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"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" the server exclaims, looking horrified.

"It's okay," I say automatically, even though the fabric is already staining and I can feel the liquid seeping through to my skin. "Accidents happen."

I look over at Adam and Seraphina, expecting them to notice the commotion, to ask if I'm okay. But they're still deep in conversation about classroom management techniques, completely absorbed in each other. Adam's hand has found Seraphina's, and they're standing close enough that their shoulders are touching.

"Really, it's fine," I tell the server, who's frantically trying to blot at my dress with cocktail napkins. "Don't worry about it."

But it's not fine. My dress is ruined, I smell like fruit punch, and my supposed date hasn't even noticed that I've been drenched in alcohol. The irony isn't lost on me, because I've spent the evening running from any alpha who tries to come close to me, only to end up standing alone in a soggy dress while my best friend finds his perfect match.

"I should go clean this up," I announce, though I'm not sure anyone's listening.

"There's a ladies' room just down the hall," the server offers helpfully. "I can show you…”

"I'll find it, thanks," I say, glancing one more time at Adam and Seraphina. They're now discussing the challenges of reaching reluctant readers, their heads bent close together as they share teaching strategies.

I slip away from the group, my heels squelching slightly with each step. No one calls after me, no one notices I'm leaving. Adam's scent trail leads in the opposite direction, growing fainter as I walk away, mixing with Seraphina's vanillasweetness in a way that speaks of new beginnings and perfect matches.

And me?I'm heading to a bathroom to clean fruit punch out of my dress, alone at a masquerade ball where I was supposed to be having the most magical night of my life.

The irony is funny. Almost.

If it wasn't so completely pathetic.

I have three alphas who want to be with me, but here I am with my best friend who has forgotten that I'm supposed to be his fake date in the middle of cleaning fruit punch off my dress in a palace bathroom.

I stare at my reflection in the ornate mirror, watching champagne punch drip from the bodice of my rose gold dress onto the marble floor. My carefully styled hair is coming loose, my makeup is smudged, and I look exactly like what I am, a woman who's been forgotten by her own date.

Three alphas. Three impossibly attractive, successful alphas who claim I'm their destined mate, who can smell my scent through suppressants that fool everyone else. And where are they now? Nowhere to be found when I actually need help getting fruit punch stains out of silk.

Meanwhile, Adam who's supposed to be helping me navigate this whole fake dating charade is probably planning his future family with a woman he met two hours ago. A woman whose scent mingles with his like they were made for each other.

I grab a handful of paper towels and start dabbing at the worst of the stains, but it's hopeless. The fabric is already setting, and the rose gold silk is definitely ruined. Just like my evening, apparently.

The bathroom door opens behind me, but I don't look up. Probably just another guest who'll pretend not to notice the disaster I've become.

"Belle?"

I freeze. I know that voice.

23

MARCUS

I've been searching high and low trying to track Belle.

Her scent has been calling to me all evening, that intoxicating blend of vanilla and honey that cuts through every other fragrance in the palace. Even with her suppressants working overtime, I can follow her trail like a bloodhound. It's stronger tonight than it's ever been, richer and more complex, and it's driving my alpha instincts absolutely crazy.

I know Felix found her first, spent time with her in the library, and he tried to kiss her. Then Theo found her later, lost and panicked in the storage corridors. And I know she ran from both of them, overwhelmed and scared and not ready to face what we all know is inevitable.

Our omega. Our Belle. The missing piece we've been searching for without even knowing we were looking for her.

The bathroom door is slightly ajar when I reach it, and I can hear the soft sounds of distress coming from inside. Paper towels being unrolled, quiet sniffles, the kind of defeated sighs that make my chest ache with the need to fix whatever's wrong.

I knock gently on the doorframe. "Belle?"

The sounds stop immediately, and I can smell the spike of surprise and something that might be relief in her scent.

"It's Marcus," I add, keeping my voice low and non-threatening. "Can I come in?"