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Chapter twenty-four

Roan

It's tonight. It’s really happening. Oh gods, I'm going to be sick.

I've spent all day running around. There are so many tiny things that have to be done before a show that I’ve never considered before. Information cards, those tiny toothpicks for hors d’oeuvres, and oh yeah, the guest list.

Why did I let the mayor convince me this should be an invitation-only opening?

We invited basically everyone anyway. Why does it need an invitation?

Just because someone says they'll be here doesn't mean they will actually show up.

Everyone could mysteriously get food poisoning and have to stay home.

Is it better if no one shows up? I'm not sure I could cope with such a poor opening.

“Roan, darlin’?” Mitch grunts. “Is this good?”

I blink.

He and Maisie are holding up the final painting Barnaby has donated to the back wall on the ground floor.

It's some landscape in an Impressionist style.

Barnaby says it's of Hallow's Cove before the ruffians settled, but if you asked me, it could be literally anywhere.

The heavy golden frame is ornate and makes it look like a piece that actually belongs in a museum with a full team of conservators.

“Yes, sorry, that's perfect,” I say quickly.

They make quick work of securing the screws into the wall and placing the painting. I slip the postcard-sized information card into the acrylic stand balanced next to it.

“Nice work.” Maisie raises her hand for a high five, and I'm more than happy to agree. They have been absolute troopers today helping with the final prep work while Clay has been baking up a storm.

“Okay, you and Barnaby are still good to come by thirty minutes early, right?” I ask.

“For sure,” Maisie says. “Everyone’s dying to see their portraits.”

I nod. “Let's hope nobody tries to run me out of town afterwards.”

“Puh-lease.” She rolls her eyes. “This is great. Everyone loves a good reason to get dressed up, and you're providing free food. Nothing could go wrong.”

I don't tell my friend all the horrible ways in which it absolutely could go wrong. Those are inside thoughts.

“C'mon, darlin’,” Mitch cuts in, wiping the sweat from his brow. “We all need to get gussied up and put on our Sunday best.”

Maisie gives us a final salute as she walks out the front door. Mitch turns the lock behind her as I wave through the window.

“No more bad thoughts,” he announces. “Get that fine ass upstairs and cleaned up.”

I put my hands on my hips at his bossy tone. Mitch grins even bigger as he wraps me up in a hug. My shoulders slump into his warmth and sweet scent.

“You got this, Omega,” Mitch says. “Everyone is going to love it.”

I shake my head as stress tears come to my eyes.

“And if they don't, we can make Clay beat ‘em up.”

That does bring a weak smile to my face. Clay would never, but it's fun to think about. There's really nothing else I can do. Everything is hung up, tablecloths and decorations are placed. All that's left to do is shower and wait to open the doors to all of Hallow’s Cove.

“If we head up now,” Mitch says with a nudge of his hip in the direction of the stairs, “we can shower together and let our Alpha catch us having sexy times.”

My body heats at the idea, even as I laugh at the way he's said it.

“Well, I can't say no to that.”

Damn.

My Wolven look fit in a suit. Even if their idea of dress shoes are cowboy boots, they look hot as sin.

Clay adjusts Mitch’s jacket to make sure there are no stray pieces of lint.

His dark navy suit has already been pressed to death, and the black shirt underneath is spotless.

Unlike Mitch’s, which had been covered in hair and dust.

“We don't get dressed up often,” he says as an excuse. “Course it's disgusting.”

A trip to the dry cleaners was well in order for it and my own dress. Over the long flight and staying buried in the bottom of my suitcase, the designer garment had been a nightmare when I dug it out three days ago.

Now the structured material lays as it should. It's artistic and timeless. One of the few nice things my mother ever did for me was insisting I get this dress.

“I feel like we don't really need to go downstairs,” I say. “We could stay up here, ruin our smart outfits.”

“You ain't getting outta this,” Clay says. “Bad enough we're runnin’ behind because I couldn't say no in the shower.”

My tummy flutters thinking about the orgasms they just gave me. I could still go for more—certainly better than facing any crowd downstairs.

“It was a good shower and we got all squeaking clean,” Mitch says with a grin.

Clay grunts, herding us to the door. Mitch leads the way, and I'm happy about that. I don't think I could have taken the first step if I wasn't sandwiched between my mates.

On the first floor, Andri has set up a large bar, and Clay has arranged piles of bite-sized pastries for everyone to pick at throughout the night.

