Chapter 3 Obvious Baggage

My father hates the designations. Alpha, Beta, Omega. Hates them.

Well, not the beta designation. They are the most human of all of us, not driven by base instincts like alphas and omegas. As an alpha himself, he keeps a leash on his own primal needs, with a grip almost as tight as the one he exerts on mine.

I’m honestly surprised he let me attend the American Omega Academy. But I’m fairly certain the only reason he did was because it would have raised some eyebrows if he hadn’t. It was expected by… well, everyone. Even the people who support his backward way of thinking.

After all, where should an omega go to learn about the instincts that drive them, but to an omega academy? Of course, he let me know I was only going in order to better learn how to control myself.

If he knew that most of the teachers instead encouraged our instincts, told us it was normal to be greedy, to whine, to beg for an alpha or to flood a room with perfume when aroused… Well, he would have yanked me out of there so fast my head would have spun like that girl from The Exorcist .

But as it was, he hadn’t bombarded me with a million commands back then, so I could lie to him, work around the few commands he had put on me, and actually enjoy my time there.

If I hadn’t had that freedom, I’m not sure Florence and I would have lasted as friends and I’d be entirely alone in this world. As it stands, I hardly ever see her. My father isn’t a huge fan, but he can’t say much about it, because she acts more like a beta than an omega of her own volition.

Of course, that doesn’t help when she calls me in the middle of one of my father’s speeches, and I’ve forgotten to shut off my phone. It buzzes quietly in my tiny clutch purse. It’s loud enough that Brian, standing next to me, hears it. His head twists slowly toward me, and I know without looking he’s throwing daggers with his glare.

It’s a struggle not to roll my eyes. How is this my fault? How could I have possibly known she would call? She knows how my father is, how my life is, and generally waits for me to reach out to her, to give her the green light to talk.

I hate that our relationship is like this. So freaking limited. In a perfect world, Florence and I would live together, spend every spare moment of time in each other’s company, like we had at AOA. But as it is, I’m lucky if I can see her in person once a month.

When it stops vibrating, Brian leans closer to me, until his lips brush the shell of my ear, drawing an uncomfortable shiver from me. “I thought we were over giving you the command to turn off your fucking phone, Haven. I thought you’d learned that lesson.”

I keep the smile on my face and don’t respond. He’s not expecting one. He just likes to see me shake. And I refuse to let him shake me. He has enough control over me as it is.

“I’ll talk with your father about limiting your phone time if you aren’t able to control it yourself.” Frustration boils in my stomach at the threat. I wish I could say it was an empty one, but it’s not. Brian would only have to mention this to my father, and he’d have my phone confiscated in the next thirty seconds. Like I’m an unruly, grounded teenager and not a fully grown adult woman.

Still, I know my role, so when his teeth nip my ear in warning, my smile doesn’t fade, even though there’s a stinging behind my eyes. He’s been like this recently, taking more and more physical liberties with me. A hand just a little too low on my back, fingers that clamp down just a little too hard on my arm, his nose a little too close to my neck, my scent. He touches me like I’m his. Possessively . I hate it.

I’m helpless to do anything about it, bound up in too many commands to tell him to stop, to put space between us.

I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to settle my raging emotions. I cannot, under any circumstances, let them out here. If I do, things will be so much worse for me. Not only will my father punish me, but my own body will. Crying or raging in public directly violates my father’s ever present “do not embarrass me” command.

I feel Brian’s gaze burn into the side of my face as he leans away, straightening his suit jacket. My shoulders slump the slightest bit when he turns his attention back to my father. No one in the crowd notices. No one is looking at me, and I have no clue why it’s so important that I always keep that same demure smile on my face when no one gives a crap about me.

My father is the center of attention and I’m… a prop in the background. Set dressing.

My expression falters the slightest bit when I meet three sets of familiar eyes, all standing in a row. Hale Calloway’s icy blue first, then his pack mates, Jude and Atticus. I may or may not have done a minor bit of sleuthing after the groundbreaking for the clinic, looking up the Calloway pack to ease my curiosity. Nothing will come of it, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t find out more about my father’s supporters.

Though why they support him, I have no idea. He doesn’t approve of packed up alphas. And they are clearly a pack. Proudly a pack even. Have been for the last eleven years. Hale, Jude, Atticus and… Creed.

