Page 50 of Unbonded (Pack’s Companion #3)
As I stare at myself in the mirror, watching the stylist put the finishing touches on my hair and makeup for Dash’s opening night, I feel like I’m being reunited with an old friend.
The polished, confident woman staring back at me is a lot like the girl I remember from college, when life was a big adventure and I was more than ready to grab it between my teeth.
Instead of going to a salon, Corbus arranged for the miracle workers to come to us, and I spent the afternoon being pampered from head to toe.
After trimming my hair, the stylist asked me if I wanted to wear it down, but it’s not often I go to the opening night of the most anticipated ballet of the year.
We decided on an elegant updo that shows the long line of my neck – and if the other patrons have an issue with my unbonding scar, they can just redirect their attention to the stage, where it belongs.
Bernadette is applying a final mist of setting spray to my makeup when Lachlan saunters in, looking like a dream in a form-fitting midnight blue tuxedo.
I don’t blame Bernadette for the small gasp that escapes her lips, but Lachlan just gives her a polite nod before directing his sunshine smile my way. “Special delivery for Ms. Valentine.”
I stare in shock at the glossy box in his hands. “You didn’t!”
He shrugs, looking bashful. “Corbus helped… but I picked out the color.”
I kick off my slippers, Lachlan going down on a knee and fitting the black pumps on my feet. They’re Jimmy Choo’s in patent leather with a hand-finished crystal strap and look even better with Lachlan’s hands stroking my ankle.
“Okay,” Bernadette says in a breathy voice, “I’m going to leave you to it before I spontaneously burst into song.”
I give her a wave, and then I’m leaning into Lachlan for the kiss I’ve been wanting ever since he walked through the door.
“I love them so much.” I turn my feet back and forth, feeling every inch the pampered princess.
“And if I haven’t told you before, you have a very fashionable eye.
” He laughs, but I smooth an appreciative hand over the shoulder of his tux. “Tom Ford?”
“Corbus took me shopping,” he admits almost shyly. “He wanted me to wear Gucci, but I wanted something homegrown.”
I hum, since I don’t have the heart to tell him that Tom Ford single handedly revamped Gucci in the nineties.
“Well, my panties just flashed me an SOS.” His eyes darken, and I bite my lip. “Can you help me into my gown?”
“With pleasure.”
He moves smoothly back to his feet, while I head into the closet and grab the floor-length dress from the display rack.
It’s another last-minute miracle, since I’ve been working on it as a side project ever since Opening Night dropped into my calendar.
I just couldn’t resist using some of the claret velvet from Dash’s jacket, adding the hint of padded shoulders, and a daring neckline I’ve filled with gold chain adornments.
It’s equally daring and unique, and most importantly, makes it pretty obvious that I’m Dash Devereux’s number one fan.
When Lachlan has zipped me into the dress, he takes a step back and clicks his tongue. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or salute you.”
I arch an amused brow at his trousers, the front of which are a little tighter than they were a moment ago. “Looks like you’re multitasking.”
His hands twitch, like he’s telling himself to behave, and then he nods to another box he placed on the bed. “Corbus told me to open this when we were together. Said it was a joint gift.”
The two alphas brought us chocolates, wine, and other goodies from their European trip, and it’s now my turn to make grabby hands. “It smells divine. What do you think it is?”
Lachlan gives me an indulgent smile as I rip into the silver wrapping, my breath catching as I unearth a bottle of House of Omega’s Magnetism perfume.
There’s a handwritten card attached to the top, and I blink as I read Grace Rose’s elegant script.
“She says it’s their latest edition, with even more powerful scent activators.
It should take on the characteristics of both our scents.
” I stare at Lachlan with stunned eyes. “Oh, my God. You mean I’ll start to smell like sunshine? ”
“Don’t you already?” Lachlan smiles, nodding for me to open the box. “But shouldn’t Corbus be sharing it with you? He’s your scent match.”
“As are you,” Corbus says from the doorway, dressed in the same classically elegant tuxedo he was wearing at the Liberty Hotel gala. “And even if we’re not formally mated, at least this way you’ll both smell like mine.”
God, how good would it be to kiss Lachlan and taste Corbus on his tongue?
