Page 25

Chapter

Seventeen

LEXIE

T he moment the four alphas make their bizarre and obviously contrived exit, an awkward silence descends over the table like a heavy blanket. I stare at the half-eaten pasta on my plate, pushing a piece of asparagus around with my fork, desperately trying to look casual while my mind spirals.

What the hell just happened?

One minute we're having a slightly tense but manageable dinner, and the next, all four alphas are practically tripping over themselves to leave the table with the flimsiest excuses I've ever heard.

Checking on risotto we didn't order? Strength in numbers bathroom trips?

If they were trying to be subtle, they failed spectacularly.

Across from me, Darren's fingers drum against the white tablecloth in an agitated rhythm. Tap-tap-tap. Pause. Tap-tap-tap. His jaw is tight, a muscle twitching along the edge. I've known him for all of two dates, but even I can tell he's furious.

"So..." I venture, breaking the silence. "Is this normal pack behavior I should know about?"

Darren's blue eyes snap to mine, his expression a storm of confusion and anger. "No. This is definitely not normal." His voice is tight, controlled, but I can hear the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

Tap-tap-tap. His fingers continue their nervous dance on the tablecloth.

"They seemed..." I search for a diplomatic word. "Intense."

"That's one way to put it." He runs his free hand through his short brown hair, messing it up in a way that would be adorable if the situation weren't so uncomfortable. "I don't know what's gotten into them. They promised they'd be on their best behavior tonight."

I take a sip of wine, using the moment to gather my thoughts.

The truth is, I'm not entirely surprised.

This is exactly why I've avoided packs for so long.

The dynamics are complicated enough with just two people.

Add in four alphas and a newly-presented omega, and you've got a powder keg waiting for a match.

And somehow, I think I'm the match.

"Maybe they're just protective," I offer, though I'm not sure why I'm making excuses for them. "Of you, I mean. Since your... presentation is so recent."

Darren's eyes darken. "That's exactly the problem. They can't seem to separate me from what I've become. I'm still the same person, but they're all walking on eggshells or hovering like I need constant protection."

The pain in his voice is raw, genuine. It resonates with the pain deep inside me.

I've spent years being the beta who wasn't quite enough, who was always left behind when someone better came along.

Good enough, until they found an omega. Darren's dealing with the opposite, but it's equally painful. Just in different ways.

Different circumstances, same core wound.

"That must be incredibly frustrating," I say softly.

"You have no idea." He stops the tapping, flattening his palm against the table as if physically restraining himself. "I'm sorry about all this. Tonight was supposed to be different."

"It's okay." I try for a reassuring smile, but it feels strained even to me. "Pack dynamics are complicated. I get that."

"They're not usually this weird," he insists, glancing toward the door where his packmates disappeared. "Something's off tonight. Even for those four."

I follow his gaze, wondering what the four alphas are discussing so urgently. Are they debating whether I'm good enough for their pack? Plotting how to get rid of me without making a scene? Or maybe they're just having second thoughts about the whole arrangement.

Can't even say I blame them. This situation is unusual by any standard.

A waiter approaches with the next course, some kind of artfully arranged fish dish that probably has ingredients imported form outer space.

He sets the plates down with grace, either not noticing or politely ignoring the weird energy crackling between us and the conspicuous absence of two-thirds of our party.

"Will your friends be returning soon?" he asks Darren, the question casual but pointed.

"They'd better be," Darren mutters, then forces a smile. "Thank you."

As the waiter retreats, I set my napkin on the table. The knot in my core has tightened to the point where the thought of eating anything else makes me feel ill.

I take a sip of my wine, buying time. The truth is, I know exactly what's happening.

I've seen it before. The awkward silences, the meaningful glances, the barely concealed discomfort.

It's the same reaction I got from Mark's friends when he first introduced me, right before they started dropping hints about how he'd be happier with an omega.

Right before I found him in bed with one.

I'm the problem. The beta intruder in their alpha-omega dynamic.

Four times I've been in this position. Four times I've watched men I cared about slowly pull away as their friends, their potential packs, made it clear I wasn't what they needed. What they really wanted.

And now it's happening again, only faster. We haven't even made it through the first official date. I guess I should be grateful for that.

"I'm sorry," Darren says again, his voice laced with frustration. "This is the last way I wanted this night to go."

I force a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "It's fine. Really."

But it's not fine. Nothing about this situation is fine.

The four alphas have been gone for nearly ten minutes now, leaving us sitting in awkward silence surrounded by expensive food neither of us is eating.

The waiter keeps glancing our way with barely concealed curiosity, probably wondering what kind of drama is unfolding in his section tonight.

If only he knew.

I set my fork down, no longer pretending to have an appetite. The fish, some delicate white fillet with a sauce that probably took hours to prepare, sits mostly untouched on my plate. Such a waste.

"I think..." I start, then pause, searching for the right words. "I think maybe your pack isn't as ready for this as you are."

Darren's face falls, a flash of hurt crossing his features before he masks it. "They promised they'd give this—give us —a chance."

The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache. He really wanted this to work. Wanted me to meet his pack, to potentially become part of it. The thought should be flattering, exciting even. Instead, it just highlights how impossible this whole situation is.

"I know," I say softly. "But intentions and reality don't always align."

