Page 1 of Match (Damselverse #1)

Chapter one

Halle

“ W ould you like to buy a match, ma’am?” I ask for the millionth time as I stand at my designated street corner in the blistering cold, hoping to make some cash.

Things have gone rather downhill for me these last few months, ever since I left my pack and decided to go at it alone.

A lone Omega is unheard of in this cruel, merciless world. It's unthinkable. Outrageous. But it's not as if I am any safer with my pack than I am out on the streets.

At least out here, I can be invisible with the right amount of hormone suppressants or desensitizers. Unfortunately, those things are expensive and hard to come by, so it's just soap and water until I can upgrade to the good stuff.

So long as the soap and water hides my sweet Omega scent, I’ll be satisfied.

Surprisingly, I am ignored by every person who passes by, so it seems my disguise is working.

They think I am Beta. That’s good. Being Beta means I am safe.

But damn…I wish they would just take a little notice. I need the money. Not one person looks interested in a measly box of matches, and gee, I wonder why…

Maybe it's because it's not 1845 anymore, and times have evolved since Hans Christian Anderson was still alive.

I’m just another haphazard Beta that no one cares to give a second look to. Another insignificant speck on this good, clean earth.

The Little Match Girl. That’s what they call me.

A woman in an expensive coat and designer purse looks down at me next, curling her lip as if she has a bad smell under her nose.

She most likely does. I haven’t had a shower in several days. For the past week, I’ve been hiding out in the basement of a fancy bookstore, and the shower stopped working Tuesday evening.

Also, I’m pretty sure the owner of the bookstore is on to me since he’s started leaving rat traps along the basement stairs, so the less water I use, the better.

The lady walks away in her high heels, and I roll my eyes. “Thank you for your time.”

Well, I won’t give up. Someone has to buy a match at some point.

Moments later, it seems I am in luck. A man stops to light up the end of his cigarette, but his lighter fails him.

“Oh, fuck!” he curses, trying in vain yet again for a spark.

This is my chance.

I hold up a matchbox, shaking the contents. “Looking for a match?”

The man stops flicking his lighter, and his smile says it all when he spies my teeny matchbox.

“Thank God! You’re a lifesaver.”

He steps closer, reaching his hand out for the matches, but I pull the matchbox out of his reach. “That will be five dollars, sir.”

His eyes bug. “Five dollars for a box of shitty matches? Fuck you.”

He starts moving away again, but then his lighter fails him for the umpteenth time. I shake the matchbox, and the little sticks rattle inside. “The offer is still open.”

Conceding at last, the man comes back with an irate sigh, handing me five dollars. My heart rate spikes with glee.

Sweet, sweet money…

Thank goodness. I need a new bar of soap. They have a scentless soap at the nearby pharmacy that can eliminate most designation scents, but it’s pricy.

But all I needed was the extra five bucks, and I’m good to go.

I already have fifteen in my pockets.

The customer is waiting, his piggy eyes narrowing with impatience. “Well, give me my matches, brat.”

Oh, yeah, right. I got so distracted by the note that I forgot that I was currently making a purchase.

And brat? Seriously? I’m in my twenties, but I am small—five feet.

Sometimes, people just give me money because they think I’m a homeless child. Being little has its perks at times, yet most people are still rude and downright dangerous.

As soon as the sun goes down, I will make shelter.

All the freaks come out at night.

And my heat spikes are getting stronger. Sometimes, my perfume will go off when I least expect it, hence my desperation for the scentless soap.

Anything to wash away the evidence.

The rude man leaves at last, and I check the contents of my pocket. I’m actually five dollars richer than I realized.

I decide to call it a night. The sun is going down, and I need to leave before this street corner becomes a zoo. It’s definitely not safe for the likes of little old me with her potent cloud of heady, sweet smoke.

Heading to the nearest pharmacy, I get my scentless soap and some potato chips, too—because a girl’s got to eat, you know—and a bottle of water.

I won’t blow all my change. I will just take what I need. Food, water, and soap.

Hopefully, the shower in the bookstore’s basement is finally back in working order.

