Page 5 of Gold Rush
Seth smiles. “And also no longer panicking.”
He’s annoyinglyright. My breathing comes a little easier as I shoot him a disgruntled look, my mind whirling as the entire elevator jolts again.
“Oh my god.” Jerking, I grab onto Seth’s arm, my other hand over his on my sweater, clinging to him as the lights flicker. There’s another metallic screech and I press closer to him, over my embarrassment and instead choosing to embrace the abject terror of death by elevator. His alpha — Bennett — leans forward, his body moving to cover both of ours, one hand bracing on the side of Seth’s neck, holding him in place. The other lands so close to me that the air charges — but there’s no touch accompanying it — just the awareness that his protection extends tome, not just his bonded.
There’s a wash of perfume, and my mind feels fuzzy, like it can’t function with the combination of smells. It’s not in the unpleasant way of chemical mixtures from the general public — this is bone-deep, like my body is reacting to them before my mind can. Seth’s body tucks closer to mine in the way only someone doe when faced with unexpected chaos. Together, the three of us are a bundle of limbs, like I’m not a perfect stranger to them.
The entire box shakes before it starts to rise once more.
“Sorry about that, folks.” The voice over the speaker sounds embarrassed. “Someone stepped out for a smoke and accidentally hit the emergency brake. You should be moving again.”
Bennett’s face tilts, his head directly between mine and Seth’s. This close I cantastehis natural perfume, a burst of citrus, like zesting an orange, or the spray of juice when your nail breaks the skin. My head spins as I stare up at the stranger, sucking in a deep breath. Everything is sweet, and it takes me a second to recognize the other scent as fudge, warm and gooey. It all almost has a layer ofextrasugar over it — and Bennettsuddenly leans away, standing firm and tall above us, hands extended.
Seth rises first, taking one of his hands, before he turns his attention to me. Both of them help me up from the floor and I shuffle back a half-step, feeling flushed as I tug on my sweater, my palms sweaty.
This elevator is too small, too warm.
“Thank you.” I throw the words at them. I feel like I’m swallowing spoonfuls of honey.
Bennett’s eyes linger, his lips parting before the elevator jolts to a stop. I stumble slightly, looking up as the doors open to the rooftop. We couldn’t have been stuck for more than ten minutes, but there’s a group of people standing in front of the elevator, multiple hotel staff members with wide eyes, and then two men, one white, and one Indian, who push through the crowd.
“Are you both alright?” The Indian man grabs Bennett the second he turns, and I slip past them, looking away as the white man checks them both over frantically.
My eyes catch his for a moment, but I tear them away the second I hear a shout. “Were youstuckin there? Are you okay?” Michaela grabs my arm and drags me to the side, her eyes wide.
“It’s okay.” I find my voice, putting my back to the chaos, sucking in a breath. “I’m okay.”
Michaela shakes her head at me, squeezing my arm. “You look rattled. Let’s get you a drink.” She grabs my sweater, tugging me forward, throwing over her shoulder. “You smellreallygood, are you wearing a new perfume?”
“We’ll makesure the queue is tidy and then come get you for the signing.” The beta bookseller gives me a faint smile before shutting the door to the back office.
I feel like I haven’t been able to function in the last forty-eight hours. It’s been one thing after another. Michaela and I had a couple drinks, and I relegated myself to a half glass of white wine and salty french fries, trying to keep my nausea at bay as she peppered me with questions about the “alphas in the elevator.” When I told her I was certain one was a beta, like us, she shrugged.
“I mean, there was some…” She makes a face. “Tension when the doors opened. Or did nothing happen?”
I laughed at her and said nothing happened — even though I felt eyes on the back of my neck the entire time I sat at the bar.
And then I took the elevator down to my floor, showered, collapsed into the hotel bed — and proceeded to toss and turn for the next eight hours, unable to rest even though I was exhausted.
When I did drift off for a couple hours of sleep this morning, my dreams were weird, flashes of hands on my arm and voices telling me it was okay. I’d woken up nauseous with another headache developing. So, in desperation, I’d ordered the too-expensive room service breakfast, picked at it, and tried to linger in my hotel room as long as possible before coming to the bookstore.
It’s been a long day.
Rubbing my forehead, I crack open the seal on the water bottle left for me and take a long drink, draining it as I go over everything that I just said to the group of readers. There was a short question and answer session that everyone sat down for, with a few people asking about my next release, and any news on the rumors about the movie rights. While I wasn’tlegallyallowed to say much, I did tease it a little.
But I’m tired.
I set out to become a writer because I wanted to create stories. It’s so rewarding to be able to communicate and meet readers, but it drains me to constantly be ‘on’ all the time. I don’t wantanyonewho takes their time to come meet me to walk away ever feeling like I wasn’t fully present, but it takes a lot of my energy to keep the smile plastered on my face. It’s the entire reason I’ve never done a huge tour, even though my publisher had requests for appearances two releases ago.
“We’re ready for you, June!” The bookseller pokes her head back in and I stand up, smiling immediately and smoothing out my outfit before going to rejoin the throng of people.
The line moves quickly after I get seated and greet the first person, personalizing the girl’s paperback and sliding a bookmark into it for her with character art on it.The Pack and Iwas an underdog, but publishing really enjoyed the contemporary twist on pack romance. It’s not like I have any experience with alphas and packs, but I had the idea in college to write about an omega who wanted to get her educationdespitethe world around her encouraging her to get married, bonded, and skip it. It never made much sense to me that an entire designation are told they should only aspire to find a partner, or partners.
Omegas, as a designation, aren’t common. Betas make up a good sixty percent of the population, with alphas being a solid thirty. And in the romance world, most books are written by betas, for betas. I reached out to a few omegas I knew in my introductory lit classes when I started developing the book and after talking to them, I decided to just go for it.
I never expected that a random daughter of a Hollywood director would read it this past summer, years after its release. Suddenly, I found myself in talks to sign the film rights away to my story about a young omega getting a law degree and finding herself in love with three alphas.
I’ve heard from readers through the years that the story means a lot to them, and it’s what drives me to do these events in the first place, even if they do make my skin crawl.
