Gaius nodded, waving for the camera to follow. "Of course, go right ahead."
Flashing a sultry smile, the white-haired omega took a sip from his straw while extending a hand to greet me. "Alaric."
"Crimson."
"I can see that." Alaric let out a soft laugh, glancing at the red streak in my hair. "Does the dragon match?"
"It does."
Excitement glimmered in his eyes. "Wow. I can imagine how big it is."
I wasn't stupid. I knew he was flirting with me. But it surprised me how much I didn't care for it. In the back of my mind, I’d worried my primitive alpha instincts would flare up at the first scent of an omega. Thankfully, that didn't happen. Maybe it was the overwhelming perfume Alaric wore, but I felt no desire to get closer to him.
This was TV, though. I had to be cordial.
I tried changing the subject. "What's your shifter animal?"
Alaric tilted his head, letting his white hair fall across his forehead. "You can't tell?"
I smiled politely. "I'm afraid to guess and get it wrong."
"You're a dragon." Alaric reached out and brushed his fingers against my arm. "I'm sure you're not afraid ofanything."
My skin tingled unpleasantly. I subtly backed off from Alaric so I wasn't in his range, then pretended like I'd finished my drink. "Ah, empty already? Let me grab another."
I felt Alaric's disappointment like a tidal wave, but I didn't let it get to me. This was a competition, after all. He couldn't win in the first five minutes just by batting his eyelashes.
At the drink table, I guzzled the rest of my cranberry soda and grabbed another. Good grief. If this happened every time I interacted with a contestant, I'd have to piss all night long.
Gaius ran around cheerfully interviewing each omega. I was supposed to be the center of attention, but he did the majority of the mingling, which I appreciated.
I just wanted to get this over with. With a sigh, I turned around to throw myself back into the fray.
I promptly bumped into somebody.
And spilled my cranberry soda over us both.
My inner dragon shrieked. My suit. I got sodaall over my precious suit.Any harm done to an item from my hoard was the worst crime imaginable. Still aware I was potentially being filmed, I did my best to quell my righteous draconic fury.
I scowled, ready to chew out the person I'd bumped into, until I saw who it was.
Taylor stood right next to me. His clean white shirt wasalsocovered in spilled soda. His scowl matched mine, deep and disappointed.
But at the sight of him, something odd happened.
My fury dissipated. My dragon soul quieted without a peep. I suddenly didn't care about my suit. Which was utterly deranged, because I cared about my suits more than anything.
"Typically people apologize when they spill things on others," Taylor remarked dryly.
That was the first thing he ever said to me.
He was right, of course. But for some reason, I lacked the capacity to speak. My inner dragon had silenced his cries, but continued to stir restlessly.
Despite my internal floundering, I managed to sound normal. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Taylor said tonelessly. "I guess I own a pink shirt now."
I glanced at him up and down. With his previously white shirt, black pants, and cleanly combed hair, Taylor was well put together. He put effort into his appearance but didn't take it over the top. And thank Drake, he didn't reek of artificial perfume. The scent that wafted from him was natural and clean. I liked it.
