“Unfortunately,” Bastion adds.
My eyes narrow. “How can you demand we accept an omega but say no to these women?”
Father gestures toward Bastion. “One of your pack requires a royal match, thus rendering Emery Grey ineligible.”
Bastion holds his ground. “She’s eligible thanks to the Omega Finishing School.”
Helena raises an eyebrow and smiles a little, but she says nothing. She doesn’t have to. This is the first omega Bastion’s put any attention toward and we haven’t even met her yet.
Father shakes his head and grumbles something I can’t hear. Finally, he turns for the door with frustration tensing his entire posture in a way that’d drive Mother mad. “TheCouncildecides who your match is to be, not some sleuthing on the internet. And you will accept whomever they choose today, although I do hope the omega chosen isnota commoner. Your futures and reputations rely on it.”
He leaves the four of us alone in the room to ponder his words. Real as they are, as well as the threats laced within them, he is right.
Bastion and I cannot keep rejecting omegas. Wyatt needs one to reel him in. But I just…
It’s not what I want. It’s not what I see as necessary. I don’tneedan omega to carry on the family duties and line. And Bastion—his family should stop pushinghimto find an omega just to settle for any other woman out there.
But of course that’s when my inner alpha goes to war with the rest of myself because that alpha craves an omega, and rut suppressants don’t work forever. They start wearing off in your thirties, and while we’re both still young, I can tell that Bastion’s feeling the same effects.
Duty says we need an omega. Our inner alphas agree.
But I don’t think any of the three ofusdo.
Helena moves to the coffee table housing snacks and water. She tosses Bastion a bottle of spring water as he exits the dressing room in a dark gray suit. “Get sober. Fast.” Then she turns on her heel and leaves the three of us alone.
“Helena’s chipper this morning,” Bastion notes as he opens the bottle and chugs half of it.
“Where the hell were you last night?” I asked.
Wyatt shakes his phone. “Street racing,again. After party, Bas?”
Bastion shoots him a glare. “I won, in case it matters.”
“Enough to cover previous debts, or?” I ask.
Bastion chugs the rest of his water. “How about we turn to Wyatt instead. When are you going to stop writing that blog?”
Wyatt shrugs and makes a show of hitting something on his phone screen with his free hand. “Done, actually. Just posted for today’s events. Royals Anonymous never gets as many views as on Selection Day.”
I groan and study my pack for long moments. Everhart Pack. Named in honor of Wyatt’s older brother and his online pseudonym. I love both of these guys like brothers. Which is probably why we fight like them.
Bastion’s expression relaxes. “I’m not as bad as I look, I promise. I’ll be okay by Selection time.”
Wyatt reads the room and finally puts his fucking phone away into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “The post is just a stupid piece stating what we all already know. There’s no gossip in it. My head’s focused solely on the omegas—hopefully ours.”
I let a single shallow laugh out. “Just because the Council gives us an omega doesn’t mean she’souromega.”
The rumored and ever-sought-after scent-matched, fated omegas some alpha packs claim to find.ThatI very much doubt is in the cards for our pack. But accepting an omega into our home would certainly get our families off our backs for a while.
Bastion raises an eyebrow. “Does that mean this year we’re not rejecting the selected omega?”
I shake my head. “One more year without one would be nice.”
Wyatt nods to Bastion. “Can your parents handle that?”
Conflict turns Bastion’s gaze into a hazy gyre. “Maybe, maybe not. But it’s all our decision, too.”
“Maybe we see who they select,” Wyatt suggests. “If it’s Aurelia Seymour I think she’d satisfy even Ranier’s uptight prick of a father.”