My gaze lands on him, the tallest of the four of them by far, the broadest as well. He looks like he could break me in half with his little finger. There’s an aura of danger that seems to hang around him, one that warns not to get too close. Well, it warns almost everyone not to get too close. But my stupid omega seems to think he’d be a wonderful alpha who would do everything in his power to keep us safe. Which… for any other omega, might be the case. But not for me.

I am not destined for a pack. It’s seeming more and more like I’m destined for the prick standing next to me.

Creed’s dark eyes narrow as he watches me. The same way he’s watched me over the last week. At every public event my father drags me to, at least one, if not all, of the Calloway pack members are there. I don’t know if they’ve always been this devoted to my father and I’ve just never noticed them, or if it’s a recent development for them.

Whatever the case, they are always there, staring at me, watching me. Rarely do they have their attention on my father, and the few times I’ve seen it flicker to him, I swear I see anger in their eyes. But only for a moment before it wiped away, hidden under the calm expressions, the heated glances.

And they are heated . I may not have a lot of experience with alphas, but there is no mistaking the lust in their eyes when they look at me, like I’m something to be coveted, touched, dirtied up, and worshiped. They look at me like I’m theirs. Like they’re halfway to claiming me.

I wish I could let them. But I can’t.

Maybe they don’t want to do anything about it either. Not one of them has approached me since Hale, since I scurried away to hide like the little mouse he called me. I hate that I proved him right.

Still, they come, and they watch me. The omega in me adores the attention. Even though I know I shouldn’t.

I’m startled from my staring contest with Creed when the crowd erupts into applause. Once again, my hands join in of their own accord, the command of my father rigging them to do his bidding. Brian shifts closer to me, and I force my brain to consider scurrying off again. Away from everyone to find a place where I can call Ren and have a moment of peace.

When I do, I’m surprised to find there aren’t any immediate refusals in my body. Oh, thank god. I can go. Now.

I do so without a second thought, hurrying away from Brian before he can make me stay put. I hum quietly to myself to drown out his voice just in case he still tries to command me back.

Away. Away. Away. I need to get away. It pounds through me with every heartbeat.

Not just here at this moment, but in the future. In my life. I need to get away from… everything. Well, everything but Florence. She’s the one part of my current situation I’ll never get rid of.

I duck around a corner, rushing through the crowd of onlookers who largely ignore me, but for the four sets of eyes of the Calloway Pack. They follow my path until I push through a door to the outside.

The air is chilly, but the sun is out. Typical early autumn weather for Granton and I love it. If I could spend every spare moment of my time outside, I think I might. But unless it’s a Frederick Bell approved hike or outing, I rarely have time to appreciate the outdoors.

My father just doesn’t think it’s ladylike enough for me.

I wish I could tell him to fuck off. I wish I could just pack up a bag and go. But where would I go? I have no money of my own. I’ve never worked a day in my life beyond being a lifeless prop for Frederick Bell. He never let me learn to drive, even though I begged to. I can’t cook for myself. I’ve managed to research some things, like foraging and the prettiest hikes in our area, but I haven’t actually put anything I’ve learned into practice.

Where would a penniless omega go on her own? More to the point, where would I go if left on my own? I could stay with Florence and her family, but their house, while full of love, is already crowded with the three of them. Besides, if I was trying to hide from my father, staying with Ren would be a stupid move. It’s the first place he’d look, because he knows I have no one else.

Just her.

As I slip farther into the color changing trees surrounding the venue, my phone vibrates again in my little purse. I answer without checking the screen, already knowing who it is.

“What are you doing?” Ren asks, without saying hello.

I sigh and lean against a tree, not caring the slightest that I might get it wrinkled or dirty. I’ve done my part for the day. Now it’s just a matter of waiting around until my father is ready to go home.

“I’m at a function with my father.” Florence snorts at my wording.

“Are they there?” I don’t have to ask who she means. Normally, I don’t tell her about the people I come across at these events, not out of duty to my father, but just because they’re not all that interesting. I only share the really juicy bits of gossip I pick up.

But after that conversation with Hale Calloway, I couldn’t wait to tell Florence all about it. An unremarkable conversation at its core, and yet, I couldn’t keep myself from sharing with her.

Now, every time they show up to one of these things, I text her about it.

I hum an affirmative sound, but don’t particularly want to talk about it, so I ask, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, just biting back insults and curses as we learn new choreography.”

