Chapter 3- If you don’t move!

POV Alejandro:

“Well…well.” Tom checked me in and marked my name down onto the book. “I think you’ve caught a whiff of a pleasant evening.”

A crafty way to put it. I regained my composure and adjusted my shirt which included tightening my tie.

My animalistic tendencies were coming out into play when I slowly swirled around and examined that room. My grey eyes were marbles that played a sideways ping-pong from the left to right. They kept enlarging as I brushed my fingers against my ear lobes like a puppy getting rid of flees.

I twitched and itched. Started to bend my back and stalk. A few others in the room began mimicking as it can often be a contagious dance between Alphas to challenge for a mate. They too must’ve smelt it. And figured that I would be the rival to contend with as its effect on me was unbalanced and unsteady.

I danced with them some more. But the smell disappeared and we each retreated. I made my way to participate with this party tonight. And left them to decode what had actually happened.

Like a drug, the whole night continued with me trying to forget the fix of what I smelt. A familiar smell that I couldn’t put a name to. I would’ve placed it close to the scent of sugar-cookies: a brand called snickerdoodles. I always had a sweet tooth; and that was giving my stomach so many cramps.

I was anti-social. I gave a few hellos and avoided a few eyes who wanted to get better acquainted. I decided that to pass the time quicker, I should get something to eat: a plate of food to satisfy my need for a distraction. My mouth chewing would help with the going-ons of this party and drown out the music.

Lots of beauty, shallow, and obviously in love with themselves. No harm in vanity, I thought, but what ever happened to good old fashion conversation? I was primed and proper, ready to find that scent, but that was it. My plate was stuffed with meats of all kinds: transported from the pleasant butchers of Wrendall.

Charcoaled, burnt, steaming, red, bloody, my plate was a mash-hold of blood and I devoured my food with my sharp incisors that tore through the raw pieces with more enthusiasm. I was uncaring to how messy it might have seemed. I wiped my mouth, but that was about it.

I got stuck with a few faces trying to start talk on what meat tasted juicer, by the table. And at the same time watching me to get me to speak. I ignored them, but stopped with my mouth full — and cheeks as stuffed as a plucked chicken — to find my eyes going back into the sideways ping-pong match again. The cookie-crumble wanted me to play.

But that cookie wasn’t alone. No. He was occupied by others who wanted a sugary treat. The rival dance was necessary, and now the gathering that surround the face that I hadn’t seen yet was hustling and bustling as if on a busy market and giving the highest bid.

These Alphas held wine glasses in their hands. Many of them had two, one for them, and another to offer to him. Some were giving the lad a cigarette. Another pulled out a lighter. As I came over to see if the poor individual was being suffocated, I settled my plate of meat onto the table by the bloody orange punch. I felt this overwhelming need to tell them all, “Give the guy some space!” And it was a howling command. My voice deep. One that caused the Alphas to take attention. But they continued. So, I gave it some more leg, “If you don’t move!”

They got the message when they could see that I wasn’t messing. I was rampant with this Omega’s odour. It was part of the reason why these Alphas dispersed with a bad mood flowing from their body language.

And when they did, I got a charming glimpse of the commotion that caused them to act as such vultures. He was a specimen I’d describe as edible and far tastier than my lure for raw flesh. A brief pause, and then a case of an irritable nature came from him.

Maybe he enjoyed the competitive nature of those Alphas with intentions to rip him to shreds and roast him. I for one, allowed myself all the time in the world to study and break down all I needed in terms of the cookie-dough he gave me below. He became intrigued with my subtle allure for wanting to just inhale and never exhale his presence.

He eventually came to me. “I’m not sure if I should thank you for removing the totty.”

“I’d hope I was doing you a favour. All that craziness and no room to think for yourself.”

“It was a little much. But it beats just sitting alone and not really wanting to…well, I just think it was a nice distraction.”

“I use food for that.” “And does it work?”

“Mmm-Hmm.” I picked up my plate. “To some extent.” My eyes enlarged again when I took in his odour. “Nothing says I’m busy like food does.”

“I might grab a plate…would you like some company?”

