One of the male reporters, with thick-framed glasses, steps up despite Zane’s warning. “Did your brother Ranier set such a stain on the family by packing up with a commoner omega that you are now allowed to do whatever you want?”
Zane seethes and steps toward him.
Helena flashes him a look—adon’t-even-think-about-itwarning—and he backs off.
She steps out from behind the counter, tucks a stray hair behind her ear, and plants her feet. The press circles her like gulls. It’s impossible not to stare. Her jaw is set, her eyes bluer than the Channel on a clear morning.
When she speaks, the entire bakery falls silent.
“I know you all have questions, although I don’t entirely understand what entitles you to be asking them besides your own lack of creative,substantivestories for your outlets, so let’s make this quick.”
Well, damn that was hot.
“Yes, I’m Helena Starling,” she continues. “And yes, I’ve been in Seamuse Village for the summer. No, I don’t intend on participating in Omega Selection Dayorleaving Seamuse Village anytime soon. I’ve made other commitments, and I’m happy with them. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.” She gestures toward the door. “Now that you have your soundbites, please kindly leave. I won’t ask a third time.”
Helena gestures to me. I move toward the bakery’s phone and ready to call the police if the press doesn’t exit as she ordered.
A beat of confusion passes and then a dozen hands shoot up, and the shouting resumes.
“What about the monarchy and tradition? Aren’t you betraying your legacy?”
“Who are the lucky alphas? Names, please!”
“Are you pregnant? Is that why?”
Helena’s cheeks flush, but she stands her ground. “I appreciate your interest, but my life is not a public commodity. There are plenty of more interesting stories in this town. May I suggest the lifeguard who singlehandedly rescued an entire fishing boat’s worth of people last week, or the baker who just won an award for his saffron buns?”
The crowd laughs a little uncertainly. My ears burn, but I can’t help grinning.
Someone in the back shouts, “Are you denouncing the noble tradition, then? Is this a protest?”
Helena looks straight at the reporter. “It’s not about protest. It’s about choice. For centuries, omegas have been told whom to love, where to live, and what to do with their own bodies and hearts. I won’t pretend that I’m special or above it. Royal and noble families have legacies that are important. I just think maybe it’s time someone said, ‘No, thank you.’ If I want to bond with a lifeguard, or a baker, or a security chief”—she flashes a pointed look at Zane—“that’s my decision, and I intend to own it rather than sitting for Omega Selection Day.”
The bakery is so quiet, I hear a kitchen timer go off somewhere in the back.
A man in a puffer vest asks, “So, just to confirm, you’re officially bonded to a pack prior to Omega Selection Day?” His voice is giddy, like he’s breaking a sports scandal.
Helena’s gaze softens. She glances at each of us in turn, and there’s a warmth there I can’t put words to. “I’m bonded to the people who treat me like I’m more than a headline. That’s all anyone should want.”
A murmur runs through the press group. There’s a beat where I think it’s over, but then a woman shoves her way forward and thrusts a microphone nearly into Helena’s mouth. “Helena, if you could send a message to all the other omegas out there, what would you say?”
Helena doesn’t hesitate. “I’d say find your own path, even if it scares you. No,especiallyif it scares you.” Then she turns on her heel and looks directly at me. “Cole? Do we have any of the cinnamon bites left, or did you eat them all again?”
Laughter bubbles up from the customers and even some of the reporters. The spell is broken. Zane steps forward and, with a little nod from Helena, starts politely but firmly shepherding the press out the door. Lucas leans against the counter, arms crossed and grinning. I hurry back to the kitchen, heart thumping like a dropped rolling pin.
The bakery is back to its regular din by the time the last camera is gone. Helena disappears into the staff room for a minute, and when she comes out, her hair is a little messier and her cheeks are brighter than before.
She heads straight for me. “Sorry about the scene. They just never give up.”
I shake my head. “You were brilliant. Like, gladiator-level brilliant.”
She smiles, then lowers her voice. “You know, you can just say you’re proud of me.”
I pretend to think it over. “I am, but don’t let it go to your head.”
She laughs and leans into me. I hook a finger under her chin and guide her mouth to mine. Lucas and Zane join us in back.This is far too public a venue for what I think we’d all really like to be doing after that, so instead we settle for taking turns kissing our omega.
All while thinking of the future ahead.
