Page 2 of Their Knotty Pack
Normally, I'd pull out their scent card I took from the OMS database after we matched. I keep it with me, the mixture of our scents calming me when I start to feel anxious. It's not really the scents themselves that do it, but the olfactory reminder that we work together on at leastsomelevel.
I seem to have misplaced it though. I'm not sure when it could have happened, seeing as I haven't needed it in over a week, but I can't bring myself to think too hard about it. The fact is, I need it now, and I don't have it.
Which is why thirty minutes later, I find myself handing my keys to the valet, warning him I might not be long.
"Excuse me, miss, can I help you?" The maitre d asks when I stroll up, my head held high and my steps purposeful.
I flash him a confident smile. "No, thank you, I'm just going to the bar."
He nods and goes back to whatever he was doing before I disrupted his evening. As soon as I make it past the stand, my steps slow, and I duck behind a little wall that separates the bar from the restaurant, earning a confused look from a group of well-dressed women at the high-top table next to me.
"Are you okay?" One of them asks, looking at me with concern in her eyes.
"I…" I shake my head, "It's dumb but…I'm checking on my alphas."
"Shit," a blond one hisses, then moves to the empty seat next to her, leaving the one closest to the wall open. "Come sit with us. You can peek over from here."
I swallow, my throat dry, and nod in thanks. Talk about women supporting women.
Once I settle in the seat, I peer over the top of the wall as inconspicuously as I can. My eyes scan the dining room, brushing over a plethora of romantic, candle-lit dinners, cozy couples in corners, and packs on dates.
My alphas are handsome, but in a generic kind of way. They're not easy to pick out of the crowd, but then I see them. And another person at the table with them.
My chest fills with relief. It's a man.
But then I look closer, my gaze snagging on the head of blue hair, and all thoughts of my pack fly out of my mind. Black, rectangle framed glasses hang from the collar of his button up shirt, and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, revealing one arm with a colorful tattoo sleeve. My stomach flips at the sight of his sharp, square jaw, straight nose, blue eyes that match the hue of his hair, and this…ethereal beauty he has…is he…is he an omega? His eyes flick over like he could feel me eye-fucking him from across the room, and for a split second, time stands still.
Quickly, I lower my head, staring down at the table. My heart pounds in my chest. What the hell was that?
He's an omega, but…maybe he's a client?
"Oh my gods, are you okay?" The blonde one, an omega, I now realize, puts her hand on my arm.
I'm shaking.
"I…I might be?" I manage to get out, my head swimming. My mind is still spinning from the brief eye contact with the blue-haired omega, but my stomach is twisting at the fact he's at a table with my alphas. "He could be a client," I try to reason, but the words sound weak, even to me.
The girls at the table give me pitying looks. "Oh, honey…" the one across from me trails off, and I shake my head.
"He could be a client," I say with more confidence, peeking over the wall again to prove my point.
And fuck me.
I catch sight of Grayson, leaning forward as he tries to brush a strand of hair behind the omega's ear. The omega only looks annoyed, and a little exasperated as he dodges Grayson's advance, standing from the table quickly.
Grayson tried to kiss him.
None of my alphas tried to stop him.
They're…they're trying to court another omega?
Air grows heavy in my lungs, my breathing becoming labored as I try to get enough oxygen.
"I have to go, thank you for letting me sit here." Tears sting my eyes as I rush from the table, ignoring the girls who call out after me. I can't fucking breathe.
I have to leave.
Not just the restaurant, but my pack.