My loins spoke, “Sure. Come and join me by that low wall.” We moved to a quieter corner of the room, the soft hum of music now a distant backdrop to the palpable tension between us. I set down my plate on the low wall, the meat still glistening under the dim lights, and turned to face him fully. He seemed to radiate warmth, a magnetic energy that drew me in closer, as if we were orbiting around an unspoken truth.

His name was Lucas, a name I hadn’t expected to hear but was more than pleased to know. It rolled off his tongue with a casual elegance that contrasted sharply with the chaotic atmosphere we’d just escaped. He’d taken the seat beside me, resting his elbows on his knees, allowing his gaze to drift over the crowd. I couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers fidgeted, the subtle grace with which he handled his own plate—he’d opted for a selection of cheeses and crackers, a stark contrast to my carnivore’s feast.

“So,” he began, his voice steady yet soft, “what’s your story? Why the brooding façade?”

I chuckled, a deep rumble that felt foreign even to me. “Brooding façade? I didn’t realize I had one.” I paused, taking a moment to peel back the layers of my own pretenses. “I guess I’m just not a fan of the spotlight. The noise, the small talk…it’s all a bit much.”

Lucas nodded, his expression shifting from amusement to understanding. “I know what you mean. It’s like everyone’s playing a part, trying to impress each other instead of just being themselves.” He picked at a piece of cheese, considering it for a moment before popping it into his mouth. “It’s exhausting.”

I couldn’t help but admire the way he spoke, as if he were pulling at threads of honesty in a sea of superficiality. “So, what brings you here, then? If you’re not a fan of the scene?”

He shrugged lightly, a gesture that seemed to carry the weight of countless parties and expectations. “A friend dragged me along. Said it would be good for me to socialize. But honestly, I’d rather be curled up with a book or watching a movie.”

“Sounds like my kind of evening,” I admitted, leaning in slightly. “What’s the last book you read?”

His eyes lit up, the spark of genuine passion breaking through the veneer of the party. “Oh, it was a fantasy novel. Something about a hidden world and a prophecy. I love getting lost in those kinds of stories.”

“Fantasy? So, you’re telling me you’re not a fan of reality?” I teased, a smirk creeping onto my lips.

“Reality can be a bit mundane, don’t you think?” he replied, mirroring my expression. “Sometimes it’s nice to escape into something magical, even if it’s just for a little while.”

I nodded, feeling an unexpected sense of camaraderie. “I get that. Sometimes I think we all need a little magic in our lives.”

As we exchanged thoughts, the din of the party faded into the background. The other guests became a blur, their voices a distant echo. It was just the two of us now, exploring the depths of conversation like two adventurers charting unknown territory.

“So,” I asked, leaning back slightly, “what’s your escape? Beyond books, I mean?”

Lucas hesitated, and I could see the gears turning in his mind. “I like to draw. It’s a way to express what I can’t put into words. Creates a world that’s entirely my own.”

“Do you have a sketchbook with you?” I inquired, my curiosity piqued. “I’d love to see your work.”

He shook his head, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. “I left it at home. I didn’t think I’d need it tonight.”

“Next time, then.” I offered, feeling a strange sense of hope wash over me. “I’d like to see that world of yours.”

Lucas’s smile widened, and for a moment, I felt as if I’d stumbled upon something profound. The scent that had initially drawn me to him was still there, lingering in the air—a sweet, intoxicating aroma of warmth and possibility, like a freshly baked treat that promised comfort.

We continued to talk, weaving through subjects as easily as the laughter echoed around us, both captivated by the connection we’d forged in such a short time. But I could feel the evening shifting, the energy in the room pulsing with the kind of tension that signaled something was about to change.

And then, just as I was beginning to forget the chaos and lose myself in this newfound companionship, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. The Alphas were regrouping, their predatory instincts kicking in once more as they scanned the room for their next target. My heart raced as I realized they were zeroing in on Lucas, their eyes glinting with a mix of desire and challenge.

I leaned closer to him, my voice low and urgent. “We might not be alone for long. They’ll be back.”

He glanced over his shoulder, his expression shifting from curiosity to concern. “What do we do?”

“Stick with me,” I said, a protective instinct rising within me. “I won’t let them get to you.”