My Perfect Mess

Scarlett’s POV

“Come on, Omega.” His raspy voice was too close to my ear as he grabbed my elbow and dragged me forwards, forcing me towards the swelling crowd under the marquee. 

My palms started to sweat, but he’d punish me if I tried to wipe my hands now. He’d bought me this gown, after all – every inch of its gauzy, flowing silk belonged to him. Just like I did. 

“Hurry up.” He shoved me again; I stumbled. “Would you prefer to return to the pack house, Omega?” Alpha Ryker’s voice dipped into a growl, and it took everything in me to keep from shuddering. 

“No, Alpha.” I ducked my head, my cheeks flushing. But I’d say or do anything it took to attend the Mating Ball tonight.

“Say sorry.”

My face burned. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled.

“Say: ‘I’m sorry, Alpha.’”

I curled my hands into fists. “I’m sorry, Alpha.”

He patted my head, ruffling my wavy auburn hair. “There we are, Scarlett. Now, was that so hard?”

Yes, I wanted to scream. Everything had been hard since my parents had died in a freak accident a little over a year ago. Rather than being allowed to remain living in their house – my house, my childhood home – as a Warrior Wolf, I’d been taken into Alpha Ryker’s care, my rank dropped to that of an Omega, and I’d been living in the pack house as his servant ever since. 

Only servant was too nice a way of putting it, really. Just as he owned my dress, he owned me. I was his slave, forced to do his bidding if I wanted to remain a member of the Desert Oak pack.

“No, Alpha Ryker,” I made myself say, unfurling my hands and letting them hang limply at my sides. My head hung too; even the excitement of the Mating Ball couldn’t keep me from feeling ashamed.

I’d felt ashamed long before my parents had died. Being the only werewolf in the Desert Oak pack – and probably any of the four Wolven Realms – that couldn’t shift into a wolf was pretty embarrassing. No, it was worse than that: it was utterly, completely humiliating.

“That’s better.” He patted my head again. I tried not to squirm. “Now, remember: you’re here to serve me tonight. That’s all, Omega. Look at me.”

I ground my teeth together before schooling my face into a vague expression of nonchalance. Ryker Oak, Alpha of the Desert Oak pack, was smirking down at me. Not that he had an awful lot of height from which to look down at me from – he couldn’t have been more than five foot eight, though he told everyone he was six foot two.

He scrubbed a hand through his thick, short beard. Like his hair, it was light brown – and right now it was making his smug smirk all the more apparent. He flexed his muscles and rolled his neck, the joints snapping and popping, and then, at last, his washed-out blue eyes met mine.

My gaze settled on his crooked nose, which had set at an odd angle over and over again after being broken in multiple fights. I’d once been told that looking between someone’s eyebrows or at the bridge of their nose unsettled people, so I’d made a habit of always doing it to Alpha Ryker. It was only a small way of getting back at him for all the hurt he’d caused me, but it was better than doing nothing at all.

He gripped my chin with his meaty fingers and forced me to meet his eyes. “You are nothing, Omega. Eighteen or not, you won’t find your mate tonight. In fact," he paused, his smirk turning sickly, "without a wolf-side, you won’t ever find your mate.” He smiled slowly, baring his teeth at me – but his eyes narrowed. “Don’t try anything. There are other packs here tonight, other wolves, but none of them will take pity on you like I have. You are nothing,” he said again, so simply, like my life was truly nothing because I couldn’t shift. To him, I supposed that it was. “And I have done you a great kindness in allowing you to live in my pack house and serve me.”

I said nothing. A muscle ticked in my jaw.

“Say it,” he breathed, his fingers tightening on my chin. His breath smelt like stale wine. “Tell me that I have been kind to you.”

My throat bobbed. Even though we were outside, stood beneath the open twilight sky, I felt like the walls of the world were closing in on me.

 He gripped me harder. Hard enough to leave bruises. I flinched.

“You’ve been kind to me.” Revulsion made my gut churn. “You’ve taken me in where others would not.”

Seemingly satisfied, he nodded and released me. “You would do well to remember that, Omega.”

“I will,” I said. Anything to keep him from breathing on me again.

