Sugar Coated

10

Delaney Linwood

Foster sat lounging on the pillows of Rosie's bed, "What's your omega's name again?"

I rolled my eyes, "He's not mine, Foster."

He rolled his eyes right back at me, a caricature of the action, "From what Rose has told me, he most definitely is, but we'll table that until you're ready for it."

He cleared his throat when I didn't answer him fast enough and it dredged up just enough pettiness that I considered holding out on him. "Why do you want to know?"

"Ooooh," he drawled. Both Foster and Rosie had an uncanny way of talking in italics. "So, suspicious, sweet Delaney. Afraid I'll get my hackles raised and try to steal you away?" Foster had an impish smile most days and an elfin face the others. With fine sharp features and eyes that turned up just slightly at the corners, he'd been too pretty to be anything other than an omega. We'd all known it as soon as he'd transferred into Prelims with us.

"Nope, because I know despite your horrid impatience, you'll respect my decision," I cut my eyes to Rosie's walk-in closet where she'd disappeared to look for something suitable to wear for my date, "and if by some twist of fate you didn't, Rosie would castrate you."

Like the biggest toddler known to man, he dropped back down into the pillows to pout up at the ceiling, "You're right on both accounts and I hate it."

"You're too nice for your own good," I smiled as I flopped next to him, into the bundle of pillows and blankets that smelled overwhelmingly of my friends.

"And there's nothing at all that I can do to convince you to join our pack and be our beta?" He smelled like an on-coming rainstorm, the air thick with the tang of ozone.

"If there was something I'm sure Rosie would have figured it out by now. I love you guys beyond words—"

"—But we're not your pack," the words were sad, tinged with the smell of rain. Foster huffed out a long sigh, "I get it. I understand that you have to find your pack, but dammit they better treat you right."

I twisted one of the locks of his hair around my finger until it curled and he nuzzled into my hand, "Trust me enough to be able to know if they will. Besides, maybe I don't have a pack out there. Maybe I'm meant to be a lone beta."

"You weren't made to be alone, Delaney. Anyone can see that" those blue eyes pinned me to the spot, seeing too much.

I pulled my hand away, the thunderstorm followed after swirling in the air around me until it was overwhelming, "yeah, well...we'll see I guess."

It was a lame response, but he let me get away with it. Rosie's grand entrance helped too, nearly bowling me over as she turned and all the clothes on her arm swung wide and slapped into me. "I come bearing the gift of options."

For a woman who had every article of clothing known to man, you'd have thought she'd at least have something that I wanted to wear. It was a good thing I'd never been a betting woman. I thought as I dropped yet another slinky satin blouse onto the bedding. The fabric was too slick and made a shiver rip down my spine —and not the good kind. It made my skin crawl and I itched to rub my hands on something more soothing, like worn cotton or a chunky knit fabric.

"Nothing?"

I rubbed my arms since that was the closest I could get, that feeling of the fabric of my hoodie soothing over the crackling feeling that lingered with the goosebumps. "I don't think so," I gingerly grabbed the strap of a sundress between the tips of my fingers as if it might consider the option of biting me. Not bad, but too cold out. Won't be comfy.

"You're going to go to your first date wearing one of those massive sweaters aren't you?"

"No." Yes.

"You smell like you're lying."

"I don't smell like anything and you know it," I pointed at my face, "beta remember? You've been drooling over my normalcy since high school when your designations set in and you got pulled into the night classes that I was exempt from."

"You're a beta?!" Foster squawked, "when were you going to tell us?"

I didn't have a pillow on hand, but I launched the dress at him. It worked out well enough, smacking him across the face, "keep playing and I'll leave."

He smiled around the fabric, "You do have a point, though. Borrowing clothes might be a problem since they'll smell faintly of us and I doubt you have enough de-scenter or the time to wash anything that you could get here thoroughly enough."

I'll bite. "Any reason why I shouldn't smell like my friends?"

Rosie chewed on the thought, "No, he's right. It would be reasonable to smell like us, but to show up in clothes that smelled obviously of us would be like a scent marker. An unconscious claim. Could be offensive."

"Would be offensive," Foster clarified. "If I were courting you and you showed up smelling like another omega...I'd get pissed —whether reasonable or not."

"What if he's breeding?"

Rosie gave me a slicing motion across her neck, but it was too late. I caught the snap of anger across Foster's face. "You think he's breeding?!" He rounded on Rosie, "You should have never brought her here. Shame on you, Rose. You know better than that!" When he leveled his attention my way I shrank back, omega or no I was in his territory; his domain. "Go home, Delaney. Scrub yourself raw. Better yet get some de-scenter on the way home and wash with it. If you catch even a whiff of me still on you after your shower spray on some synthetic perfume or something." He gave Rosie another murderous look, grumbling "it's like you learned nothing at school, Rose."

"We don't know that he's breeding," Rosie soothed, easing her hand down her omegas rigid back.

"What's his name, Delaney?"

"Emil West."

"I don't remember him in any of my mandatory designation classes, but I can check in with some friends and see," he reached for his phone on the end table and it pulled the waist of his button-up just enough to show a line of skin that had garnered Rosie's attention. "Can't believe you brought an unmated beta that's actively being courted by a breeding omega into this house, Rose."

"Is it really that much of a problem? It's not like you're perfuming or anything. The scents around her are all business, baby."

"Business or not, he'll make it his. Trust me...I'm kind of an expert on this. I'm not even breeding and am considering hunting the male down. He'll go wild. The best of the worst-case scenario is he gets aggressively territorial over you and won't let you leave until you smell like him. Worst? He'll kick you out...immediately."

I was inching towards the door that would lead into the living room of their apartment, "As always your interest and flattery are noted and appreciated. I wish I could reciprocate them. But with that terribly ominous admission, I think I'll see myself out."

Foster waved me off, effectively dismissing me. Rosie made as if to walk me to the front door, but I stopped her with a shooing "sit down" motion. "Take care of your omega."

"Go take care of yours," she shot back.

"He's not mine!" I couldn't hear if anyone laughed at that, wasn't even sure if wanted anyone to since I couldn't even muster a smile over the sentiment.

He's not yours, Delaney. He's Jackson's and Andres. He's the Sinclair pack's.