I glance toward the door again. Still no sign of them. What could they possibly be discussing for this long? Whatever it is, it can't be good for me.

"They'll be back," Darren insists, but I can hear the doubt creeping into his voice. "They're just being... weird."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The truth is, I understand their reaction better than Darren does. I've been on the receiving end of it too many times not to recognize the signs. They're closing ranks, protecting their pack and their omega from an outsider. From me.

And really, can I blame them? They've just discovered their packmate is an omega. Their whole dynamic has been turned upside down. The last thing they need is some random beta woman complicating things further.

The silence grows heavier with each passing second.

I fiddle with my napkin, folding and unfolding the corner until the crisp linen is hopelessly creased.

My throat feels tight, eyes burning with the threat of tears I refuse to shed.

Not here. Not in this beautiful room with its spectacular view and its judgmental waitstaff.

"Lexie," Darren says, reaching across the table for my hand. His palm is warm against mine, calloused from hockey sticks and weights and countless hours of practice. He's a man who's used to working at it until he gets what he wants. "Please don't give up on this yet."

I look at our joined hands, at how his completely engulfs mine.

He's so solid, so present. Everything about him radiates strength and certainty.

It's hard to reconcile this man with the traditional image of an omega.

Soft, yielding, nurturing. But then, that's part of what drew me to him in the first place. He defies expectations. Breaks molds.

Just like I've tried to do my whole life.

And if it was just him, it would be a no-brainer.

But it's not. It never is, really. And if there's one thing I've learned through all this, it's that I'm never going to be enough for anyone on my own.

"I'm not giving up," I say, but the words ring hollow even to my own ears. "I just think we need to be realistic about what's happening here."

"And what is that, exactly?" There's an edge of concern to his voice now.

I pull my hand back, needing the distance to think clearly.

"Your pack is struggling with your presentation.

That's obvious. They're protective, confused, trying to figure out where they fit in this new reality.

" I take a breath, steadying myself. "Adding me to the mix right now is just making things more complicated. "

Darren looks like he wants to argue, and he starts to, but he can't. He's starting to accept the reality that should have been clear to me from the beginning. I don't fit into the picture at all.

This isn't how tonight was supposed to go. I'd imagined conversation flowing easily, laughter, maybe a little awkwardness at first but nothing like this. I'd imagined getting to know these men who are so important to Darren, seeing if there might be a place for me among them.

Instead, I got four alphas who couldn't get away from me fast enough.

"I think I should go," I say finally, the words catching in my throat.

Darren's head snaps up, alarm flashing in his blue eyes. "What? No, Lexie, please. They'll be back any minute."

"Will they?" I challenge, unable to keep the hurt from my voice. "Because it seems like they'd rather be anywhere but here right now."

"That's not true," he insists, but there's a flicker of doubt in his expression. "They're just... I don't know what they are right now. But I do know they promised to be here, to give this a chance."

"Actions speak louder than words, Darren." I reach for my purse, decision made. "And their actions are pretty clear."

He stands abruptly, the movement so sudden it startles me. "Don't go. Please." His voice drops lower, almost pleading. "I'll go find them right now. Drag them back if I have to. We can all figure this out."

For a moment, I'm tempted. The raw emotion in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes.

.. it would be so easy to give in, to stay and see this through.

But then I think about sitting here alone again while he hunts down his reluctant packmates, about the awkward forced conversation that would follow, about the sidelong glances that would inevitably persist.

I think about Mark and Tyler and Daniel and Chris. About history repeating itself in increasingly painful ways.

I did a lot in the interest of keeping those connections alive. Made compromises, sacrifices, eroded my own boundaries to make them happy. The one thing I never did was force my presence on anyone, and I'm not about to start now.

No matter how tempting Darren makes it.

"I think you need to talk to your pack," I say, standing as well. "Figure out what's really going on with them. You all clearly have some things to work through."

"Lexie—"

"It's okay," I cut him off, forcing a smile that feels brittle on my face. "I understand. Really, I do. This is a lot, for all of you."

"But I want you here," he says, and the simple honesty in those words nearly breaks my resolve. "I want to see where this could go."

I swallow hard against the lump forming in my throat. "I want that too. But not like this. Not with your pack so clearly uncomfortable with the whole idea."

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "They're just being idiots. They'll come around."

"Maybe," I concede. "But right now, they need you more than I do. And you need to figure out if this is really what you all want."

I grab my coat from the back of my chair, slipping it on with hands that tremble slightly. I'm not going to cry. Not here. Not now.

"At least let me walk you out," Darren says, defeat creeping into his voice.

"That's sweet, but I'm fine," I assure him. Really, I just don't want him to see when the tears spill over. "Besides, someone needs to stick around so the waiter doesn't think we're dining and dashing."

It's a flimsy excuse, but not half as bad as the ones the alphas made, so Darren mercifully lets it slide. "Right," he says with a burdened sigh. "I'll call you later?"

I give a noncommittal nod and slip out before I can humiliate myself any further. Out in the parking lot, I slip into my car and put the key in the ignition, all on autopilot, until I finally pull out and the first tears slip down my cheeks.

Why did I think this could work?

Oh, right. I'm a hopeless romantic who still longs for a genuine connection in a world that's clearly decided I'm nothing more than an extra.