Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Iris
O h, my fucking god.
I kissed him.
Xavier.
That silent, intimidating man, the one who could have wiped out that entire group of stupid drunk Alphas. Probably? Definitely.
I kissed him.
I run and raise my hand, putting it to my burning, swollen lips. I’ve never kissed a man before. Not like that. I’ve kissed a few boys as a teen, but there’s no way in hell anyone would put Xavier down as a boy.
Thing is, I wanted to keep kissing him, and then…I wanted to kiss Killian. Even if he infuriates me with his arrogance.
And that only ticks me off more. I should be repulsed by him and his flirting, yet here I am wondering what it’d be like to taste him, too.
I race through the streets, the cool kiss of spring still in the air. People bump against me, but I keep my head down and head to the Council building.
I don’t really know sign language, but the first thing I’m going to do when I get home is watch some how-to videos and teach myself. It’ll come in handy when I go back?—
Wait, what am I thinking? I can’t go back to the bar. I’m lucky no one saw me in that part of town as it is. I shouldn’t be risking my reputation like this. Especially for two Alphas who seem to be involved in some not-so-clean things. They could be criminals for all I know. Murderers.
Visiting the Black Briar would be stupid and irresponsible.
So, I press on, legs burning and my lungs feeling like I’m breathing water. I’m not the sporty one. That’d be Rue with the endless bounds of energy. I barely passed all my physical education requirements at school.
That makes me think of Emmie. The Delta, Freya, definitely isn’t her mother. When I had tried to ask her questions about the Alphas, she just blew me off and told me she wasn’t going to get in trouble; she needs the job. So she’s just an employee, not blood related or mated to any of them.
The idea of Xavier and Killian being mates themselves is almost laughable now. Even though they did seem to bicker like a couple, it was more like brothers than lovers. But Emmie calling them both Daddy and Papa makes things much more interesting.
Part of me wondered—briefly—if she’d been adopted, but Emmie’s definitely biologically one of theirs.
But whose is the big mystery. She not only shares their looks but their temperament.
The dirty blond hair could be from Killian.
But the shape of her face, the shape of her nose and eyes, is all Xavier.
She’s quick to emotion, which is Killian all the way, but curious and spontaneous, which reminds me of Xavier.
Maybe that’s the point. Maybe they don’t want to know whose she truly is.
I slow to a hard walk as I enter the Upper Side.
Crap, I’m so late to see the Monarch, and now dressed like I’m going to a concert and not meeting with the most powerful Alpha on the island. Hell, most of the world. Heath’s gonna hear about this, which means, I’m going to be getting an earful soon.
Well, if I didn’t want to be chosen as Luxe, I think I nailed it.
I hurry up to the Council building and show my ID. I haven’t checked my phone for the time, but I was late before so I’m in hell’s inner circle’s late now. Fuck.
The security man checks off my name has a face that is all dark clouds before rain. I hurry up to the floor where the Monarch is, and when I reach the long, gaudy hallway, styled in only white-and-black to go with the Season’s theme, I’m surprised to find it completely empty.
No other Omegas around. No mothers.
No one.
“You just missed the last slot,” hisses a voice.
It’s Fredrick, the Monarch’s sidekick and mate, who has the skill of turning politeness into a poison-dipped weapon.
He stands in front of the partly open doors leading into the Monarch’s lair.
I pull out my phone, and he makes another sound, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. Violet would be a puddle of nerves. Mari would have Fredrick in a puddle, melted by her smile.
Me?
I just look at the time.
Fucked doesn’t begin to describe it.
I’ve missed my appointment, something I knew, but I’ve missed the last one, too. By almost an hour.
I crane my neck over him because, through the almost shut doors, I catch a glimpse of a big shadow.
And… Is that a man’s voice?
“Go home,” Fredrick whispers harshly. “The Monarch is not meeting with anyone else for the day. You’ve missed your chance.”
I ignore him as best I can and concentrate on trying to hear. Maybe there’s something I can use to fix this. I don’t need to be Luxe. I just don’t want to harm my family. I’ll never forgive myself if I fuck up life for my younger sisters. Mari’s Season is next and?—
“…numbers ebb and flow, Sophine. But these numbers are a problem. And I for one want more severe measures.”
