I never have been.
I started dancing before I presented as an omega. Every chance I got, every class I could talk my mom into paying for, I danced in. Every local production ofThe NutcrackerorSwan Lakeand I was there, trying my damndest to get a part. I’d solidified working hard in my bones long before my omega came in and pushed the need to be taken care of onto me.
It's still there—will always be there—but it's not what drives me.
So I give Courtland a brittle smile, one that tells him I’m not the least bit pleased with his assessment of my abilities. “I’m well aware I’m an omega, my lord. As I have been one for the last seven years. However, most omegas, likely not the ones you encounter on a regular basis, don’t have the luxury of simplysitting around letting someone else take care of them, not until they find a pack. We have to work to support ourselves just like betas. Just like alphas. It's absurd to pretend otherwise.”
Forsythe’s eyes narrow. “You attended AOA, did you not?”
I grit my teeth because I know where he’s going with this. “On a partial scholarship, yes.” A scholarship earned with dancing. It's not lost on me that Grieves and I are similar in that respect.
“Throughout your time at the academy, you met many packs looking for an omega, did you not?”
Another nod from me, though Forsythe doesn’t realize he’s just answered what he’s going to ask next. “Indeed.”
“If you had matched with one of them, allowed them to court you, would you be working now? Would you ever have worked? Or would you be tucked up in your nest, letting your pack take care of you?”
I can tell he thinks he’s won. And to a point he has. I could have allowed one of the many packs who came to the academy to court me, bond me. And he’s right that they wouldn’t have forced me to work, or more likely wouldn’t have ‘let’me work.
I shrug. “It’s likely, Your Highness. However you said it yourself. They were looking for ‘an’ omega, not ‘their’ omega. Any one of us would do. Not me specifically. And I want more than that. I deserve more than that.”
His brows lower even further. “You're one of those omegas who believes in scent matching, aren’t you? In fated mates.”
His tone makes it clear how he feels on the subject. “You make it sound like it's a fairytale.”
“Because it is-”
“No,” I cut him off sharply, and he blinks at me in surprise. “No, it's not. It’s very likely that in the circles you run in haven’t witnessed it, that you’re all bound by duty and so fucking limited in your interactions with anyone outside of you immediatesocial circles, that you wouldn’t see it. Arranged marriages and contracts. That’s what you think of mating. But I have seen it, with my own two eyes. My best friend and her pack are scent matchedfatedmates. They exist. And the type of bond they have, the type of love they have, is worth waiting for, is worth striving for. If that means that I have to work two jobs to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly in the meantime, I’ll happily do it.”
I leave off that at that current moment, I’m not waiting for my pack so much as avoiding all alphas thanks to trauma. They don’t need to know that, and I have the feeling if I do come across my pack they’ll be the only ones I’m completely comfortable with.
“But a pack would do it for you,” Court insists. “Florence, pixie, you have to understand that it's an honor for an alpha to take care of an omega. It's just about the only thing we want to do.”
“It’s clear,” I say softly, diplomatically, “that we have different opinions on an omega’s place. You think they—we—should be kept separate and safe and hidden away, nestled in the heart of a pack, our only purpose is to be fucked and knotted and bred.” If my filthy words make their eyes darken the slightest bit, if Court licks his lips like he’s suddenly ravenous, if Forsythe leans forward just the slightest bit, I ignore it. “But there are plenty of omegas who don’t share that backward way of thinking. Hollis Grailess. Cecily Blake. Liam Cordova. To name a few.”
“Liam has a pack,” the prince growls at me.
“Yes, but he’s still working, still making movies. Thirteen hour days,” I say with a fake little gasp. “However does he manage that while being an omega? Shouldn’t he be tucked up in his nest waiting for his alphas?”
Court’s lips twitch, amusement dancing in his eyes, and thank god he’s finding the humor in this, because it's clear that Forsythe doesn’t think any of this is the least bit entertaining.
“My point is,” I continue before the prince can let his displeasure be shown. “That the right pack, the right mates, the right bond, is tailored to everyone’s needs. There are omegas who want to work, who have a passion that they deserve to be able to pursue, who want to be a partner in their relationship, an equal.. And there are the ones who I’m sure you are more interested in, that only want to be a pretty bauble on the arm of their prime.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to make assumptions about the type of omega I want, Florence."
“No?” I slide my gaze pointedly toward Isadora. “It seems that’s the type of omega that was given to casting for them to look for.”
“Some of us,” Forsythe murmurs, a low growl that shivers over my skin. “Don’t have the luxury of waiting to find our scent matched mate. Some of us have responsibilities, duties that we must fulfill. We can’t all live in a fairytale world where true love exists.”
As I am apparently doing, never mind that I’ve seen it.
He hasn’t.
He hasn’t seen the intense ‘burn the world for you love’ between Haven and her pack.
I hum, feeling unaccountably sad for this alpha, for this pack. They deserve more than to mate with someone who only sees them as a status boost. “Yes, that has been made abundantly clear, many times over. Thank god, I’m not one of them and I can findmypack. My mates.” I give them both a tight smile. “I’m sure based on this conversation alone, I’ll be heading home next. So let me just take the moment to say, Your Highness, my lord, that it’s been…” What? Not a pleasure. Not an honor, Idon’t want to give them that much credit. “It’s been interesting. Educational.”
I tip my head in acknowledgment and push to my feet, intending to leave both these alphas behind, even as Court chuckles. “Educational?”
