A slow nod. “I should.” He doesn’t go anywhere. Just stays where he is as we stare at each other. Tension ratchets higher and higher, making my chest tight, and my stupid little omega heart hopes more and more. Until it pops and I fall back into the much more comfortable emotion of anger.
“Dammit, Forsythe!” I gasp out. It’s safer to fight. To argue. “You can’t just do this. It's not fair! You can’t tell me to stay away from your pack. You can’t tell me you don’t want to see anyone’s heart break—yours included—and then you show up at my door in the middle of the night acting like you care.”
His jaw tightens. “I do care, Florence. Probably too much.Definitelytoo much.”
“Then stop pretending you don’t,” I fire back, even though if he does that, it’ll only be bad for me. I can’t handle having this man being anything but aloof with me.
The air between us goes taut.
“I don’t have the luxury,” he says mildly, which would be a relief if it didn’t hurt so much. “Everything I do is watched. Interpreted. Used. Including whatever this is.”
“Then why are you here?” I demand again. “If I’m such a liability, such a complication, why are you standing in my doorway instead of doing what you’re so good at—being distant and princely and untouchable?”
He exhales sharply through his nose. “I told you. Because you looked terrified today.”
“And?” My voice cracks despite my best effort. “So did half the omegas at one point or another. It's been made abundantly clear I’m not special.”
His eyes flash. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t minimize yourself like that,” he snaps, surging closer to me. Towering over me as his pretty honey brown eyes narrow into a glare. “Not when I couldn’t help you in the way you needed today. Not when my alpha nearly tore a door off its hinges because you were hurting.”
His alpha.Not him. I laugh, brittle. “Oh, so that’s what this is? Guilt and alpha instincts?”
“No,” he says immediately. Too quickly. A man coming undone. “It’s frustration. Pure fucking frustration.”
“Well congratulations,” I say, stepping closer despite myself, until we’re toe to toe, nose to nose. “You’re not the only one who's frustrated, Your Highness. What are you gonna do about it?”
His brow wrinkles at the question and something raw flickers in his gaze. “I can’t figure you out. You challenge me,” he says quietly, anger draining. “You question everything I’ve been taught to accept. You don’t bow the way you’re supposed to. You don’t want what you’re supposed to want.”
“Maybe because what you’re offering isn’t enough,” I shoot back.
That lands.
He stiffens, shoulders going rigid. “You have no idea what I’m offering.”
Which is a laugh because I do know. Everyone knows.
“Nothing. You’re offering me fucking nothing. Why would I bow and scrape and be pleasant to you? Why should I try to make you love me when I know it's never going to happen, Forsythe? And why do you care? Does it hurt your ego? To have an omega who doesn’t think the sun shines out of your ass? Who doesn’t want to be your princess? Jesus,” I breathe out, suddenly exhausted and weary. Today has been too much. “If you weren’t high handed and were at least a little nice, I might…”
“Might what?”
I run a hand down my face, rub my eyes that are stinging for no reason. “I might want to be your friend. I might try to be at least. But you say stupid shit about my life and my place as an omega and warn me away from your pack like I’m some kind of dangerous creature intent on destroying you.”
Silence stretches.
His breath is uneven now. His control—so careful, so practiced—is fraying at the edges.
If this were any other alpha, any other situation, I might feel pride in that. That I can make this poised and polished man lose control.
“You are dangerous,” he mutters, eventually. “So fucking dangerous,cor mea.”
I lift my chin. “Well, I feel the same about you. About all of you.” He stares at me hard. A crack forms. “Do you think it’s easy for me, for all of the omegas here, Forsythe? Your entire pack is a danger to all of our hearts. Not just mine. And you are basically the god of this entire situation. Choosing who stays and whogoes. Who has hope and whose heart gets broken. You are far more dangerous than I could ever hope to be. And what’s crazy is you don’t even seem to realize it.”
Something in him breaks. “I don’t realize it!” He practically bellows. “I don’t realize it. Do you have any fucking clue what you do to us,cor mea? To me?”
I shrug. “Nope.” I make sure to pop the ‘p’ to really drive the point home.