“By getting rid of the Season? That’d be pandemonium,” she snaps. “Just like your other plans. I’ll think of something to get the numbers up.”
The voices lower, and when I glance at Fredrick, I find him leaning toward the crack in the doors, too.
I point at him. “You’re eavesdropping.”
He turns red and straightens. “I am not.”
“Right…”
From inside the room, a door slams and nearly Fredrick leaps out of his skin.
“Jumpy much?”
He glares at me. “If you don’t go, I’ll call security and have you removed.”
I hesitate, going through my options. Violet had said the Monarch respected Omegas who were themselves, not simpering ass-kissers.
Being myself is something I can definitely do, so I side-step Fredrick and push through the doors. Fredrick yells behind me, but I rush inside, only to come to a stumbling stop in the middle of the grand room.
The Monarch is in darkest gray, like the other side of the moon, and it’s a simple long shift of a dress.
Her silvery hair is piled up, her high cheekbones and harsh glare on full display.
Although I hate everything she stands for, even I can admit she’s stunning, her presence an eclipse to all the grandeur of the room.
High ceilings, marble accents, and striking pieces of art that put most museum pieces to shame.
And now we’re staring at each other.
Fredrick rushes in behind me, breathing hard. “Riffraff, my Monarch. I’ll throw her out with the trash.”
He reaches for me, but I jerk my arm away.
“Touch me and you can say hello to singing soprano for the rest of your life.”
He blinks, surprised, but then glares. “Witch.”
“Minion.”
“Enough.” One word and we both fall silent. Sophine raises her hand to her temple. “I need a drink. And I’m already annoyed. Another annoyance won’t make a difference.”
For a moment, he dithers.
“Go, Fredrick,” she snaps. “Burbon. Go.”
After giving me one last glance, he leaves, this time making sure to close the big doors behind him. Now alone, Sophine closes the space between us, and her gaze turns to flint as she walks around me in a circle. She’s studying me like a poodle in a dog show. Scrutinizing. Inspecting. Judging.
Finally, she comes to a stop in front of me. “While I may remember The Last—maybe even attended a concert or two when I was younger—I am a bit puzzled why you decided to come to meet me in jeans and a ripped T-shirt,” she says, nodding at the T-shirt with the rebel Omega girl punk band on it.
I swallow down the retort and just say, “There was an incident with my dress and ice cream—not mine.”
“Well, you’re clearly nothing like your sister.” She shakes her head, tapping her foot in an irritated beat. “Don’t let me now having a direct connection to your family go to your head, Miss Gardener. There will be no leniency. No special treatment.”
The thought of her doing anything other than boss people around from her golden pedestal is damn near impossible. “I don’t expect there to be,” I say.
One pencil-thin eyebrow raises. “You’re the only one who didn’t show in time for her appointment.”
“I’m here now.”
“So you are. Tardy, badly dressed, fighting with my second, and with an attitude that could clear a building of pests.” Sophine stalks over to her large throne-like seat and gathers papers that are on the small table next to it. “Too bad I’ve got other things to do.”
“I’m here,” I say again, “now.”
“And I’m busy. You’re not special and you’re not entitled to my time. I’m a very busy woman.”
Fuck. Heath’s going to kill me.
Mom’s going to need hospitalization, and I just might induce early labor in Violet.
“Come on, Councilwoman—Monarch—please…” I almost invoke Stephan’s name to try and plead to her good side, but I don’t think Violet would be happy about that either. And Stephan might just move them to his Emporian mansion for good.
Lying seems stupid, so I decide to just stick to the truth.
“I was on my way here, I swear. And I had on a dress, one I had actually made myself and was pretty proud of?—”
“You made a dress?”
“I did. Sewing and styling clothes are sort of my thing. I…I wanted to show you that.”
“Are you any good?” she asks, still with an air of indifference. But it’s good if she’s asking me more questions, right?
“Oh yeah. Pretty damn good.”
Sophine clicks her tongue. “Humility is not one of your strong suits, I see. Neither is self-restraint.”
“But I’m not a liar. And there was this little girl, a little Omega,” I say, adding that fact to appeal to her good side. If one exists. “And she was lost.”
“Spare me,” she mutters under her breath.