He nodded again. Then he pushed his chest out took a deep breath. “Stay by my side,” he muttered. “You are to do exactly as I say. And – don’t embarrass me.”

I smiled sweetly. His bad breath would do that all on its own.

The smile froze on my lips as he glared at me. Ducking my head, I mumbled, “I won’t, Alpha.”

“You’d better not.” The threat was clear in his tone, and this time I couldn’t keep from shuddering. He grinned a predator’s grin at me, his pale eyes cruel, and then I followed him into the fray.

The marquee was pretty inside and out: shrubs and river red gum trees shone with golden light, and soft round bulbs reached inside, casting the ball in an ethereal glow. A fountain, in the shape of a wolf carved from red rock, spilled glittering water down its body and into a glimmering round pool at its base. Dusk had turned the sky purple, and silver stars peered down at us from above whenever we stepped beyond the borders of the white tent.

It was pretty, but that was it. That was all. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, not exactly, but… well. I guess I’d hoped that, despite everything, despite the fact that it was impossible, I might find my mate tonight. I was eighteen now, the age from which all werewolves could, in theory, find their mate – but I’d turned fifteen three years ago and I still couldn’t shift.

With every year that had passed with my wolf-side remaining dormant, my life had only got worse. My friends had left me behind, choosing to side with the pack and taunt me. Then their taunts became physical: it had started with tripping me up and knocking my books out of my hands, which became pulling my hair, which became punching me, which became kicking me.

I’d thought I’d hit rock bottom. Things literally couldn’t get any worse.

And then my parents had died.

“Cheer up, Omega,” Alpha Ryker muttered out of the corner of his mouth. “This is a ball, after all. Smile.”

I looked up from the prissy silk slippers I’d been forced to wear and bared my teeth at anyone who came near us. They all looked the same to me: a swathe of bulky, too-muscular men and lean, wiry women, lit prettily by fairy lights and soft orange bulbs strung across the top and sides of the marquee. A string band played softly in the corner, hidden to me by the broad shoulders of the guests. I tried to let the sweeping sounds of the violin and cello lull me – to no avail.

“Smile better,” he grunted, elbowing me. “The Mating Ball only comes round once a year, and this is the first time our pack has had the chance to host it since I became its Alpha.” 

A shiver wracked through him, and for a moment he lost his careful composure. Before anyone could notice, though – at least, anyone who wasn’t forced to be in his company almost every hour of the day – his face hardened back into its usual mask. 

Ryker’s jaw clenched, pulling his beard taut. “Look like you’re enjoying yourself.” He grabbed my arm; I flinched. “Do better. You won’t disappoint me tonight.” His grip tightened and then, after what felt like an eternity, he let it go. 

I refused to rub my arm, even though it throbbed and I was sure his fingers had left bruises in their wake. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

He arched an eyebrow at me. Biting back a sigh, I forced a smile onto my mouth.

“Better.” 

“Thank you, Alpha.”

He nodded approvingly. The second he turned his back, I let my lips fall into their usual scowl. He had to be the worst person here – and of course I’d been born into his pack, forced into his service, and forced to stay here. 

Hell, I’d give an arm and a leg to travel to the human lands and live there instead as one of them. But oh no, I wasn’t allowed that sort of peace. I had to stay here, a wolfless werewolf, and do my damn duty as the pack punching bag.

My scowl turned bitter. I’d swap my fate with anyone’s. Literally anyone else’s.

Although… there was one pack worse than mine. My eyes drifted over the crowd, never settling on one person for long enough to take their appearance in. I wrung my hands together, dutifully trailing behind Alpha Ryker as he greeted his guests. I half-listened as he spoke proudly about the ball, more focused on my own malaise than his bragging.

At least I don’t belong to Alpha Enzo’s pack, I thought. He was here somewhere; I knew because Ryker had used him as a threat more than once in the run-up to the Mating Ball, telling me he’d send me away with him if I didn’t behave. He was the only Alpha more cruel than Ryker, with a reputation that spanned all four of the Wolven Realms and every pack within them. 

