The Unwanted Omega

Chapter 4

An our earlier.

"You assured me you were going to organize a small gathering," Chelsea proclaims, her voice laced with a hint of accusation.

Kael can't help but hide a wide, self-admittedly guilty grin from her as they navigate their way back to his dwelling. "I did promise to arrange a celebration for your birthday," he clarifies, his tone playful. "However, I didn't make any mention of the scale or magnitude of the event."

He doesn't need to turn his gaze towards her to know that she's either rolling her eyes in exasperation or making a face at him. He can sense her reactions, almost as if they share a deeper connection.

"You always go above and beyond for me," she complains, her tone softening as she wraps her arms around him, bringing their shared stride to a halt. "I'm not that extraordinary, you know."

"Chelsea," he utters, her name echoing in the air with a sense of reverence. "You are my everything. This day marks a significant milestone for you, and I want you to commemorate it as you truly deserve. I will always find a reason to celebrate you, to honor you."

Her response is a soft giggle, followed by a tender kiss on his shoulder.

Their clothes are slightly wrinkled, a testament to their earlier activities. However, in a pack of wolves, it's hardly noticeable. He chooses to lead them back to the main house via a longer route. He selfishly craves a few more minutes alone with her before they'd be engulfed by a wave of well-wishers.

While planning her birthday party, he was acutely aware that he would have to forfeit some intimate moments with her, and that he couldn't monopolize her time. Yet, he knows how much she relishes being around the other wolves. She's probably one of the most sociable wolves he's ever encountered.

He was more than willing to make this sacrifice if it meant ensuring her happiness.

"You really invited the entire pack into your house all at once?" she queries, her voice filled with disbelief.

Admittedly, reflecting on it now, it doesn't seem like his most well-thought-out idea. There were enough of them that even in human form, they'd form a substantial crowd. Adding wolves into the mix, and he was certain that something of value would be irreparably damaged before the night concluded.

"Would you believe that I'm actually more concerned about the food in my refrigerator than anything else?" he retorts, a smirk playing on his face, trying to maintain a facade of nonchalance.

Her response is a hearty laugh, her joy echoing in the quiet night. The moonlight bathes her, making her skin glow with an ethereal light.

She appears almost otherworldly. There's a gentle luminescence about her, making her seem celestial even in her old sweatpants.

"I think that might actually be the first sensible thing you've said all evening," she chuckles, hiding her smile behind her hand. It doesn't do much to suppress her giggles; it's more of a habit than a functional gesture, but it's endearing nonetheless.

"I can't believe you've only now realized the peril you've put all your edible items in. Food would have been at the top of my concern list," she says, her laughter ringing in his ears.

"I guess that's the difference between you and me," he jests, his tone light. "You have a love for food and I, well, I love you."

She freezes, her sudden halt jolting him.

"What's wrong-?"

She's staring at him with wide, luminous eyes. The reflection of the moon in them is as clear as day. Her lips part, but the words she wants to say remain unspoken.

He knew, though. She didn't have to say it.

They've been together since they were twelve, but neither of them had ever confessed their love for the other. There wasn't any real reason apart from the agreement they made when they were fourteen; they wouldn't force or rush anything. Whatever happened would have to happen naturally.

And it did.

He realized he was in love with Chelsea a long time ago, and it was something he kept to himself. Not because he was afraid she didn't feel the same way, but because it was something that didn't seem like a secret to him.

His love for Chelsea was like common knowledge to him: facts like the sky is blue, the sun rises every morning and sets every evening; the grass is green, and so on.

"Is that true?" she whispers so quietly, as if she's afraid she'll startle him. It makes him chuckle.

"It isn't how I wanted to tell you," he admits, drawing her into the warmth of his arms and pressing his lips to her forehead. "I had planned something more romantic, more fitting for the occasion."

"Romantic?" she repeats, her voice laced with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

He takes a deep, calming breath, letting it out on a thoughtful hum. "Well, firstly, I'd invite you over to my place and perhaps prepare your most cherished meal for dinner. We could settle on the couch and engage in our usual heart-to-heart conversations, you know, the ones where hours seem to slip by unnoticed?"

"Those are my most cherished evenings," she murmurs into his neck, causing him to smile and continue.

"We would then take a leisurely stroll together, perhaps to the ravine we usually visit during the full moon," he explains, painting a picture of the night as he had initially envisioned it. "And then, I'd make a grand, sweeping gesture, confessing my love and laying my heart bare for your acceptance- ow, hey!"

She withdraws her hand as if to strike him, but he wriggles out of her grasp and ducks to avoid the next attempted hit.

"I am trying to be romantic here. Why are you attacking me?" he asks, striving to maintain a serious expression.

"You are so full of it," she laughs, her eyes shimmering with amusement. "You can never be serious. How am I supposed to know if you truly love me when you're always cracking jokes?"

With all the tenderness he can muster, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and brings her hand to his lips, his amusement evaporating.

"I love you, Chelsea," he confesses, the smile that spreads across her lips more radiant than any masterpiece he's ever seen. She is, without a doubt, the most breathtaking creature alive. "I think I've been in love with you since the moment I met you, but I'm absolutely certain of it now."

"I love you, too," she responds, her voice choked with emotion, tears glistening in her eyes. "Oh my gosh, it feels so good to say it out loud. I love you, Kael!"

Hearing her say it feels incredibly good, and the remainder of the walk back to the house is a blur of whispered giggles and stolen kisses.

As he'd predicted, the instant they cross the threshold, the crowd in the house erupts into cheers and drunken whoops, all of them rushing forward to embrace Chelsea.

He's not thrilled about this, and his wolf instinctively claws at his insides when other males linger around Chelsea, but he suppresses the fierce protectiveness and forces a smile onto his face. It's like an endless line of 'hello, thanks for coming, enjoy the party' until finally his dad makes his way forward, quickly dispersing the crowd for them.

"Thank you," he exhales once most of the wolves have finally left them to rejoin the party.

His dad chuckles and lifts his shoulder in a nonchalant half-shrug, looking down at him with a smirk. "You'll get there one day, kiddo. Just give it time."

His dad is still taller than him, a biological inconvenience, if you ask him. It's only because he's not the Alpha that he hasn't reached his height yet. He enjoys it. He can see it on his face, but only because he worries that he's growing way too fast.

"I don't like it when they get so close," he admits under his breath, hoping Chelsea won't hear him. "It was bad before, but now it feels wrong."

"That will happen," his dad explains, nodding in greeting to a passing wolf. "You might even find that you get even more protective once she's carrying pups."

"Which is far, far from now," he adds, just to make sure his dad doesn't go off on another lecture about lineage and bloodlines.

"Sure, sure," his dad says, as if waving it off. He lets it slide, not really looking for an argument at Chelsea's eighteenth birthday party. "But just remember that-"

Whatever he's about to say is cut off by a loud crash coming from the back of the house, near the buffet tables. Chelsea turns to him in a panic but he squeezes her hand.

"I'll handle it," he promises, kissing her cheek before moving towards the source of the disturbance.

The wolves gathered around were all laughing, and it prickles his skin. Instead of helping whoever is in trouble, they are laughing like it's the greatest joke they've ever heard.

He pushes through the last few wolves, blocking his path and- oh. "Andrea? Are you okay?"

Andrea is slowly pushing herself up off the mess of shattered glass and food, the table buckling under the weight. Her shoulders tense when she hears his voice, and when she looks she can't meet his eyes.

"Who the hell did this?" he snarls, a burning rage taking hold of his chest.