Half her mouth quirks into a smile as she nods. “On track to be a principal. Yeah. But it wasn’t to be. I can’t dance for hours on end anymore, not without it hurting. So I dance for myself here and there and teach yoga to omegas to try to help with some of the pain.”
“Is that why you never picked a pack? Because you wanted a career instead?”
Her nose wrinkles and she shakes her head, moving to sit on the sofa, picking up an ice pack and resting it over the ruined skin. “All the packs they brought in… they wanted a stay at home omega. As soon as I mentioned I wanted to be a dancer, to have a career, they lost all interest. Or if they didn’t they tried to convince me that I was wrong for wanting that, that I should just let my alphas take care of me. I wanted both a career and a pack. If even one of them had been supportive of my dreams…” She trails off, but I understand what she means.
If they had been supportive of her dreams, she probably would have matched with them, and then she wouldn’t be here.
“That’s why your knee gave out. During the first mini game while I was holding you in the air.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, I miscalculated how much it could take after running on sand.”
A hot spike swells in my chest.Anger,I realize.At her. “That was a really fucking stupid thing to do, killer.”
She jerks back at the sudden vitriol in my voice, eyes wide with a flash of… fear? God, no. I don’t want her to fear me. I work to make myself calmer, take a deep breath and let it out and not for the first time, I wish like hell I could smell her.
By the time I’m not feeling so volatile, Florence is no longer afraid. In fact she’s glaring at me like I just kicked a kitten,her little chin lifted in defiance that I want to spank out of her. Goddamn it.
“I’m sorry,” I say, keeping my voice level. “That was uncalled for.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “It was.” There’s no talk of her forgiveness, no easy acceptance of my apology. Florence Karlin is going to make me work for it.
I fucking love it.
“It’s not an excuse for snapping, but my alpha hates the thought of you being injured for any reason, but especially for something as stupid as this television show. Especially when that’s already happened.” I reach for her folded arms, blowing out a breath when she lets me untangle them, stroking my thumb over the still healing skin on her wrist where the ropes bit into her flesh.
She shifts and sighs. “It would be my own fault. I’m too competitive for my own good. It's such a huge part of being a ballerina. Always in competition with the other dancers, always fighting for the best parts.”
I nod my understanding, my thumb still rubbing circles into her pulse point. On top of that I’ve read about how hard being a ballerina can be on the body, the way the dancers push through pain and injury to hold their spot. It seems Ren still does that years later. Something to watch out for.
“Are you injured now?” I ask, pointing at the ice pack in her hand. Hating the idea, but still needing to know.
She shakes her head. “No. I tweaked it in the blindfold obstacle course challenge, and then again during capture the flag. But it's been fine since then. This is more… preventative.”
It only takes me a moment to realize what she means. “You’re going to dance in the talent show.”
Her mouth quirks up into a smile. “It won’t be as good as when I was at my best, but I’ve been working at it, you know?Trying to get back to dancing for me because it's something I love. Even if I can’t do it professionally anymore.”
I move, hesitating to take the spot next to her, but when she shifts to give me space, I sink down. “I’m sorry that happened to you, killer.” I want to ask what kind of accident stole her dreams from her. Did it happen while she was dancing? I’m imagining twisted metal and gasoline. Breaking glass and the screech of tires.
Ren casts me a considering look. “I am too.” And there’s something in her tone that tells me there’s more than just the surface of the story she gave me. But I can also tell she’s not going to tell me about it. Why would she?
“What are you doing here?” She asks, setting the ice pack down and tucking a blanket around her legs.
My stomach cramps with nerves immediately. I’d forgotten why I was here. Why I wanted to speak to her.
“I wanted to make sure that you were okay, after this morning… and this afternoon.”
“I told you I was.”
I pin her with a look and she pins me with one right back. Unbending, my omega. “Killer.”
“Professor.” She sighs and deflates. “I mean it, Thay. It was a good reminder. So even though you could have been a bit nicer about it, you actually did me a favor. I was… I was getting attached, and we all know that’s a bad idea.”
It’s not,I want to tell her.I’m attached too.So fucking attached. I want to find a way through for us. For all of us. Where we don’t have to give up Florence to fulfill our duty. And really why should that be the case? It's true that the queen likes Isadora for us, but she hasn’t met Florence. Maybe if they can just meet-
I cut off the thought before it can fully hatch.
That might work if we’d fallen for a Bravonnian omega with blue blood, the Queen might be able to pass over Isadora for our choice. But Florence is neither Bravonnian or nobility. She is American, and the type of girl who doesn’t bow to societal pressure put on an omega to find a pack as quickly as possible. Instead she chose herself, her dreams. Her wants and needs.