“So I helped her find her home. Down in the Lower Side, and her poor parents were beside themselves. The little girl was so grateful that she tried to give me ice cream and spilled it on me. They let me borrow these clothes to come here since I couldn’t arrive in a ruined dress or naked.”
She gives me the once over again. Then sighs and sits. “You should work on your time management. And your swearing. But—” She crosses one leg over the other— “you have my attention now. Impress me. Why should you be my Luxe?”
I snort. “Me?”
“You,” she says. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To try and vie for my favor.”
“I’m here because I didn’t want to be rude by just not showing up. You invited me, so I came.”
Her head tilts to the side. “Oh?”
“I’m not like those other mate-hungry, obedient Omegas.”
She doesn’t say a word as Fredrick returns and crosses in front of me to set the drink down on her side table. He takes his place beside the chair.
“So you don’t want to be named Luxe this Season?” Sophine picks up her drink and takes a swallow.
“I’d rather have my eyelids nailed to my forehead.”
Fredrick gasps, nearly choking on air, but Sophine just looks amused.
Easy, Iris. That’s a little too much like yourself. Best to rein it back in.
I clear my throat and try again. “It should be given to someone who likes this stuff. The parading around and finding a mate thing. It’s just not how I’d like to spend my summer.”
She puts down her glass, barely looking at me. “And how do you want to spend your summer then? Making more clothes to spill ice cream on?”
I think of Emmie, her adorable smile, and how she calls me Icy.
“Yes, actually. That sounds like a better waste of my time.”
“So then, tell me, Miss Gardener, what would you do if I did announce you as this Season’s Luxe Omega?” she asks.
I cross my arms. “I’d say no.”
“No one says no,” the Monarch says, her piercing gaze falling onto me once again. “No one.”
“I would.”
Her eyes narrow. “And what would your family say to that? Hm? Do they approve of your defiant lifestyle?”
My body tenses. It sounds a little too much like she’s threatening me, threatening my family, and I don’t like it. “They just…want the best for me,” I settle with, which I know is true.
Well, maybe not Heath, but I don’t count him.
“Rules are made for a reason,” she chides. “Otherwise there’d be chaos.”
“I severely doubt letting people choose their own mates, regardless of their affiliation, will lead to anarchy. It’s how it is on the mainland.
Betas and Alphas, Omegas and Deltas—” Right then, I think about the way Killian licked my throat and the way Xavier kissed me, and I shiver—“or multiple mates. It shouldn’t matter. ”
As soon as it leaves my mouth, I regret it. I’ve gone too far.
Sophine’s eyes widen in horror. “That’s unheard of.”
It doesn’t mean it’s wrong.
“Couples that are not biologically matched can cause stillborns or maternal deaths. There’s a reason mates are paired the way they are. It’s dangerous to mix in any other way.” She stops there, but I hear the unspoken words hovering. Like what happened to Stephan.
Years before he mated with my sister, Stephan had lost his first love, Cecilia.
She was a Beta and died during childbirth.
It had destroyed him and caused him to do some not so good things to Violet out of fear.
The Monarch had been against the relationship from the start, and it had caused a lot of bad blood between her, her sister, and her nephew.
“Alphas and Omegas make Alphas and Omegas.” She stands to stare down at me. “The birth numbers are at a dangerous low as it is. If things continue like this…”
Fredrick clears his throat, and her head snaps to him before nodding. She was revealing too much.
Birth numbers low? Didn’t the man she had been talking to before mention something about numbers and things looking bad. Could that be what he was talking about?
Lifting her chin, she regains her regal, stone-carved facade. “Miss Gardener, tell me. Have you ever heard of the terrorist rebel group, the Nightshades?”
That takes me aback. Talk about out of left field. “Rebel group?” How have I never heard of such a thing on Sabine? “No. I haven’t.”
I know what else I’ll be looking up when I get home.
But then I realize why she’s asked me such a question. She’s wondering if I’m secretly a Shade.
She sits again, crossing her opposite leg over the other knee.
Picking up her glass, she takes another swallow, this one less dainty than the first. “Good. Because they’re enemies of the Council, and I want to think that you’re smart enough not to get involved in something like that.
For your future’s sake and your family’s. Am I right?”
Another hidden threat.
I only nod. It’s safer.
“Excellent.” She checks her watch and scowls. “And now, you’re out of time. Get out.”