I hum. “Giles still being a jerk, then?”

“When is he not?” Florence is an omega like me, and a dancer. Which is arguably harder than my position as a dutiful daughter. She wants to be a principal, to dance the lead, but every director she’s ever worked with is too gun shy to allow her to do it. Even though she hasn’t had a heat yet, even though she takes suppressants to keep herself from having one unplanned, they simply can’t put her into a lead role only to have her be unavailable for a week. Nevermind that is what understudies are for.

I hum my agreement and wait. She didn’t call just to complain about her choreographer. “What’s your dad up to tonight?”

I flick my gaze around, double checking that I’m alone. “He has a business dinner. It’ll probably go pretty late.” Even if he doesn’t, it’s not like he peeks in at me while I’m sleeping. No, he just assumes that I’m a good girl tucked up in bed.

“Good. I need to fucking vent.”

I chuckle. “And I love to listen to you vent.” It’s something I wish I could do, but it’s one of the standing commands. Never badmouth my father for any reason to anyone, even Ren, who would never repeat it. She knows how bad that would be for me.

“Please tell me we can meet,” my best friend begs. “Please. Please. Please .”

I laugh. “You know I’ll do anything for you, babe. Just tell me when and where. And I’ll be there.”

It takes some finagling to work around the commands my father has in place, but I’ve long ago reasoned out why it’s okay for me to go to drinks with Florence. My body no longer immediately rejects the idea like it did when we graduated from AOA and he dumped his first layers of commands on me.

The crack of a twig behind me has me pushing away from the tree and spinning, heart thundering in my chest. If it’s Brian, I’m screwed. So fucking screwed. He’ll know I’ve been sneaking out with Florence, that I’ve been doing things my father views as unladylike or embarrassing to him. When really all I’m doing is seeing my best friend in public. Millions of people do that every freaking day.

When I turn, I find not Brian but Creed Calloway watching me with those depthless eyes of his. His big hands are tucked into the pockets of his slacks and his posture is relaxed. But it doesn’t fool me or my omega one bit. He’s a predator watching his prey.

And I don’t hate it.

“Shit,” Ren says into my ear. “Giles is glaring at me, even though we have two minutes left in our break. I gotta go. I’ll text a time and a place to you. Love you!”

“I love you too,” I say back automatically, my lips feeling slightly numb. Hell, my whole body feels numb and tingly. Florence hangs up without another word. I drop the phone to my side, still staring at Creed.

His dark gaze follows the descent of my phone, one brow arched. “Boyfriend?” The single word is rumbled and dark, as though he hates the idea that I might be dating someone. A shiver works over my body and my nipples pucker, pressing against the padding of my bra. Honestly. Thank god for padded bras. The last thing I need is Creed Calloway, Senator Bell's supporter, seeing my physical reaction to him.

I lick my lips and shake my head. “Best friend.”

His relaxed posture relaxes even further at that and a teasing grin pulls at his full mouth. “Good.”

“Good?”

He nods and takes a step closer. “Yeah. Good. I’d hate to beat the shit out of some unworthy fuck just for daring to get close to you.”

Huh. I shouldn’t like that as much as I do. But I’ve spent the last week under the heated gaze of this man and his pack, feeling their eyes on me like a possessive caress, and my omega loves it. Loves the attention and the feeling of being claimed. If not verbally, then in the way they watch me.

I’ve never had this sort of reaction to an alpha or a pack.

My eyelids flutter closed, and then open again, only to find him much closer. A tendril of his scent reaches my nose, faint and slightly chemically, like he put on descenter this morning, but it’s wearing off.

“I’m Creed,” he says, like I don’t already know.

“Haven,” I reply, softly. Part of me is clawing at my chest to get away from this man. A warning that something bad is going to happen if I stay here. But I think it’s just my father’s commands talking. Part of me knows Frederick Bell would have a problem with me standing here in the privacy of the trees having a conversation with a packed up alpha.

His head tilts and his dark eyes run over me again, drawing out another shiver. “You know I won’t hurt you, right?”

Run! A part of me screams, because I don’t know that. Not with how my heart is thundering and I feel cornered… but like… the good kind of cornered. I want him to come closer, to cage me in with his body and run his nose along my neck. I want him to bite me.

Badly.

