1. ELLIE

ELLIE

My eyes trail the appetizers spread across the counter in a kitchen worth three times my salary. At least, it feels like it with the porcelain surfaces, marbled tile, and floor-to-ceiling glass windows along the back of this room. Everything is smothered in black and gold, sparkles embedded into the marble that gives this place an air of class that is wildly out of my reach. Even the chandeliers illuminating the open layout tell me that one wrong move and I’ll end up damaging something worth more than my existence.

I huff out a breath as I twist around and face the oddly placed kitchen mirror to double-check my outfit for the night, a deep red wrap dress covering my body. Well, it’s a few fabrics expertly placed around my chest and lower half, showing off my best assets. Instinctively, I go to juggle my tits, chuckling as the piercings through my nipples press against the satin. They’re quite the hit with the men I entertain and having someone’s lips wrapped around them is heaven.

My gaze continues to peruse my scantily clad form, enjoying the colorful ink that winds around my arms and disappears beneath the fabric of my dress. A lot of bad decisions and wanting to memorialize moments in time have led to my look. I love it and it gives me an edge over the other girls when people want someone with a little more… edge. I twist just enough to check that the ties are done up correctly in the back. Long brown curls slap around my shoulders, yet another aspect of my appearance that somehow draws in the sleazeballs. So long as they tip well at the end of the night, I don’t have many limits.

Well, I really only have one.

No sex.

I’m worth more than a cheap night with an Alpha that will discard me in the morning so he can go find an Omega to mate and wed. Well, at least I tell myself that.

One last look in the mirror has me shimmying the top of my dress up just slightly to cover up a nasty scar on my side from a night of too much whiskey and not enough sense. I blow a kiss to the woman looking back at me, smiling at the image I’ve curated.

You’re just a Beta.

I wave off the nasty internal thought. I don’t need that tonight, not when the club I work at—Euphoria—has been hired by some high-end rollers to celebrate a movie release. A few of the other Betas I work with are here, all intent on entertaining men who earn more in a day than we do in months.

Parties aren’t my favorite—playing up to rich Alphas and their Omegas as they parade their riches in our faces. Granted, many of my Beta friends use these nights as a way to unofficially apply for a pack. I’m just working for a paycheck to pay for school and I really enjoy shaking my ass. I mean, it’s a really good one. The hours I spend on the pole have given me a toned physique that I’m rather proud of, even if I don’t like entertaining the rich up close and personal. I’m tempted to twist around and catch my reflection in the mirror again. It’s a good thing I’m not that vain.

You shouldn’t be. You’re just a fucking Beta.

My jaw tightens as my subconscious sticks me back in my place. My future revolves around finding a good job and another Beta who will take what’s left of my sanity. And half of it has already disappeared somewhere into the abyss at this point.

The hustle and bustle of setting up the party grows but I’m resigned to my little corner in the kitchen, going so far as to hop up on the counter, legs dangling as servers begin flitting in and out of the area to start serving food. Entourages of black and white clothing flash across my vision and I lean back, watching in silence.

I manage to steal a mini croquette from a nearby plate and stuff it in my mouth, mulling over how I’m going to wade through the sea of money. Each of the girls working tonight are looking at one pretty paycheck if we stay the entire time. Upwards of $500 based on divvying up the pool that the attendees have added to.

Rich flavors mixed in with the potato explode in my mouth and I bite back a moan as I reach for a second one. Someone slaps my hand and I jerk back, frowning at my older sister, Carleen, who’s currently staring at me, a disappointed expression on her face.

My best friend and confidant in a world where I can’t trust anyone else is also the biggest pain in my ass. Ever since we moved away from home, each of us choosing wildly different ways to fund college, Carleen has kept me on the straight and narrow. For the most part.

Most people in passing think we’re twins even if she’s three years older, a little taller, and her hair has the curls I lust after. She always helps cater these parties, not to mention that she’s a damn good cook with her own business to boot.

“What are you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be giggling with the other girls?”

I turn up my nose, my disgust overshadowed by the curve of my lips. Carleen knows how much I hate that aspect of my job. Giggling in the dressing room is the last thing I want to do, especially when all of their conversations revolve around finding a pack. They talk like a pack is going to find them and court them like they would an Omega.

If Betas could only be so lucky.

“They’re doing enough giggling for themselves. I think they got it.” I snark, reaching for a croquette again. Carleen moves the plate out of reach, glaring at me. “Sue me for coming in here to grab some of the goodies.” My tongue darts out to coat my lips and grab any last lingering spice.

Her hands settle on her hips as her head tilts, studying me and seeing right through the lie. “Uh-huh, you’ve been in here since you got here half an hour ago. What’s up? Nervous?” Carleen is always so attentive and so caring that sometimes I forget she’s an Alpha. She wouldn’t understand the need to perform, to be perfect. Alphas are allowed to stumble, get angry, and curse the world for their own fuckups.

Carleen never does but it’s the principle of the thing.

“Ellie, stop thinking so hard. You’ll be great.”

