Cillian has made a point of never being alone in a room with me since I started accepting interviews at the Enclave.
Unfortunately for him, both Ares and Poe have other duties to attend to, so he has no choice to remain with me while I finish getting dressed.
I'm due at the Enclave in less than an hour for an interview.
My third with the purple-haired Omega that I can’t seem to get out of my head.
Cillian’s mark on me itches like a bug bite, a reminder of the weakened, but persistent, bond between us. Our link has faded considerably since the day it was formed, but it hasn't gone away.
I'm painfully aware of the fact that it never will.
I adjust my tie in the mirror and catch him watching me now that my back is turned. "I can practically hear you thinking over there. You might as well spit it out."
Cillian’s reflection shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes dart away when I catch him staring, but not before I glimpse the raw emotion there.
"You don't have to go," he finally says, voice clipped.
"You know I do." I straighten my jacket, turning to face him. "The king made himself perfectly clear. Unless you can think of a good excuse to give him for why I can’t interview potential Omegas.”
Cillian's jaw tightens. "There are other ways?—"
"Like what?" I step closer, watching him stiffen. "Should I tell my father the truth? That I've already claimed one? That my guard commander has been lying about his designation for years?"
"Keep your voice down," he hisses.
"No one can hear us." I gesture around the empty room. "Just like no one can ever know about us. That was your choice, remember?"
"It was the only choice." His fingers curl into fists at his sides. "You know what would happen if the truth is ever discovered.”
"If people knew you were an Omega? Yes, I'm well aware of the consequences. You've made them perfectly clear." I adjust my cuffs, needing something to do with my hands. "You're a hypocrite, Cillian."
His head snaps up. "Excuse me?"
"You're jealous that I'm interviewing other Omegas, but you won't even let me tell Ares and Poe about us. They're our pack. They would protect you. Protect us."
"It's not that simple."
"It could be." I move closer until we're standing toe to toe. "But you'd rather I parade myself in front of eligible Omegas, pretending I'm not already claimed."
"It's your duty," he says, but his scent betrays him. It’s sharp with jealousy and fear.
"My duty." I laugh bitterly. "Tell me, when you watch me with these Omegas, does your mark burn like mine does? Does every smile and laugh I send their way feel like a betrayal?"
Cillian's composure cracks, just for a moment. "You know it does."
"Like I said, hypocrite."
"But it isn't Omegas plural, is it?" he challenges. "Multiple interviews, maybe. But just with the one. One Omega that you can't seem to get enough of."
My voice is clipped as I turn back to the mirror to try and fix this damn crooked tie. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"She's your scent match, isn't she? The one with the purple hair? Morgan, or whatever."
Maya.
The name echoes in my mind with the steady beat of a metronome.
The fact that her scent still sends a pulse of awareness curling in my gut, even with another Omega's mark torn into my skin, isn't something I care to admit.