The building looks gorgeous, so incredibly different from when I first saw the inside.

I'd never even believe this place was shuttered for over fifty years.

I take a deep breath as I hear the chatter of the crowd downstairs. Their excited voices and laughter carry in waves. It rises and rises, threatening to overwhelm me and drag me under.

Clay tucks his finger under my chin. I look in his clear blue eyes and the shades of grey in his fur, and I realise he'd never let me sink. Mitch kisses my cheek and takes my hand.

“You got this, Omega. Everyone is going to love it,” he assures me.

“And before anyone can say it, we are so unbelievably proud of you,” Clay says. He swallows hard, eyes flicking to Mitch before focusing on me again. “We couldn't imagine sharing our life with anyone else but you, sugar.”

“We love you so much.”

Tears well up behind my eyes when I look at my mates. They love me. My heart swells like a big fucking balloon and bursts with happy confetti.

“I love you, too,” I blubber, trying to hold in tears so I don't ruin my makeup.

“Thank gods,” Mitch chokes, pulling us in for a hug. “Our pack.”

“Our pack,” Clay agrees.

“Are you sure we can't go back upstairs?” I ask one final time, only half joking.

My mates laugh, even as they lead me down the wider set of stairs to the ground floor.

It's crammed full of people. They all turn, Mayor Louise rushing up to me. I'm not sure exactly what she says, because my ears are suddenly full of cotton as all eyes land on me.

“...and now for the lady of the hour.”

It takes a beat for me to realise I'm that person. My cheeks heat and my palms dampen with nervous sweat. Why does this feel so much bigger than anything I’ve done before?

“Thank you, everyone,” I start, my voice shaking. “I know my presence in Hallow's Cove was a shock, considering no one knew the mayor had posted this job for a resident artist.”

There is a scatter of laughter, and I have to swallow to keep the rocks in my stomach at bay.

“But I can't thank you all enough for welcoming me into your community. I know it was a rough start for some of us, but I have never seen a more dedicated group of people. I appreciate you giving me your time and energy, your laughter and your wisdom. It is an honour to share the opening show of the Cove Arts Centre with you.”

And that's it. That's all the words I can muster before I awkwardly gesture for people to head upstairs. I stand at the bottom, flanked by Clay and Mitch like they're some kind of security detail. A rush of people move by, some congratulating me while others simply smile.

At the tail end of the group are three older Wolven. One walks with a cane, while others walk on either side of her like both her bodyguards and her dates.

“There’s my baby.” One grins from ear to ear, quickly breaking away from their pack. They scurry up to Mitch and wrap him in a big hug, despite being closer to my size.

“You came,” he says, voice going all soft. “We've missed you so much.”

Clay circles his arm around my waist as Mitch hugs the other two Wolven. The one with the cane eyes Clay and then me before breaking out into a grin I know all too well on our Beta. It's teasing and mischievous and clearly genetic.

“Well now, what do we have here?” Her voice is low, with a deep Southern drawl I thought only existed in movies.

“Mom,” Mitch says, speaking directly to her. “This is Roan. She's our Omega.”

I hold out my hand, but she pulls me into a hug tight enough to crack my back. Unlike Mitch, she smells sort of like nothing—maybe perfume—nd that is almost as jarring as the hug. I guess that mates’ smelling thing is more real for me than I thought.

“We're so happy to finally meet you,” she murmurs. “Mitch sent us the invite, teasing us with a special surprise.”

“Sweetheart,” a manly voice intones softly, “don't crush the poor girl to death.”

“Right, right. You can call me Rosey,” she says, pulling back but not letting go of me. “Clay, having a pack suits you.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” he says.

Mitch introduces me to his dad, John, and his mimi, Trish. They flew all the way up here to see the show tonight because Mitch asked them to. They're excited for an excuse to get away, and so happy to see their son with the pack they dreamed he'd have.

Before they make their way upstairs, I notice how Rosey and Clay shake hands, the whispered thank you that's just between them.

I'm not left with long to wonder about that, because it's finally time for us to head upstairs. Both lads kiss my cheek as we reach the top.

“Do your thing, sugar.”

I find Barnaby and Maisie first, dressed finely and staring at their opposing portraits. Old and new. Again, I'm pulled into a hug by Maisie when I ask them what they think.

“Extremely well done,” Barnaby says. “With the building and with our portraits.”

“Just how you remember it?” I ask.

“Better,” he says, a gentle smile forming on his lips as he looks at Maisie.