Fiona and the Alphas; a Christmas to remember

Fiona’s POV The gymnasium smells like peppermint, pine, and too much cologne. The glow of red, green, and gold lights makes everything look magical, but for me, it’s just another reminder that I’m standing here alone. The Christmas party is in full swing. Couples laugh, spin, and glide across the polished wooden floor, their fancy dresses and sharp suits swirling in rhythm with the music. I tug at the hem of my burgundy dress, suddenly wishing I’d picked something less tight. It felt cute when I bought it. Now, I feel like a spotlight is shining on me. I cross my arms, glancing around at the couples. Logan dances with his mate, Lily, his hands on her waist like she’s the only girl in the world. My heart aches for a second, but I shove it aside. He wasn’t mine to begin with. We were close — maybe too close — until his "true mate" bond with Lily snapped into place. Just like that, I became invisible. “Fiona, you okay?” My friend, Harper, leans in close, her eyes full of concern. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie, plastering on a smile. "Just thinking." “Thinking you need to stop moping and dance,” she says with a grin, nudging me with her elbow. Her date, Ethan, laughs as he dips her low before pulling her back up. "Come on, Fi. Someone will ask you. You just have to be patient." Patience. Right. I glance around at the sea of faces, none of them looking my way. I know I’m not ugly. I’m not stunning like Lily or bold like Harper, but I’m me. That should be enough. Shouldn’t it? The music shifts to something slower, sweeter. People pull their partners closer. My chest tightens. I glance toward the refreshment table, suddenly desperate for something to do. Punch. Yeah, punch is good. I can focus on that. I make my way over, weaving through clusters of people. The punch bowl is a sparkling shade of red, the ladle resting on the edge. I reach for it, trying to stay busy, when I hear them. "There she is." I freeze. The voice is low, smooth, and far too familiar. Slowly, I turn, heart pounding in my chest. Daniel. He stands there with that signature grin, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s got the whole world in the palm of his hand. His charcoal suit fits perfectly, his broad shoulders filling it out in a way that makes every girl in this gym notice. His sharp blue eyes lock on me like I’m the only one here. My heart skips a beat, and I hate it. “Don’t tell me you’re standing here all alone, Fiona,” Daniel says, stepping forward. His voice is soft, but it carries the weight of someone who’s used to getting what he wants. “Don’t tell me you care,” I shoot back, grabbing the ladle to fill my cup. He tilts his head, watching me with a lazy smirk. “I didn’t say I cared. Just making an observation.” Before I can respond, I hear a low chuckle behind him. Tristan. Of course, it’s Tristan. He’s leaning against the wall like he’s been there forever, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, his messy brown hair falling over his eyes just right. His grin is sharper, more mischievous than Daniel’s. Like he knows something I don’t. “Come on, Dani, don’t scare the girl,” Tristan says, walking up beside him. His eyes flick to me, and something about the way he looks at me makes me feel like I’m on stage. “She’s already nervous.” “I’m not nervous,” I snap, gripping my cup so hard it might c***k. “Sure you’re not.” Tristan winks at me, his eyes filled with amusement. "Don’t worry, Fi. You look cute when you’re flustered.” Before I can fire back, I feel a shift in the air. It’s subtle but undeniable. A quiet, steady presence. Xander. He’s standing a few feet behind his brothers, arms folded, eyes dark and serious as always. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. Xander never talks unless he has something important to say. He’s always watching, always calculating. The quiet one, but somehow the most intense. “Not joining the dance floor, Fiona?” Xander’s voice is lower, rougher, like gravel over silk. He looks at me like he’s trying to figure me out, and I hate that he’s so good at it. “Not everyone needs a partner to have fun,” I say, tilting my chin up. Daniel raises a brow. “Is that what you’re doing? Having fun?” I narrow my eyes. “What do you want, Daniel?” His grin widens like I just asked the most interesting question in the world. “Who says I want anything?” “Please. You always want something.” Tristan snorts, covering it with a fake cough. Even Xander’s lips twitch, like he’s holding back a smile. “Alright, fair enough,” Daniel says, stepping closer. I can smell his cologne now — warm, sharp, and expensive. “But tonight, I don’t want anything from you, Fiona.” “Good,” I say, turning back to the punch bowl. “Because you’re not getting it.” Silence follows, but it’s not empty. It’s that heavy, charged silence that makes the air feel thicker. I feel them watching me. Not just Daniel. All three of them. “Looks like you’re under it,” Tristan says suddenly, his voice soft but teasing. “Under what?” I glance up — and my breath catches in my throat. The mistletoe. It hangs above me, small and innocent, its white berries gleaming in the light. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat louder than the last. “Rules are rules, Fi,” Daniel says, stepping right into my space. Too close. Way too close. His eyes lock on mine, and for a moment, he’s not grinning. He’s just looking. Like he’s daring me to run, but he knows I won’t. “Don’t,” I whisper, my voice shaking just a little. “Don’t what?” Tristan’s behind me now. I can feel the warmth of him at my back, close enough to touch. “Don’t make this a joke,” I say, tilting my head, eyes darting between them. “It’s just mistletoe. It doesn’t mean anything.” Xander steps forward, his gaze steady and unyielding. “Does it?” My breath hitches. I’m surrounded now. Daniel in front, Tristan behind, Xander to my side. The music fades to background noise. The crowd of people dancing, laughing, all of it blurs. It’s just them. Just us. I step back, but Tristan’s there. He doesn’t grab me, doesn’t hold me, but his presence is enough. My heart’s racing, and I hate it. I hate how my body reacts, how my breath feels shorter, how every inch of me feels like it’s on edge. “Three Alphas and one mistletoe,” Daniel says softly, leaning in. “Tell me, Fiona. Which one of us gets the kiss?” My throat is dry. I glance at Xander, then Tristan, then back to Daniel. They’re waiting. No, they’re hunting. Their eyes are sharp, their movements too slow, too precise. I should walk away. I should run. But I don’t. Because something inside me — some wild, reckless part I didn’t know I had — refuses to back down. “None of you,” I say, straightening my back. “Because I don’t play your games.” Tristan’s grin sharpens. “Careful, Fi. You’re starting to sound like one of us.” “Yeah?” I lift my chin. “Then maybe you should be careful, too.” For a second, none of them move. Then Daniel laughs — low, deep, and real. He steps back, hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, Red,” he says, still grinning. “Game on.” He walks away, Tristan following with a wink. Xander stays for a moment longer, his gaze heavy on mine. Then, slowly, he nods once and walks away. I exhale, my knees shaking. What just happened? And why do I feel like something just began?