Court a jerky nod.
My eyes find Piers, already pushing out of the line of the cameras, distancing himself from us yet again. Not bothering to give his answer, most likely because time and again, I’ve proven to not listen to his input. As if it doesn’t matter, but it does. Of course it does.
I am a cold, cruel bastard, just like Courtland says.
The lights in the room blink and then only some turn back on strategically lighting the space to look more intimate and cozier than it really is.
“Rolling,” someone calls out.
My heart thunders in my chest and I feel sick.I’m going to vomit,comes the harried thought. But I swallow down the swell of bile, force my expression into something soft and kind and gentle.
So I can be gentle while I rip out my omega’s heart and shatter her dreams.
Cold.
Cruel.
Bastard.
The door opens.
I swallow another wave of nausea.
Florence steps into the room, radiant in pale pink. Her neck and shoulders are exposed by the thin straps, and I see a faint bruise where Court nipped at her a little too hard. It's clear she—or someone on the makeup team—tried to cover it, but they weren’t entirely successful.
My eyes latch onto the spot, and for one moment I imagine what it would look like if she had a full necklace of our bites. Four of them ringed around her throat, proclaiming her as ours.
She gives us a shy smile that falters when none of us smile back. Her brows pull together, uncertainly. Fuck. I don’t want her nervous. I don’t want her worried or scared or having any kind of negative feelings. Not when it comes to us.
Too late.
Still, I make my mouth curl into a smile. One as genuine as I can manage in this situation. I’m rewarded when her shoulders relax and her own smile blooms brighter. “Florence.” Her name is a purr. One I can’t help because I’m just that tangled in this girl.
“Forsythe,” she breathes, then ducks her chin. “I-I mean, Your Highness.”
I should just get this over with, should rip off the plaster off quickly and efficiently, it's the kindest thing I can do for her, but this might be the last time I get to seecor mea. The last time I get to soak up her sweet warmth.
I hold out a hand to her. “Come here, Florence.”
She does without question, moving over to me, slipping her fingers into mine. I use the grip to pull her just a bit closer. Wishing I could just smell her. Catch even a whiff of her true scent.
“Sythe,” Grieves growls in warning. We’d agreed to do this first and fast.
For her sake as well as ours.
Kaleidoscope eyes shift to the rest of the pack, and the trust I see in them nearly guts me.
Fuck, this is going to hurt. Badly.
I guide her over to the two chairs set up for just this purpose, help her settle in one, and then take the other. Her smile falters when she looks back at me, her eyes latching onto the swollen flesh on my cheek. It's covered by makeup, I know the cameras won’t see it. Hell, most people wouldn’t notice, but Ren does and her eyes widen in concern, her fingers coming up like she wants to brush them against the small hurt, make it better.
I catch her hand before she can, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m okay,cor mea. Grieves and I just had a disagreement, yeah.”
The scowl she turns on my pack mate is adorable and makes me want to kiss her. “You promised,” she says to Grieves, who shifts uncomfortably under her attention, hands fisted at his sides like he’s contemplating punching me again.
“I know, bubbles. I’m sorry.”
“He deserved it, Pixie,” Court mutters, voice holding none of his usual flirty warmth.
