Chapter 1
The smell of the archives is the only thing that keeps me sane anymore. I inhale deeply, taking in the scent of old paper and dust motes. It might seem strange to some people, but for me it’s my lifeline. I live for these dusty old tomes, they’re filled with knowledge that hardly anyone even wants to reference anymore, let alone remember. Criminal, really.
I’ve worked as an archivist assistant here for six months now. It was the perfect part-time job before graduation and when they offered me full-time hours afterwards, I could hardly turn the Senior Archivist down. This is literally a dream come true for me. At least it would be if a certain werewolf didn’t know I’m here nearly every waking hour of my day.
“Come on Iris, just dance with me tonight at the reception. It’ll look bad if you don’t.” The werewolf says, leaning against the bookshelf I’m currently shelving.
“No.” I say, putting the thick book back on the shelf.
“Your parents are expecting to see us at least once, just give one time and I’ll let it go.”
I sigh and push my cart further down the aisle to continue working. “No, you won’t. We danced at the Vetter Reception two weeks ago and you still haven’t stopped bothering me. Leave Alex. I’m not discussing this anymore.”
I can feel the energy change in the air as his anger becomes more prominent. His hands have claws on them when he roughly slams them on the push bar of my cart. His breathing is heavier as he growls at me.
“You will not refuse me. I am the successor to the Anderson Pack, your sworn ally.” Alex grabs me arm and turns me, shoving me against the shelf. “You will not refuse me.”
I swallow the knot in my throat. “You’re hurting me.” I say, shaking my arm in his grasp. “Just because you’re an alpha and a successor doesn’t mean I have to entertain you. I said leave.”
His grip on my arm tightens and I fight the pricks of tears in my eyes as I hold his stare. He leans in, his breath hot on my ear. “You will be mine, little omega. Do you understand? I will not take ‘no’ for an answer.”
He runs his nose along the edge of my jaw and nips at my ear. I want to scream but I can’t. Instead, I feed the fear to the power I feel swelling inside me. When he leans in again to run his knuckles over my collarbone, I close my eyes and release the magic energy. The burst of power shoves him back into the opposite bookshelf, knocking books on top of him. I hear a shout and footsteps following as the security guard comes to see what happened.
“Iris! What happened?” He shouts, coming between me and Alex.
Alexander Martin jumps to his feet with a loud growl; half transformed into his wolf in rage. The guard pulls out his nightstick and stands at the ready. “Iris, are you okay?”
I take a deep breath before nodding. “Yeah, Malcolm, I’m okay. Alex here is just needing an escort out of the archives. A request doesn’t seem to be enough motivation.”
Alex cracks his neck and returns to his human form. “I’m going, I’m going. But mark my words Iris, I will see you on the dance floor tonight.” He says, pointing at me, then leaves with Malcolm hot on his heels.
I rub my hand over the welts forming on my upper arm before picking up the books I knocked over. I swear, he just cannot take a hint. I carefully stack the books before returning to my desk at the front of the archives, pulling the first aid kit out. Malcolm comes back and helps me treat the tiny cuts.
“Don’t tell me you actually have to deal with stuff like that at all these balls you go to now?” He asks, gently dabbing antiseptic at my skin.
I shrug. “Alphas like him don’t behave that way in front of all the important eyes. Only in private. So, to answer your question, no I don’t. I just have to take it in private and then pretend it didn’t happen when I go tonight.”
I wince at one of the deeper cuts and pull a small poultice jar from the kit. It’s a recipe I’ve used for years that can take tiny scratches like this and heal them completely within an hour. I swipe a bit from the bottom and mentally make a note to make more this weekend; my supply is low from all the paper cuts. “Besides, there will be plenty of other alphas tonight that will be trying to dance with me. Hopefully I don’t even have to give him a second glance.”
Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. Alex is right. My parents do expect us to dance at the Reiser Reception tonight. Ever since Alex Martin was named the successor to the Anderson Pack, my parents have insisted I consider him as a potential mate. It doesn’t matter to them that he’s a colossal jerk, nor does it matter that I’m not the slightest bit interested in him. The St. Claire coven is their oldest ally. To my parents, it’s all but written in stone.
Malcolm helps me wrap my arm in a bandage and helps put the kit away. “I can’t believe your coven actually wants you to participate in this lunacy.”
