“I think a pack of five or smaller is ideal,” he says with a smile, but when he looks back at Forrest, I can tell he’s worried too.
“I haven’t considered this, but I would do anything to make an Omega happy. If that meant another Alpha in the pack, I would learn to be accommodating,” the large Alpha says.
His words relax me a little, it might not be what he envisioned, but he’s open and that’s all I could ask for.
After dinner is over, I don’t want the night to end, and apparently neither does Wells.
“There’s a silent disco at the nightclub tonight,” Wells says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “If you’d be interested.”
“Let’s do it,” I agree.
The ship is picking up speed again, but I thankfully don’t feel nauseated. I can’t determine if it’s from being around Forrest and his scent, or if maybe last night was a fluke.
Wells and I walk next to each other as Forrest trails behind. I can feel eyes on us everywhere we go and I do my best to ignore them.
I’ve had my fair share of unwanted Alpha attention before, but the level on the ship is unprecedented. It probably has a lot to do with Omegas not hanging out in common areas. They’re acting like they've never had a social interaction in their lives, and it has me on edge.
Maybe shoving a bunch of Alphas yearning for Omegas, and Omegas desperate for a pack into one enclosed space, wasn’t the most brilliant idea.
Having Forrest and Wells with me makes me feel safe, though.
The silent disco doesn't have many people in it,shocker.
Wells and I are handed headphones. The largest ones don’t fit Forrest’s head. He doesn’t seem to mind, as he takes a seat in a large, rounded red booth.
The nightclub is dimly lit, with a few strobe lights throughout, and, fortunately, very devoid of scents. I’m sure I look silly with these chunky headphones on, but everyone else is wearing them too.
Wells grabs my hand, leading me out onto the black tile dance floor. It’s an upbeat pop song as he grabs my hand, swinging me in a circle that makes me laugh.
He doesn’t give a single fuck about anyone around us as he bobs his head and grabs my hand, dancing to the song onlywe can hear. It’s silly, fun, and not something I would do back home.
I never thought I would be into a guy with longer hair, but on Wells it fits. Maybe it’s because I’ve seen his face so many times over the years, but it frames his strong jaw in the most delicious way. His smile is contagious, as is his spontaneity.
Most of the other people on the dance floor are lazily swaying to the beat, but Wells is dancing like he’s in the comfort of his home.
This man is like a gust of fresh air. How many times have I been to some function, thinking I had to look or act a certain way? Why did I ever even put that expectation on myself?
Wells spins me, my back pressed to his front as we move in rhythm with the music. We’re facing Forrest, who has the largest smile on his face as he watches us. I don’t want to leave him out, but he seems perfectly content just watching. Wells’ body is all muscle as I rub against him.
I haven’t had much experience with dating Betas. Actually, none.
It’s not that I’m anti-Beta, or not attracted to them, it’s just always Alpha packs who ask me out. But Wells has true confidence, not some pheromone-driven facade.
When I turn around, Wells puts his hands on my hips, and I sigh.
God, it’s nice to be touched. My parents were very good at showing me affection in the form of hugs so that I was never touch starved. It’s not like I was a saint, either. I had my dalliances with Alphas back home, but they meant nothing to me.
Something about him and Forrest’s touch lights something up inside me, something that’s been dormant.
A slower song comes on, and I lean in closer, resting my head against his chest, my fingers playing with the hair on the nape ofhis neck. He smells like Forrest, with a mix of whatever cologne he wears.
His hand rubs against my back and I just let myself drift off in the sweetness of it all. He might not be an Alpha, but I feel safe in his arms. The music picks back up to something more upbeat, but we don’t stop slow dancing.
Eventually, we part, both of us sliding down our headphones. The shocking reality of how quiet it is in the room with people dancing has a giggle making its way up my throat.
Wells rubs my arms, sending goosebumps over my flesh.
“Thank you for dancing with me,” he says.