The bookstore is a few blocks away, and it’s a beautiful building. Red brick wall, ivy curtains—a remnant of a different time.

But I move around the back alley and break in through the smashed window. I was the one who smashed it, obviously.

There are security cameras out here, but so far, I haven’t been spotted. It just so happens that the busted-up window is situated in the camera’s blind spot.

Maybe there is a God and he’s looking out for me.

Inside, I set my new treasures down. I move to the shower and turn the dial, then squeal for joy when the water spurts out.

Finally, a nice hot shower, but I would settle for a cold one at this rate. I’m perfuming like there’s no tomorrow, so there must be an Alpha close by.

Just my luck.

My Omega is horny.

I don’t even wait for the water to run hot. I step under the cold shower, and it’s just the thing my perfuming Omega needs in that moment.

Once she has settled back into her figurative cage, I lift my face under the jets to wash away the street filth.

I also wash away the painful memories, every rejection and humiliation my old pack had me endure at their cruel hands.

My misery was a cheap form of entertainment for them, and the quicker I can leave this Godforsaken town, the better.

They are still out there, looking for me, and I refuse to be found by a pack of heartless monsters.

No. Instead, I will find myself.

I was just nineteen when I was matched with Pack Grim, and it’s time I headed out on my own and discovered who I really am.

I will be an independent Omega. If such a creature exists…

If not, then maybe I could be the first?

Under the scorching water, I can almost forget I am homeless. An Omega on the run.

Here, I’m just a young girl who loves a long, hot shower.

Before the days I moved in with Pack Grim, I spent hours under the shower until my fingertips turned pruney.

Grandma used to get worried with the length of time I spent under the shower, and I smile to myself as I recall the way she used to bang on the bathroom door.

“Halle, what is taking so long? Don’t make me call the fire brigade!”

My smile fades. Those days are long gone.

Once I’m clean, I dry myself off with a ragged towel then step toward my cot.

It's early March as spring is just around the corner, yet I'm still shivering like a leaf. It’s freaking cold in this basement, but at least I have a roof over my head.

It could be worse.

Even after I change into my clothes, though, and lie down under the blankets, I continue to tremble. Perhaps I could light a match…warm myself.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

I grab one of my boxes and strike a match. A flare bursts to life, and my eyes close as I stare at the dancing flame.

It’s almost hypnotic, and I swear I can see them then…

My dream pack. The ones who will take care of me.

They’ve made me a large dinner as it spreads out on the table, and I spy turkey, honey-glazed ham, and eggnog.

It's Christmas time, and there’s no missing the twinkling fir tree in the corner of the large dining room with its crystal chandelier.

My other pack never made me dinner. Nor did they celebrate Christmas. I had to make my own meals as well as theirs and their special ‘guests.’

Just as I go to thank my men, the flame goes out, and then everything turns dark.

The illusion vanishes, and everything becomes cold once again.

Not to worry. I will strike another match.

This time, as the flame dances and flickers, I’m in my dream nest with my pack. There are mountains of pillows, blinking fairy lights, and a mini fridge filled with snacks.

Best of all, my nest smells of them.

Smoke with a hint of spice, peppermint and the brand-new pages of a book…and don’t forget that sweet, musky scent of bergamot and puppy, too.

Three of my favorite things: heat, books, and puppies.

But just as I think I can make out their faces in the nest, the flame sputters out, and then I am left in total darkness again.

It's okay, I have another match.

I’m good.

Except this time when I strike the match, I am not alone.

An elderly woman watches me across the basement, and when she steps into view, I smile.

“Wait…Grandma? But… you…”

This can’t be real. She died six years ago. Just before I turned eighteen.

She reaches her arms out for me, and it looks as if she wants me to join her.

Why? She’s dead. I’m alive.

Unless.

Fuck.

But I find that the realization doesn’t bother me. No, I embrace death like I embrace the arms of my sweet grandma.

I’ve missed her. Life has been shitty since she left.

So, I pull my blankets aside and fall into oblivion when I reach her arms. A beautiful light greets me in the darkness, and a tear escapes my eye.

Finally.

I am not alone anymore.