Bad Savvy! My God woman, you have to get it together.
I groan inwardly, barely managing to keep it contained. Would he notice if I sniffed his hoodie again? Maybe another hit of his scent will calm me down.
I was going to give him a big pep talk, followed by a platonic hug, but my instincts took over. I knew it was coming, but I had hoped I wouldn’t start showing signs of presenting as an Omega until after my eighteenth birthday. That was still about six months away, but being around a compatible alpha is doing weird things to my system. I don’t think Oliver has realized what was happening, which is good. I need to get away from him as soon as possible before he catches on.
A few minutes later, we arrived at Ferality. There is along line of people waiting to get in, but it seems to be moving quickly. I’m kind of surprised when Ollie gets in the back of the line with me, his name would be on the list to get in right away if he was performing. I don’t mention it though, greedy for these extra few minutes with my Alpha.
What the fuck Savvy? Your Alpha? Ollie? Come on girl.
I glance over my shoulder at my – at Oliver, who is currently trying to brush his blonde curls away from his eyes. He catches me looking, his piercing green eyes meeting mine and shoots me a sheepish grin. “It’s not usually this long, I just haven’t had time to get it cut.”
Without meaning to, I run my fingers through his curls. “You don’t need a haircut; your curls are gorgeous. I could play with them for hours.”
I could also use them to guide your mouth down to mine…Or other places.
My eyes widen when Oliver jerks me into his body, his head dropping to my neck. He lets out a low growl when he gets a hit of my scent.
Dammit Savvy! You were supposed to get away from him, not think about his mouth all over you.
“Savvy,” he lifts his head to look at me, his pupils huge. “I’m so sorry for grabbing you, but holy shit you smell so good.” He drops his head, getting another hit of my scent and I swear I sigh at the intimacy of it all.
This is bad. I push gently against his shoulders, taking a step away from him. The distance hurts, but it gives me enough time to clear my head a bit.
“You like my perfume?” I ask, forcing a laugh that sounds nothing like me. “The lady at the store said it would have this effect.”
“Perfume?” Ollie looks so confused. “Savvy, I’m sure the perfume you’re wearing is great, but that smell is no perfume.” He runs his hand across his face. “Fucking hell, you’re an Ome-”
“I’m a Beta,” I lie, interrupting him quickly. “I mean, I'm only seventeen, so there might be a chance I still present as something else. Both my parents are Betas so I doubt it.”
Liar.
Luckily, the line starts moving again, and by the time we get to the front, Oliver seems to have dropped the conversation for the time being.
“IDs, please.” A guy wearing a shirt with the club logo asks when we get to the entrance. Oliver pulls his ID out, handing it to the guy. “Uh, do you know where I can find Mr. Nash? I’m supposed to check in with him when I get here.”
Perfect, while Oliver is busy with that, I can sneak off.
“He should be in his office,” he gives Oliver two stamps on his hand, one to show he is under twenty-one, the other to grant him backstage access. “Just go left once you get inside, one of the bartenders will take you to him. Good luck tonight dude.”
“Thank you.” Oliver gives him a little head nod.
“Can I see your ID miss?”
Shit.“I forgot mine at home, is that a problem?" My ID is in my bag, but I don’t want any evidence that I was here tonight. I also don’t want Oliver to know my last name; he could track me down with it.
“She is with me,” Oliver adds helpfully.
“It’s no problem, I’ll just have to give you the underage stamp without it.” I hold out my hand to get stamped, then pull out my wallet to pay the admission fee.
The door guy waves me off, “You’re with someone performing. Admission is free. Have a good night, guys!”
I smile at him and say a quick thank you, before falling into step next to Oliver as we head inside.
The club is packed full of people, some on the dancefloor, others closer to the stage, listening to the band performing. The right side of the club’s walls are lined with dark leather booths, filled with people having a drink and enjoying each other’s company. The interior of the nightclub is bathed in moody, shifting neon lights that dance playfully off mirrored surfaces.
As I weave through the crowd with Oliver, my senses are overloaded with the scent of sweat and alcohol. I pull Ollie’s hoodie to my nose, breathing in his scent, and immediately feel calmer. We make it to the bar, and Ollie pulls out a seat for me before waving over a bartender.
“Do you want anything to drink, Savvy?” he asks right next to my ear, the music making it almost impossible to hear unless you’re shouting or in very close proximity.
