She sits there, eyes closed, hands resting on the knees of her crossed legs, back straight, chin tucked toward her chest just slightly. She stands out amidst all the activity. A moment of stillness, of calm, in the chaos. Her lips are curved in the beginning of a smile, not fully there, but content. Like there’s nothing else she’d rather be doing in the world than sitting there in tranquility.
One of the bikini clad omegas shrieks and falls in the pool, likely trying to get some attention—a camera—on her. The girl sitting cross legged doesn’t so much as twitch.
The producers provided all of us with a dossier on each of the omegas and it takes me a moment to scan through all twenty of them until I land on her. Florence Karlin. Twenty-three. American. From a lower class family. Though she was top of her class at the Omega Academy of America, she didn’t match with a pack. I try to come up with anything else, but it was hard enough to commit twenty new names to my memory, let alone their pertinent details.
I wish I’d paid more attention though. To her sheet specifically.
I remember her from the introduction ceremony last night. How she smiled and called me ‘pretty boy’. The way she wiped her hand on her skirt after touching me.
Has she heard about my philandering ways? That I flirt and fuck anything in a skirt? Is that why she did that? She doesn’t want someone like me touching her? Does she think I’m not good enough for her? Oh, god. Does she havestandards? Does she think I wouldn’t be a good alpha?
Something about that thought makes my chest ache and my fingers twitch. I want to touch her. I want to do more than touch her. I want to…
I cut the thought off.
With the bold way she met all or our gazes last night, I have the feeling Florence Karlin isn’t the type of woman who would be okay with playing second fiddle to another omega. Even if, in private, she was first fiddle.
I shouldn’t even entertain the thought of approaching her, of getting close to her. It's not fair to either of us.
Piers sidles up next to me, making my skin prickle. I hate that he’s not officially a part of this, but at least that means hedoesn’t have to hide his scent like the rest of us. So I can smell him—cut grass and spring rain. It helps to soothe my alpha.
I jerk my chin at the omega, totally aware of the cameras on us right now. “What do you know about her?”
“Who? Little bird?” My head whips to him so fast I’m surprised I didn’t give myself whiplash. My beta’s cheeks go pink and he looks away from me. “I mean, Florence?”
“Yes,” I say slowly. “Florence.Though I’m curious why you’re calling her little bird.”
He shrugs and tucks his hands in his pockets. “She told me to call her Ren.”
Ren. Little bird. Adorable.
“You getting attached, baby?” I ask, even though I know I shouldn’t. But the producers and crew are on strict instructions to cut any of our interactions with Piers that don’t support the narrative that he’s nothing more than our secretary.
He casts me a look. “Wouldn’t matter if I was, would it?”
I want to argue with him, but he’s not wrong. It doesn’t matter ifanyof us like any of the omegas. It's not going to change the outcome of this show. As much as it sucks, that is even more true for Piers. “Has she spoken to any of you yet?” Piers asks, even though I’m sure he knows the answer.
I shake my head. “Not that I’m aware of.” I know she hasn’t spoken to me.
He hums. “I think she might be scared…”
“Of us?” The thought is reprehensible, so I shake it away, wanting to keep my good mood from earlier. “It's natural for her to be nervous about meeting us. We’re fucking famous after all.”
Piers’s lips tighten. “She wasn’t nervous to speak to me, Court.” I don’t want to point out that to the rest of the world he’s just our personal assistant. “And before you say it, she clocked that I’m a pack member from just the looks we exchanged last night.”
That has me stiffening. “How?” No one is supposed to know Piers is our beta. That he’s bonded to us. The queen was very specific about the consequences of that tidbit coming out.
“She said we look at each other like her best friend’s pack does.” He folds his arms over his chest and glances at me. “She wasn’t worried about speaking to me, a beta. But she hasn’t approached any of you?”
“I think Grieves talked to her last night. But he went to her.” My brow wrinkles. “You think she might have a problem with alphas? Then why the bloody hell is she here?” I try not to think too hard about why that might be, why she would be nervous to talk to alphas specifically. But my imagination is feral and my good mood from before evaporates under the weight of the images flowing through my mind.
“Calm down,” Piers orders me, sending out a waft of his beta scent. “I don’t know anything, it's just… a feeling I have. So just… be careful with her. Please.”
I shift my gaze off the omega and to my beta, considering him. “You like her?”
He hesitates for the barest of seconds. “Again, it wouldn’t matter if I do.”
That’s true enough. It doesn’t matter if we find our stars’ blessed fated mate here. We have a duty to the crown and we’ll have to follow through. Even if it tears us up inside. “If you can spread the word to the rest of the pack,” Piers trails off.