If he mated me, what kind of depth would it add to our scents? In a perfect world, my bitter coffee scent would be overpowered by cedarwood and sunshine, and when Corbus does the honors of applying the perfume to our wrists, I’m certain I can smell something sweet and citrusy under my suppressant.
“Like I said,” Lachlan smiles, leaning down to sniff me, “better than sunshine.”
“Thank you, Corbus,” I tell him, my heart skipping a beat as he wraps a hand around my waist. “It’s such a thoughtful gift.”
“Believe me, I’m thanking myself,” he murmurs, dropping his nose to my neck. His lips skim my exposed scent gland, eliciting a full-body shiver. “There's a patch of beach on my estate in Spain that smells just like this.”
I turn my head to look into his crystal-blue eyes. “You have a patch of beach?”
His lips turn up in a hint of a smile. “We will visit, yes?”
It seems like an impossible thing to plan for, a dream that ordinary people just don’t get to grasp, but I nod my head. Dreams can’t hurt, can they? “Maybe at the end of the season, when Dash gets some downtime?”
He takes my hand, rubbing his thumb over the black opal ring. “I will wait with bated breath.”
A state that is only too familiar to me as we arrive at the theater, and Corbus invites me to exit the car on his arm.
Since Dash is already backstage, and Bram is joining us straight from work, I have the pleasure of being flanked by both Corbus and Lachlan as we sweep up the red carpet.
There are plenty of other eye-catching patrons milling around the foyer, but we seem to be attracting more than our share of stares and whispers.
As we make our way towards the main staircase, the company director comes over to greet us.
He looks at me curiously as he thanks Corbus for his patronage, and I assume one plus one omega isn’t mathing in his head, until he extends a hand in my direction.
“Ms. Valentine, Dash has told me so much about you. He also gave me a little preview of his party jacket, so if you ever feel like turning your hand to costuming, please give me a call.”
I relax, even managing to return his smile, while Lachlan takes a card from his jacket pocket and hands it to the director. “Kate has opened her own salon on Fifth Avenue. There’s already high demand for her bespoke pieces, so if you’re interested in a collaboration, you need to get in quick.”
The director gives me an impressed nod, and as he circles away to talk to other patrons, I nudge Lachlan in the ribs. “Since when are you carrying around my business cards?”
“I need to put my degree to use sometime, right?”
I smile, but it’s a good reminder that Lachlan has dreams of his own that need to be supported. Plus, there’s the not so insignificant fact that he lives in Chicago, and we still haven’t talked about his plans for moving to New York long term.
I make a mental note to follow up on that when I notice Bram crossing the foyer, an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry. I got caught up with a couple of things.” He’s kissing my cheek and squeezing Lachlan’s shoulder, but his gaze settles on Corbus. “Everything okay?”
“Of course. But Bram, you look…” Words seem to fail Corbus, and he finishes his observation in his own tongue. Whatever it means, it puts a smile on Bram’s face, and makes his chest swell under his tuxedo jacket.
“All Kate’s work,” he says, wrapping an arm around me, and for a moment I’m caught in a delicious swirl of masculine arousal.
Both Corbus and Lachlan are eating Bram up with their eyes, and given the way my nose is inching toward the sharp V of his jacket, I’m not surprised when he mutters, “Maybe we should take this into our private box.”
We all agree, and after sweeping up the curved staircase, follow an usher to the box closest to the stage.
It’s furnished in gold and red velvet, the drapes drawn back to provide an unrestricted view of the theater below.
Plenty of other audience members are looking our way, but while Corbus seems oblivious to the attention, Bram’s body feels like it’s vibrating with tension.
“Everything okay?” I ask as we take our seats.
“Yeah, I’ve just been doing risk assessments at work. Always puts me on edge.” He leans down to run his nose along my cheek. “You look stunning, by the way. Don’t be surprised if there’s a queue down Fifth Avenue waiting for your doors to open on Monday.”
I cock a brow at him, but my stomach is swirling with happy flutters. “You have a lot of faith in your investment, Mr. Webber.”
His lips feather across mine. “It’s easy to feel confident when I’m dealing with you.”
I taste another swirl of leather and ink on the back of my tongue, but then there’s something happening below that has a wave of chatter swelling across the floor.
The audience’s attention has turned towards the stage, where the star of the show is poking his head through the red velvet curtains. “You’re here!”