I frown looking up to find Tristan hovering over me. “What?”
He jerks his chin at Lulu, who’s retreated behind the cameras and is glaring daggers at me. “You got the whole ‘they aren’t going to pick you’ speech, too.” A small, disgruntled sound falls from my chest, and he smirks at me, even as his hands come up in a placating gesture. “I was told it wouldn’t be me because I’m a male and they’ll need heirs. I imagine for you the reasoning was a little more… nuanced than that.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Oh, I don’t know about nuanced. It was essentially that everything about me makes me unfit to be a royal omega. You know, American, lower class, failed ballerina, unpolished, etcetera, etcetera.”
He shrugs. “None of that should matter while picking an omega.”
He’s right, none of itshouldmatter, but for this pack it does. I really wish it didn’t.
“So no chance for you either, huh?” I ask. “Is that why you gave some truly questionable answers today?”
He chuckles. “I’ve decided to embrace my role as chaos demon. Since I won’t be getting any royal dick, I’m going to create as much drama and as many waves as I can while I’m here. My new goal is to shock the queen into a heart attack.”
My laugh is loud, unexpectedly barking out of me, drawing the attention of the other omegas, most of whom sniff in disdain, probably because it's uncouth to laugh like that. I tug Tristan away from them the slightest bit, and whisper, “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. They’ll think you’re plotting murder.”
“Who says I’m not?” His grin is sharp, but his eyes are dancing with laughter. “I’ve decided to adopt you.”
My brows arch. “You have?”
“Mmm, you and Petal. You’re both so damn sweet you need a little spicy to balance it out.”
“You know, my best friend, Haven, is the sweet one in our relationship. I’m the spicy.”
He snorts. “Please, love, on the Scoville scale you’re maybe a jalapeno. I’m a ghost pepper.”
I frown. “I think I’m at least a serrano. Maybe even a habanero.”
He laughs. Throwing his head back. “Oh, sweet summer child. There is no way you’re a habanero.”
Petal sidles up next to me, lacing her arm through mine and leaning her pink head on my shoulder. “Who’s a habanero?”
“Me,” I say at the same time Tristan says, “No one.” Then he continues. “Ren is in denial that she’s only as spicy as a jalapeno.”
Petal nods, sagely. “Ah, yes. The Scoville scale. I know I’m about as spicy as a bell pepper.”
“You’re a realist.” Tristan pets her head. “Unlike this one.”
“Not a realist,” Petal says ruefully. “Self-aware.”
“What are we gonna do while they’re gone?” Tristan asks, turning his attention to the rest of the room. “It's just so boring without them. All these other omegas are just…blegh.”
I nibble on my lower lip and glance around. The remaining omegas are clumped together, chatting furiously. Most of them are throwing glances in the direction the pack went with Isadora and Odette. “If we can track down a deck of cards we can play poker,” I suggest.
“Only if it's strip poker,” Petal agrees breezily.
Tristan and I both blink at her before he laughs. “Spicy. I like it. You just graduated from bell pepper to poblano, Petal.”
Episode 15: Once Upon a Nightmare
There’s a knock on my door far too early. As in, the sun isn’t even kissing the horizonearly. None of the gorgeous pinks and yellows and lavenders of a sunrise over the ocean.
It's just dark. Too freaking dark.
I blink blearily at the female beta crewmember on the other side of the door, confusion only growing when she gives me a harried once over and then snaps her fingers at me. “Let’s go.”
“I-I- what?”
I stumble after her, out of conditioning more than anything. I’m so used to trailing after a member of the crew as they guide us from one place to another, that I don’t even stop to put on shoes.