I could remember everything Ryker had said about Alpha Enzo, from his crude descriptions of his beastly black eyes and dark hair, to the cut of his cruel mouth and the way his muscles bulged with rage when he clenched his fists. He’d said that whole packs shrunk back from him when he spoke, such was the power in his body and words. Nobody dared go near him or his wolves, for they were all as evil as he. Approaching Alpha Enzo was as good as a death sentence.

I’d wanted to ask Ryker if he had a crush on Alpha Enzo, because he spoke of him with such star-struck eyes, but the cut of his cruel mouth and the rage in his clenched fists had kept my mouth closed.

“–And this is my servant, Scarlett Woodrush.” 

My ears pricked up. Before I could process what was happening, Ryker was hauling me forwards. I tripped over my own feet, half losing one of my silk slippers in the process. I struggled to shove my heel back in as Ryker straightened me up, a possessive hand running down over the loose waves of my hair before coming to rest in the dip at the small of my back.

Without a wolf-side, I couldn’t mindlink. But I was pretty sure Alpha Ryker would be sending me some choice words right now if I could.

“Alpha Victor,” he hissed, “of the Snow Mountain pack, from the Russian Realm.”

The thought hit me before I could stop it: would he be my mate? My salvation? My ticket out of here?

I looked up. And up and up and up. He was huge, from his height to the breadth of muscles banding his shoulders and neck to the size of his too-white pointed teeth. My throat worked on a swallow.

“Hello,” I whispered, my voice sounding tinny to my own ears. Ryker’s nails bit into my back, hard enough to leave marks. I cleared my throat and tried again: “Good evening, Alpha Victor. It is an honour to meet you.”

Alpha Victor smiled grimly at me. “So you’re the worthless scrap of an Omega that can’t shift?” His dark eyes glittered as they darted back to Ryker. “She’s prettier than I expected. For an Omega, anyway. I can see why you keep her around, Ryker.”

My heart dropped.

I’d been stupid. So, so stupid.

There was no salvation. Maybe Alpha Ryker was right – maybe he was the best option. Maybe I should be grateful for his care. I had a roof over my head, and I got to eat leftovers, and the beatings weren’t so bad, not really – 

I sniffed. Hard.

That smell – it was intoxicating. It was crisp night air and the heat of a bonfire beneath an open sky. I breathed in deep again, desperate to cling to every morsel of it. Unable to stop myself, I stepped back, certain that it had to be coming from the fire burning outside. I just needed to get closer – 

The back of my neck prickled. There were eyes on me. I could feel them. Only… only it was more than that. It felt like every inch of my body was being laid bare, stripped of everything that Ryker had forced me to wear, so that the person looking at me could really see me. Not even my body – me. My heart. My soul.

The smell deepened. It filled out with sea salt and cedar and something musky, something manly. The earth turned, but I stayed still. 

My gaze snagged on a man. Just a man, just the back of his head, on his dark hair and the strong line of his shoulders beneath his suit, but to me he was so much more. The smell grew stronger; my feet carried me, without tripping, without stumbling, through the crowd like a ghost. I was weightless. For a moment, I was free.

“Mate,” I breathed. 

He turned around. My heart pounded in my chest; the air felt too thin for my lungs. I saw a sliver of tanned skin, of a hard jawline, of stubble – 

“Mate,” he said, in a voice that was somehow both liquid gold and rough as tree bark. 

I froze.

Black eyes widened as they met mine, and then his expression tightened. His lips pulled into a smirk. There was something familiar about his face, a half-memory tingling at the back of my mind…

“You’re my mate,” he said again, like he was testing the feel of those words on his lips. His smirk widened into a smile, one that made his dark eyes smoulder, and then he pulled me to him. He was all warm muscle, strong and firm; my eyes closed, my blood thumping loudly in my veins as I pressed myself onto my tiptoes, my lips pursing, eager to kiss – 

“Alpha Enzo,” interrupted Ryker, and then clammy hands were shoving us apart. “Get off her. That’s my servant–”

“Not anymore, Ryker.” Enzo glowered at him, and he yanked me free of Ryker’s grasp. “She’s no longer your servant. She’s my mate.” His arm tightened around my waist. “So she’ll be coming home with me.”