Happiness washes over me. “Thanks, Icarus.” Then I freeze. “Wait, what concessions?”
Icarus doesn’t look up from the paper, tapping his finger on it, but I’m pretty certain that he’s not reading it. “As a brave Omega once said,worth it.”
Destroyed by my own words.
Something moves sickly in my guts about Icarus owing my stepmom anything.
I swagger across the room toward him, jumping onto the ancient desk that groans in protest, threatening to collapse like it always does.
I merrily swing my legs.
Icarus casts me a disapproving glance, fighting to yank a paper out from underneath my ass.
I study Icarus’ strong jaw and the curve down his pale neck to his strong shoulders as he bends over the paper, smoothing it out with jerky motions.
I frown, as he traces a crease that runs down the center of the page like he can erase it by strength of will alone.
When he swallows, I shuffle to the side off his others papers guiltily.
Icarus carefully places down the crumpled page, as if it’s still as precious as the pristine one to the side, before glancing up at me.
Our gazes meet, and my heart flutters.
In moments like this, it frightens me how safe he makes me feel.
“You’re quiet. Well, quieter than normal, my sweet sin. Are you okay?” Icarus tilts his head, studying me in a way that makes me feel seen…like I am not a twice rejected Omega but worth taking the time to understand. “Is it because of the matching ball on Christmas Eve? I can find a way to get you out of working it if you want. We can pretend that you broke your leg or something.”
I give a small smile at this thoughtfulness. “It’d never work. Maya would still have me hopping around on crutches and serving drinks, probably holding the tray in my teeth.”
“Quite a skill.” Icarus reaches to push a strand of hair, which has fallen out of my ribbon, behind my ear. “But I was more worried that you’d see the Alcotts with their new Omega at the ball and it’d… Whoa, Grace…”
I can barely hear his panicked voice.
A wave of fear hits me.
Dizzy, I struggle to breathe.
It feels like I am dying.
I can’t…Their new Omega…?
Their scent match…their true scent match…the Omega who they abandoned Zoe and me for…
I can’t see them. Can’t face them. Can’t fucking see them worshiping their precious Omega, while I am forced to serve them.
“No…” I whine, trembling.
I lose control of my body in my panic attack, tumbling forward off the desk.
Icarus catches me, pulling me against his chest.
I am surrounded by his spicy hot apple scent.
Grace, Grace, Grace.
He’s calling my name. But I can barely hear him.
Instead, I’m remembering the Christmas two years ago, when my entire life fell apart.
