward, and I find myself studying the familiar planes of his face. Out of all three alphas, he’s the most openly emotional, wearing his heart on the sleeve of his rumpled shirt. His light brown hair is tousled and sticking up.
I hold out my glass, watching the amber liquid splash against the sides. The crystal catches the light from the fairy lights strung through the nearby trees—Carter’s mother’s touch. “Why not? I’m already going to regret this tomorrow.” Just like I regret most things these days. Like another failed attempt at dating last week. This is the third alpha this year to suddenly lose interest, and we’re only halfway through.
Noah’s low chuckle sends shivers down my spine. He is sprawled on the grass beside me, his usual pristine appearance dishevelled by the heat and alcohol. His white shirt is unbuttoned at the collar. Even drunk, his green eyes hold that analytical gleam that makes me wonder what he sees when he looks at people. Does he see their souls? Some days, it feels like it.
“The mighty Hazel Bishop, accepting her fate beforethe hangover even hits? Your newest ex must have really done a number on you.” His words are teasing, but there’s an edge to them that makes my omega instincts prickle.
I flinch at the reminder of Jon, my latest failed attempt at finding a mate. He’d seemed perfect on paper—a successful accountant, a good family, and a kind smile. But like all the others, he’d ghosted me after the second date, and that was that.
What is wrong with me?
“Don’t start, Noah,” I mutter, taking another sip of whiskey. The alcohol has softened the edges of everything, making the fairy lights blur into gentle starbursts.
Carter’s voice cuts through the tension from his position on the wooden swing seat. “Leave her alone, Noah. Haze, he wasn’t the right alpha.”
“Seems none of them are,” I mutter, and take a big gulp of the whiskey. It burns my throat as it slides down, and I feel my stomach roil as the booze hits it.
“Is that why you’re leaving us?” Zach asks, his gaze avoiding mine as he brings up the subject we’ve all been skating around for weeks.
I swallow hard against the sudden lump in my throat. These three have been my best friends since we were children. The alphas who’d protected me, supported me, helped me through my dating woes. The only constants in my increasingly unstable life.
But it’s time to move on.
“I have to go,” I whisper. “You know I do. There’s nothing for me here anymore.”
“What exactly are you running from?” Carter’s voice is dangerously soft. The swing’s chains creak as he stands, stalking towards me with the predatory grace that has only intensified since he started interning at his father’s law firm.
“I’m not running. I need to make my own way. Build something that’s mine. Something I can’t mess up. You are barely here anymore with your fancy law shit in London, and Zach and Noah are off at university as well. I’m not sitting around here waiting for you to come home so we can hang out. I’ve got my own life to live, and the bookshop that came up for sale is perfect.”
“It’s hundreds of miles away,” Noah points out. “Hardly perfect.”
“For whom? You? It’s perfect for me. I can start fresh. Use the inheritance I got from my mum for something good.”
Noah’s hand settles on my ankle, his thumb brushing over the delicate bone. “Interesting choice of words, little one. What makes you think you mess things up?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I take another drink for courage. “Maybe the growing list of alphas who can’t seem to stick around? The fact that the only job where someone will hire me is based solely on the fact that I’m an omega. I want more. You know I do. Besides, I’m starting to think there’s something wrong with me.”
Zach sits up so quickly it makes me jump. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” His voice is fierce andpossessive in a way that makes me sigh. “Those alphas weren’t worthy of you.”
“Hazel’s right,” Carter crouches before me, his face inches from mine, his blue eyes boring into mine as he talks about me rather than to me. His scent wraps around me like a blanket—old books and cedarwood. “We can’t expect her to sit around here waiting for us to come home on the holidays. How boring.” He grasps my chin lightly, a wicked smile curving his lips. “Go find your adventure, tiny omega. You deserve it.”
I grimace at his nickname for me. They are all so much taller than my five foot three inches, but tiny is borderline insulting.
Zach moves closer. “Fine. Go open your bookshop. But let’s make a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
Carter’s eyes never leave my face, and I wonder briefly in my alcohol-infused daze what it would be like to press my lips to his before I squash that thought.
“Five years.” Zach’s expression is intense, almost feverish. “Give yourself five years to build your bookshop, make your mark. If none of us are mated by your twenty-fifth birthday, then you give us a shot. All of us.”
Carter’s hand moves to the back of my sweaty neck. “Five years. A verbal contract, witnessed and agreed upon. If we’re all still single, you come back to us.”
I laugh. “That’s nuts. You can’t seriously be suggesting a mating pact.”
“Why not?” Noah’s voice is thoughtful and clinical.
