Page 1 of Pack Choice
1
Molly
I drummy fingernails across the tabletop and slump back in my seat.
I don’t want to be here. Ireallydon’t want to be here. But my best friend, Ava, organized the whole thing, and unfortunately, I’m a sucker for that girl.
I peer over my shoulder to check she’s okay. She catches my eye and I bolt upright and plaster a smile on my face.
In return, she throws me a quizzical look and I give her two thumbs up. She shakes her head with a laugh and redirects her attention to the pack of alphas sitting in front of her.
There’s a long queue of alphas gathered behind the ones she’s chatting to, each waiting for their turn to introduce themselves to Ava.
That’s because she smells like vanilla. The really expensive kind that has your eyes watering when you see how expensive it is in the grocery store.
She also has a heart of gold. The sweetest omega you could possibly meet. It’s why I love her.
I scan my gaze around the rest of the ballroom.
Cassidy Monroe has a queue for her table, which is even longer than Ava’s. That’s because her scent is a mimic of honeysuckle on a warm balmy evening, and while her heart is made of stone, she’s perfected the sweet omega act down to a tee.
I turn back to my own empty table with no queue and sigh. This is exactly why I didn’t want to come to this speed-dating event.
My scent is anything but sweet or floral. How did the last pack I shared a heat with describe it? Spicy. Yeah, nobody wants a spicy omega with an even spicier tongue.
I pick up my name placard. Last night, I helped Ava cut out and fold about a dozen of these, as well as about a hundred name badges.
I run my fingertip across my name, printed in Ava’s swirling calligraphy.
Molly Stormgate.
And that is the other reason I don’t have any visitors at my speed-dating table.
My family name. Nobody wants a spicy omega with a spicy tongue and two big brothers like mine. They’re notorious in this city for their ruthlessness and zealous over-protection. Doesn’t help that there’s a photo circulating on the internet of the damage my brothers did to some dude’s face. And all that guy had done was dare to wolf whistle at me on the street.
I am actually surprised my brothers let me come tonight. Then again, with a baby on the way, I think they want me off their hands — mated, bonded, settled down and not causing them trouble.
I sigh in an exaggerated fashion and stare at my name, nearly jumping out of my skin when a deep voice says, “Not happy to be here?”
I look up and find an alpha about twice my size pulling out one of the chairs on the opposite side of my table.
His hair is dark and beard neatly clipped around his face. A face that is all chiseled and angular perfection, his jaw strong, his cheekbones sharp, his nose Roman. Then there are his eyes, a deep emerald green and trained directly at me.
He lowers himself into his seat. Alone. Completely alone.
I slide my name placard onto the table and shuffle in my seat.
It’s one thing to bemoan the absence of men around my table, but now I actually have one. Which means polite conversation – for what? five minutes – before he discovers I am not the omega for him and makes his excuses.
I straighten the placard, hoping my surname might act as some kind of repellant and have him scuttling from my table even sooner.
It doesn’t work. His eyes don’t deviate from my face, and his scent finds its way to my nose. Woody and dark and far too alluring.
“Very happy to be here,” I say, finding that fake smile again. I bet it’s not fooling anyone, but I’m not saying a bad word about this event. I don’t want that getting back to Ava. Despite all her protests to the contrary, I think she organized this event especially for me. Ava is firmly in the ‘you need a pack to care for you’ camp, along with my sister-in-law, Bea. They think love will cure all heartaches.
He snorts, leaning back a little on his chair. Like most of the alphas here tonight, he’s dressed in a suit, although his looks particularly well made, cut to leave everyone in no doubt about how well honed the body that lies underneath is. “You look it,” he says.
He reaches into his jacket pocket to pull out the piece of paper we’ve all been given tonight. Next, he finds an expensive gold pen, swivels the nib and makes a note on the paper.