“I’m a born performer, sis. I know I will. I’m not nervous. I just don’t like that they throw around money so easily when I have to work so hard for it.” I gesture to the entire kitchen. This penthouse located on the top floor of a hotel I could only dream of actually staying at is beautiful. It’s also annoying how rich everything feels in here.

My sister chuckles, patting my knee before grabbing the plate of croquettes. “Get out there. Be social. Maybe you’ll find a new pack.”

“I don’t need one. I have you,” I joke. We have very different goals in life. Mine is to settle down with a nice Beta if I’m lucky. Carleen is happy in her own space, alone. In a world that holds Alphas on a pedestal the moment they find an Omega, she gave them the middle finger. I wish I could do the same. “Just so you know, I’m not here for a pack, Leenie.” A laugh tumbles from my lips at the way her face scrunches up at the terrible nickname I gave her when we were kids. I slide off the counter and pat her shoulder, reassuring her that it’s just a joke. Mostly.

“I know you aren’t but it can’t hurt to keep your eyes open.”

Carleen is so optimistic that the perfect pack is just out there waiting to sweep me off my feet. “It can hurt, though. I’m not needed. Betas never are. And I want more than to be ignored with a credit card. Nights like this are fun, I guess, but it’s just that. One night. And then tomorrow, all these rich people run back to their lives while we’re still here. No, I love what I do, Leenie but I’m not about to sacrifice it for a life where I get ignored.”

“Sacrifice?”

“Yes, sacrifice. Right now, I’m happy. I have a bed, my bike, and I’m about to get my second degree. Hell, I’m only 27 and more accomplished than any of the other girls.” I say that as an accomplishment but most Betas are far ahead of where I am. Again, they have to be in a world that doesn’t need them. Carleen sighs, knowing that she won’t win this conversation.

I manage another shrug before I glide out of the kitchen and into another open floor plan. People have already started to filter in so I hang out around the edge, not surprised when Tati bounds up to my side with two shot glasses.

“Starting early?” I mutter, even as I slip one from her fingers.

She grins, bouncing with enough excitement for the both of us. “Got to. There’s so many famous people here and we need to be on our best behavior. Boss demands it.”

Makes sense. Our boss, Lewis, is in the business to make money so if the girls here tonight make a statement, then we’ll likely be hired again. I throw back the shot, pleasantly surprised that it’s high-end tequila. I know better than to ask where she stole it from but the open bottle on the table nearby answers that question.

Tati drags me toward the other girls, all of them throwing out celebrity names and Wall Street businessmen that I’ve never heard of. “Lighten up, Ellie! This is going to be our night!” One of them squeals.

I manage a smile but I’m not as optimistic. “We’re here to work.”

“No harm in finding a pack, Ellie,” another one throws back. I don’t know her name—not because she’s new—I just don’t care. It’s pretty obvious that they don’t know they can be blacklisted from events like this and our boss won’t hesitate to drop them from a routine for behavioral issues.

It’s not my problem, though. That’s a lesson they’ll have to learn on their own. Leaning against the wall as they continue their bubbly conversation, Tati and I peruse the attendees, making mental notes of who to speak with, spend time with, and grab a few extra tips. We have similar agendas, although she’s saving up for a clothing business. Most of my outfits come from her creative wheelhouse and I’m more than happy to show them off.

“See anyone you like?” Tati asks.

“Not really.”

“You know the Astor couple is here? They don’t come to a lot of events but they’re fucking coming to this one. The gods have blessed us.” Tati wiggles beside me before leaning over to place a kiss on my cheek and then scurries off. Most likely to find more alcohol.

I don’t know much about the Astor couple, just that they’re a wildly famous Alpha-Omega duo made up of a movie director and a retired actor. The few pictures I’ve seen don’t do them justice but that’s neither here nor there. They’ll just be another couple buying our time and attention.

“Seriously? Macon Astor is fucking gorgeous.”

“His Omega is so pretty and tall. I’d let them throw me around any day.” Giggles peel from their lips and I drown them out as I focus on my first target. Whoever gets me drunk the fastest is a win in my book. “You better dance your ass off, Ellie. This shit is your ticket to freedom.”

Hardly.

We’re not needed. We can barely scent Alphas and Omegas and our own scents are usually so muted that we don’t add to the biological need built in this society.

Deciding that I’m better off finding a place to sit so that the sleazeballs can come to me, I make my way to a corner of the couch. It’s a deep cream leather that sinks down, sucking me into a beautiful dream surrounded by clouds. My rather inelegant attempt to straighten up goes unnoticed and I perch myself like a trophy waiting to be discovered.

That’s when heat ignites in the pit of my belly, my nostrils flaring at the most delicious scent I’ve ever caught in my entire life. Like berries and cream with a tart finish at the end. I resist the temptation to spread my legs as need flows through my entire body. My back arches forward as I dig my fingers into my thighs, my nipples pebbling against the thin fabric of my dress. What is this feeling?

A whine sits at the back of my throat as I take a gulp of air, only to be suffocated with the scent. There’s an Omega close to their heat. That’s the only reason for a scent like that.

The problem is that a Beta would never react so violently to it.

I try to ignore it but with every passing second, my body yearns for that scent so that I can devour it.