I swallow down a whimper, and he watches me do it. Watches as I take a single step back, away from him. “Haven, baby girl,” he says quietly, softly, one hand reaching out to me, looking pained. “You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.”

I shake my head, more at myself than at his assertion. He doesn’t know what I’m battling here. The years of commands I have to sift through to just stay put, to keep my feet rooted to the ground and not skitter away like the mouse Hale called me a week ago.

“Yes,” he says firmly. “You’re safe. I won’t hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

My omega, starved for attention, affection and security, purrs at the protective statement. But he doesn’t actually mean it. Not for me, Haven Bell. He doesn’t know me, doesn’t know anything about me. He doesn’t even know what my scent is. I’ve buried it under too many chemicals, ordered to by my father.

There’s no way he actually wants me. It doesn’t make any sense at all.

That thought has my body settling somewhat.

This man is one of my father’s supporters. He’s a guest at this party. I am under strict orders to be polite and to speak when spoken to. So I can do this. It’s okay for me to stay here and talk with this alpha so long as I don’t do anything that might embarrass my father.

I take a deep breath in through my nose and let it out slowly, before tipping up my chin and meeting his gaze. Here in the shadow of the trees, I can’t make out the color of his eyes. Only that they are dark, and I don’t think they’re brown.

“I know,” I say with certainty. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

His mouth twitches into that smile again, small and pleased. “Good. I’d hate to think you felt unsafe with me, or any member of my pack.”

I tilt my head and he follows the movement, latching onto the exposed skin of my neck before meeting my eyes again. “Why’s that?”

“Because we have every intention of courting you.”

He says it so casually that the words almost don’t register. “ What?”

“We’re planning on courting you, to be our omega,” he repeats, inching just a little closer.

Shock keeps me rooted, but then the words sink in and I feel my cheeks go pale. “I can’t- You can’t- That’s not-”

I cut off the words, snapping my teeth together so hard they audibly click. A furrow appears between his brows and he reaches out to brush the tip of his finger over the back of my hand gently. I’ve never felt a touch more than I feel that soft swipe.

“We can’t what, baby girl?”

I take a deep breath and let it out again, fighting against the urge to make a polite excuse and run away. He came to me to state his intentions, to state his pack’s intentions, straightforward and to the point. He deserves for me to be the same.

“My father doesn’t support pack life, Creed.”

“Yes, we’re aware.”

He’s going to make me spell it out for him. “He won’t approve of me being courted by a pack. I can’t allow it.”

“You can’t allow it?”

I grit my teeth against the urge to tell him everything. If I even try, the result will be a migraine that will knock me on my ass until tomorrow, and I want to see Florence tonight. I need to see her, my one bright spot in the ever present darkness that is my life.

“I can’t,” I repeat, because I really can’t. Or at least I shouldn’t . I’ve never been given a direct order to not let a pack court me, to not entertain the idea of bonding, mating, being a packed up omega. But it would only take one instance of my father hearing about me spending time with a pack for him to correct that oversight. One command from him, and I’d probably get a headache every time I talked to anyone who is a part of any pack, let alone one that wants to court me.

It must say something about how lonely I am, how much I want this, that I’ve even considered allowing it for a moment.

The furrow between his dark blond brows deepens. “Why is that, Haven?”

My father has me so wrapped in alpha commands that I have no autonomy. The words are right there on the tip of my tongue. I want to blurt them out, to shout them in his face, to relieve myself of this burden that I’ve carried for so long. But I’ve been commanded to keep it to myself. To tell no one what he’s done to me.

“He wouldn’t approve,” is what I say instead. It’s the truth and not anything he doesn’t already know.

“And his approval matters to you?”

No! “Yes.”

He hums and runs a knuckle down my cheek, moving a little closer. “Well, I hate to break it to you, baby girl, but we don’t give a fuck about your father’s approval. We want you, want to spend time with you. Get to know you.”

It just doesn’t make any sense. I know some packs will search out single omegas and date them for a while to see if they want to bond with them. Hell, all the packs that I met at AOA were only interested in me because of my designation. They cared very little about getting to know Haven Bell. But it made sense in that setting. The omega academies help compatible packs and omegas find each other. But out here in the real world? Surely the Calloway pack can find an omega without so much obvious baggage as I have.

That they know my father will disapprove of a relationship between me and any pack means they know this will likely end without a bond. Why would they put in the effort? I mean, they could just go to AOA and meet ten omegas who would scramble for a chance to pack up with them.