I smile. I’m a witch, a member of the St. Claire coven since birth. I’m also an omega, the unfortunate recipient of some recessive werewolf genes somewhere in my DNA. After turning eighteen three months ago, I was “launched” into these receptions like a debutante from some centuries-old human mating ritual. To be fair, that’s a lot of what these events are like. Malcolm is a vampyre, turned after he had a major brain aneurysm when he was sixteen, so he has no idea.
“It’s not all that bad. The food is good and the iced tea is usually sweetened. Although it wasn’t the other night and I’ve never seen so many people leave so early.” I say with a giggle.
He smiles and gives me a hug. “Just try to take it easy tonight, okay? You’ve been working full time for two months and attending these stupid receptions, and I know your heat is due any time now so that puts you in an even more difficult position.”
I purse my lips and give him a nod, returning to my cart. He’s not wrong though. The last three months I’ve taken a heat suppressant when my heat has come up, that way it doesn’t flare at these stupid parties. Unfortunately, it won’t work for the fourth time in a row. It’s not around the corner either, it’s in full bloom. My heat came on two days ago and I’ve been struggling to keep it in check. Normally it isn’t a problem, but at a reception surrounded by alphas and betas who can smell the slightest change on me? I sigh out loud, it’s not about to be a fun night.
I wish I could say that incident is the first time Alexander has behaved that way. His strength is well-known in the Anderson Pack and they treat it as a gift. The omegas in the city and the ones surrounding it however, we all feel differently. Amongst ourselves, Alexander is known for being forceful and short-tempered when he doesn’t get what he wants.
I finish shelving the books I knocked on Alex and the ones I already had to do. By the time I leave it’s nearly five thirty. My mother’s going to kill me for being so late. I groan as I pull into the driveway and see her already on the doorstep, tapping her foot at me as I haul myself out of my car.
“I trust you have an excellent excuse for why you’re half an hour late! Your hair should be done by now!” She exclaims as I trudge up the steps.
“I had to work, cut me some slack. There were more books to shelve than usual.” I tell her, carefully sidestepping the incident with Alex.
She tuts and rushes me up to my room. She and our coven sister, Arita, fuss over my hair for the next twenty minutes before deciding to braid the black tendrils into a circlet at the base of my head. I roll my eyes at all the effort, already exhausted and the evening hasn’t even started. They leave while I do my makeup, giving me a brief reprieve from their hands touching me all over.
I sigh as I place my last makeup brush down, trying to take advantage of the quiet. It’s not that I don’t like socializing or even going to these receptions. It’s that I love the work I do. I love finding books that the archivists need and helping the younger students with their homework. I even love the work I do for the coven, brewing potions and making poultices. Being a witch is what I love, it’s the omega side I don’t.
Being an eighteen-year-old omega means I have to present myself at pack receptions during mating season, putting myself on display for alphas and betas seeking a mate. Since there are so few omegas anymore, we’re all required to attend the various receptions held around the state we live in. Grand Rapids is a big enough city, but we still have to travel as far as Detroit sometimes for these soirees. I would just rather be at home.
My mother and Arita come back in and zip me into a black dress. My mother pulls the bandage from my arm with a small frown but doesn’t say anything else. The cuts have already healed so there’s nothing for her to worry about hiding under a sleeve. They’ve been kind enough to let me pick the colors I wear, even if most of the dresses are frillier than my usual taste. They cluck over me for a few more minutes before loading me in the car with my parents.
Tonight, we’re heading to the Reiser Reception, held by a prominent family in the Hanover coven that lives nearby. Every alpha and beta seeking a mate within one hundred miles or even more will be there. The alphas and betas will dance with the omegas and betas who’ve been presented and talk near the snack and drink tables, making chitchat and talking about stupid things until eventually the alpha or more dominant beta will approach the other person’s parents or guardians to propose. They may propose the same night, or maybe they’ll wait through a dozen or more balls to see if a more…appealing person makes an appearance. All for the sake of continuing lines and legacies.
I sigh as the town car pulls up to the reception hall, grudgingly taking my father’s hand when he offers it. He kisses my cheek and my mother helps smooth out the satin of the floor length black dress before they walk inside with me. As we enter the doors to the main hall, we pause and wait to be introduced. It’s almost comical how antiquated the whole thing feels, as though we’re supposed to be aristocracy or something and not just supernaturals putting on airs to make things seem more enticing.
