Fuck, do I want to fold her in half and fill her with my cock.
A camera man moves in front of me, cutting off my view of Florence as he focuses on her. It’s enough to draw my attention to the other crew members lingering around the pool area, almost all of the men are watching her. I don’t miss the hungrylooks being cast her way as she moves fluidly through one yoga pose to another.
And that wakes up something ugly and territorial in me. Possessive.
Absolutely fucking not.
My feet are moving before I can think, drawn straight to her. Her body shifts into another pose, long lines and clean angles that make my mouth dry. This close I can see that her skin glitters in the sun, not with sweat, though there is some of that, but actual tiny flecks of gold glimmer across her skin, like she used a lotion with shimmer in it this morning.
It looks like pixie dust.
She pauses when I step up next to her, back turned toward me, front leg bent at a ninety degree angle, back leg straight, arms stretched straight out to either side of her body. “Pretty boy.”
“What’s this pose called, Ren?” I ask, my tongue feeling clumsy, heavy.
She glances over her shoulder at me. “Warrior two.” The muscles of her shoulders flex and ripple under her skin as she shifts, back arm coming down to slide along her straight leg, other arm reaching toward the sky as her back arches. “Reverse warrior.” She informs me without my asking.
I watch as she goes through what she quietly explains is a flow. From reverse warrior to a low lunge, to a plank, chaturanga to upward facing dog, then hips up to downward facing dog, step to the front of the mat, forward fold and roll up to mountain.
I watch enchanted, her low soothing voice like nothing I’ve heard before. She pauses standing with her feet planted together, palms pressed together at her sternum. I wait. She turns and gives me a considering look. Then she takes a deep breath and says, “Do you want to try?”
My brows jump. “That? What you just did?” A quick shake of my head. “I doubt I’d be any good at it.”
“Most beginners aren’t. But it's worth trying.” She steps off the mat and then rolls it up with quick efficient movements that speak of years of practice. “I teach a beginner class for omegas. I’d be happy to teach you too.”
I take one step closer to her. She eyes me warily, and I see what Piers was talking about. How she seems… skittish. Ready to bolt. Had she had this same reaction to Grieves last night? She’d seemed fine during the introduction ceremony. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice, pixie, but I’m not an omega.”
Her mouth quirks, even as her cheeks flush. “I did notice that, pretty boy. The omega part of the class is mostly so they can feel comfortable without having alphas or betas sniffing around them. It's a safe space. But beginners are all beginners, regardless of designation.”
“Do you need that safe space too?” I ask before I can think better of it.
Her expression shutters entirely and she takes a step back from me, under the guise of stowing the mat back in its rack, next to the free weights.
I hadn’t actually thought anyone but my pack would use this little workout space the show provided for us. But Florence has proven me wrong.
“Ren,” I start, wanting to apologize. It's not really any of my business. It can’t be. Not when at the end of all this we have to pick Isadora.
But she just shakes her head. “In my experience most omegas need a safe space. Unless they are exceptionally lucky.”
“And you haven’t been lucky?”
A wrinkle forms between her brows, she opens her mouth. Shuts it, and then opens it again, only to be cut off by a too loud voice courtesy of a megaphone. “All right. Time to go changefor the first challenge. Everyone meet at the beach in thirty minutes.”
Ren gives me a tight smile. “Well, duty calls.” Then she hurries away from me, bare feet quick on the hot cement as she heads down a path that leads toward the island lagoon. Must be where her cabana is. I file that away for later, just in case.
I want to follow her, want to press her for more information. I’m the least alpha of my pack, not including Piers, of course. To the point where my family was surprised when I finally presented as an alpha a few years later than most. They’d all but given up hope and accepted that I was a beta.
But something about this omega has me feeling all kinds of alpha instincts, not the least of which is to never let her out of my sight. The need to make sure she's safe and cared for thrums through my chest.
I want to fucking provide for her, which is not something I’ve ever felt. Other omegas stir my general alpha instincts to some extent. But this is beyond the pale. This is a thundering pounding need to prove that I can take care of her, can give her food and shelter and soft things to cuddle up in and pleasure.
Its fucking wild.
And more than a little disconcerting.
I hurry over to where my pack is waiting for me. Unnecessary. We can retreat to our room separately. We all know where it is, but I suppose it looks better for the camera if we all go together.
Piers lingers at the edge of my periphery keeping pace with us, but out of sight of the cameras. Guilt pinches my stomach.
