But which one?
The back of my neck prickles and the hair on my arms stands up, some deep-seated instinct in my hindbrain telling me I’m being… hunted. In the sights of a predator.
You have to turn around Florence. You have to.
Holding on to Piers’s reassurance that they’re good alphas, I turn slowly. The smile I use on stage is firmly on my lips. Odette pushes up next to me, shoulder brushing mine, as I look up and up and up, into the dark grey eyes of Grieves Ashbourne.
Not the alpha I would have started with if given the choice. Even if… Even if he reminds me most of Haven’s pack. A little harder than the rest of them, a little feral. A little less polished. More my level if I’m being honest.
But he’s also clearly the most violent of the pack. His history as a boxer, and his position as the head of the pack security means he must still carry those instincts. I know its ingrained on most alphas. Some are just better at hiding it.
He’s staring at me like he did during the introductions ceremony, all hard intensity. I should hate it. It should make my anxiety spike. But instead I just feel… Excited? So much so that when I speak it comes out breathy. “Grieves.”
Episode 5: Beauty and the Bruiser
“Grieves,” Florence breathes out my name, and goose bumps ripple over my skin.
I should correct her. Should gently remind her to call me by my title, as we were instructed to do anytime one of the omegas steps over the bounds of propriety. But I’m not particularly fond of my title, and I find that I am very fucking fond of hearing this omega say my name like that.
Breathless excitement. Maybe a tinge of… fear? No, not fear. Nerves. But the good kind, like butterflies in the stomach.
Anticipation.
Like a kid on Christmas morning.
I’m feeling it too, and god it's been a long time since I’ve felt that about anything.
“Sir Ashbourne,” the other omega says curtly. A reminder and a warning.
Florence glances over at her, and then back to me, mouth quirked up with self-deprecation. “Oh, sorry. I’m not used to needing to use formal titles.” She points one perfectly manicured finger at her face. “American.”
“I know.” The words come out more like a growl than a voice. Florence takes one uneasy step back. It's the smallest of movements, but I see it. And I hate myself for making her feel uncomfortable. Dammit.
I knew I should have kept my distance from her, from all of them. I’m definitely going to be the one to fuck this up. To scare them away.
Unlike the rest of my pack, I wasn’t born noble. My blood is as red as Florence’s. I only met my pack due to my talents with my fists, earning a spot at Bellmont via the boxing team.
“I’m Odette,” the omega next to us says, using that fake breathy voice that so many omegas do, and angling her body in front of the blond beauty. A move that I find I really don’t like. I don’t want anything between the two of us. Not propriety. Not this stupid show. Not clothes. And certainly not another omega.
This really doesn’t bode well for me… for us.
I grunt a reply. In the nearly ten years I’ve been a member of this pack, they haven’t managed to make me sociable, to make me good at small talk and pleasantries. But for Florence, I think I’m willing to try. Thankfully, she’s looking at me now with that same quirk to her lips that she had during the introduction ceremony, almost like we’re sharing a secret. If only I knew what the hell that was.
“I’m Florence.” She holds out her hand like I saw her do with Piers. Odette scoffs. I ignore her—and so does Florence—clasping her delicate fingers with my much larger, rougher hand.
“I remember.” Because how could I forget? The other omegas are all a blur, with the exception of the few we’ve met before, the ones the queen demanded be included in the cast. But Florence? She’s like a breath of fresh air in the stuffy monotony.
As soon as she’d set foot in that room, my alpha had sat up and paid attention. She’d looked so small and beautiful and delicate and real. I’d felt… unwieldy next to her. I still do.
“You can call me Ren, if you want.”
“You can call me-”Anything you fucking want.“Grieves. I’m not much for formality.”
The smile she gives me is… blinding. Fucking radiant. It nearly makes me stumble back a step. “Thank god,” she says, still grinning all that pretty at me. “I just know I’m gonna fuck-I mean,messthat up at some point, so it's good to have permission.’
Her eyes flick over to the crew for a quick moment, like she’s checking to make sure they heard me tell her it's okay.
The other omega pushes forward again, trying to catch my attention. I know I should give it to her. It's part of the show, part of being in this pack. It’s just not something I’ve ever mastered. I tend to become fixated on one thing at a time. For the longest time it was boxing, until I met my pack, and they became my fixation. Now it appears to have shifted to this pretty little omega who looks like a princess but swears like a sailor.
