амега (peterick)

vingt-sept.

Life sucks without Pete. It's so boring. I'm so bored.

It's eight o'clock. There's nothing on the TV; they won't even broadcast the ball for another two hours, and even then it'll only be a fluffy news update. I'm a little bit drunk. A little bit.

I wonder what Pete and Dallon are doing right now. I hope they're having fun, but not too much fun. If they're eating nice food, they'd better bring some back home with them for me to eat. Ice cream and salted chips aren't really filling on their own, not even with vodka (I've run out of that, too). Their flavours counterbalance each other so intensely, it's impossible not to eat them one after the other, again and again and again. Blame the hormones.

My next heat isn't due for another week at least, but I'm already starting to feel the symptoms. The Omega body often enjoys worrying you that something bad is about to happen. It's probably just down to lack of human interaction.

I lie across the couch in my black, dip hem dress and cackle pointlessly, because I've looked at myself naked in the mirror at least seven times today. Pete would never let me walk around the house with no clothes on. I wouldn't let me, either. I'd giggle too much. It's fun, though. Freeing.

The dress in question in strapless and falls down to mid thigh. It's elastic, tightly fitted, but it's got this ruffled, nylon netting that flares down to my ankles from the waistline; the silky mesh is longer around the back and sides, while open at the front. Sort of like a huge veil. The breasts are also padded, so I don't have to wear a bra underneath it. But, possibly my favourite thing about this dress, is that it's covered in thousands of silver sequins. It's the perfect mix of formal elegance, just about simple enough to wear out on a casual date night, but also sufficient to be worn at conventional occasions, like a prom or a wedding.

A wedding. I've never been to a wedding before. I can't wait to get married someday. I hope I can get married to Pete. That would make this dress even more perfect. Plus, I'd actually wear it somewhere for once.

A loud thud resonates from the front door, and I sit bolt upright. Are they home already? Because that was fast, if they are...

The door doesn't click softly like it normally does when Pete and I unlock it after getting home from a grafting evening at work. Rather, it flings open at a hundred miles an hour, banging against the wall so hard I'm afraid it's going to leave an unfixable dent. And of all the people I expected to storm into our house uninvited at this time of night, Allie is not one of them.

"-fucking hands off me!" she growls as she trips over the threshold, followed closely by a suited, stone faced Alpha I've never seen before. He has his big hands enclosed around her biceps, but she rips herself angrily out of his clutch. "I have two feet, I can walk myself."

I stand up from the couch, jaw agape in utter shock. "Allie?"

She blows her fringe exasperatedly out of her eyes and smiles deceitfully. "Hi, honey. I told them to knock, but my little brother's a bit of a shit." She eyes my outfit up and down. "Beautiful dress, by the way."

"Leo?"

"You know my brother, do you?"

"I wish I didn't."

"Wonderful. I'm going to rip the fuckers teeth out when he gets in here," she snarls.

Right on cue, a second pair of people stagger through the door, the smaller of the two figures revealing himself to be none other than B, arms pulled tight behind his back. The Alpha restraining him throws him carelessly, and he collapses onto the floor, heaving and sputtering blood, knuckles split and lips swollen. I can't move. "Brendon..."