No, there’s something else going on here. The Calloway pack wants something, and it sure as hell isn’t me.

Which means they must want something from my father. It’s not the first time this has happened, someone approaching me thinking I’ll get them an in with Frederick Bell, that winning my affection means winning the affection of my father. Little do they know that our entire relationship is fake, a farce put on for the media and the world. They’re always disappointed when they realize that Haven Bell is nothing more than a pretty adornment.

This is the first time I’ve wanted to let someone use me to get to my father, though. Isn’t that… dangerous?

Best to just… nip this in the bud right now.

“I am not a tool to be used to gain favor with my father.”

His brows jump in surprise, like he hadn’t expected me to just call him out on it, and for some reason, that makes my stomach drop. I suppose I’d hoped in my heart of hearts that maybe they did actually want me for me.

“He doesn’t-” Care. “listen to me about his policies or next project,” I continue. “I may be his daughter, but I hold very little sway over him. So trying to ingratiate yourself with me won’t help you get close to him.”

Creed stares at me hard for a moment, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to figure out, and then his jaw tenses as he looks away from me. “Jesus, have people done that to you in the past? That’s fucked up, Haven. But I can assure you, we’re here for you . Not for him.”

He seems… genuine as he says it. Even though he’s still looking off to the side. Isn’t that a sign someone is lying? Why do I believe him? Or is it only that I want to believe him? He meets my gaze again. “Give us a chance to prove it to you. Come out with us tonight,” Creed says, giving me a hopeful smile. “Please?”

I blink at the word. No one uses it with me ever, except for Florence, but even with her it’s few and far between. Not that she’s demanding of my time or my obedience like my father is… she just never has to say it to me. Anything she asks for that’s within my power to give, I happily do. She never abuses that privilege.

I glance around the crowd, searching for a sign of my father, but he’s vanished, likely behind a closed door to make some kind of shady deal.

“Baby girl,” Creed murmurs, sending a jolt down my spine with the endearment even though it’s not the first time he’s used it, drawing my attention black to him. He moves closer, crowding into my space like I wanted him to earlier. Under the chemicals, his scent teases my nostrils. “Come out with us.”

I should say no. Going out with the Calloway pack is definitely not on the list of approved activities given to me by my father. But… he smells like home. Like a heavy rain after weeks and weeks of too hot weather. I’m parched earth and he’s… everything.

Petrichor.

That’s what his scent is. And I love it.

I want more of it, more of him.

“What would we do if I came out with you tonight? I’m not saying yes,” I caution.

“But you aren’t saying ‘no’ either, so I’ll take it.” He wiggles his head back and forth as he runs his gaze over me, considering my question and his answer. My fingers clasp tighter as I realize how I must look. Not like the twenty-one-year-old I am, more like a forty-year-old businesswoman, all the way down to my sensible low heel.

I want to tell him this isn’t me. That I have no choice in my clothes, or my hair or my makeup. I have explicit instructions on how I present myself, and there is no room for even an ounce of my personality.

God, I don’t even know what I would wear given the choice.

“Dinner?” he finally says. “Something tells me you don’t go to a lot of bars, so dinner seems safe.”

My brow furrows. He’s not wrong, but his assessment bothers me. A lot. I can be fun. I can let loose and have a good time. Even if you wouldn’t think it when you look at me. I’ve done it with Ren before. If I’m going to do this, see the Calloway pack and give them a chance to prove that they actually want me, I want to show them as much of myself as the commands binding me tight will let me.

Like an answer to my prayers, my phone vibrates and I pull it out to glance at the screen.

Ren:

Drinks tonight

That place with the cocktails and the dancing

I’ll pick you up at the normal spot at 8.

My lips curl into a smile at her vague invitation, but I know exactly where she means. It’s the benefit of having a best friend that’s the other side of your soul, your heart, your brain.

Creed watches me as I type out a reply, then smiles when I meet his gaze again. “Do you know that club, The Market?”

His brows jump in surprise at my question, but he nods. “Yeah. I know it.”

Excitement zings through me. I’m really going to do this, aren’t I? “My friend, Florence, and I will be there tonight at around 8:30. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

His lips pull into a wolfish smile, one that makes me feel like prey, but I really find that I don’t mind in the least. “Oh, baby girl,” he growls. “You can count on it.”