Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Romeo Ballet Academy, Sanctum
I sob, rocking on my knees.
How many hours has it been? Why isn’t Swan back yet?
I huddle on the thin mattress of my bed, which is pushed to the far corner of our room.
The bedroom is tiny with a barred window high up on the wall. I can just glimpse the sharp stars in the dark sky.
A dilapidated wardrobe leans against a dresser, which is littered with brushes, bottles of water, and my leotard and tights. Next to it stands a cracked sink and mirror.
Now that Swan and I are soloists, we at least have been awarded a room of our own, rather than needing to sleep together with everyone else in the main dorms.
Swan’s bed is on the opposite side from mine.
Mentors and mentees share dorms or bedrooms because their closeness is what elevates their dancing.
Mentors are also meant to control their partner.
Swan has never controlled me.
He has loved me, however, which is the one thing that’s forbidden.
Distressed, I drag the scratchy gray blanket more tightly around my shoulders. It’s the only thing that I have to make my nest. I once begged Katerina for more blankets, when the nesting instinct became painful.
She simply snapped that this was an elite dance academy and not somewhere that made accessibility adjustments . If I wanted to become an Omega dancer, then I could suck it up… or fail .
I’m not failing.
But fuck, I need the comfort of soft touch right now.
I scramble around to slip my hand underneath the mattress to my two secret treasures.
Relief washes over me, as it always does, when my hand strokes over the first one: thin, rose shaped paper notes.
I’m lucky that I had a big enough crush on Ambrose as a teenager that I carried these with me in my pocket everywhere that I went. Otherwise, when I was suddenly captured and held in this academy, I wouldn’t have these now.
I trace my finger over the notes.
Then I edge further under the mattress to drag out my second most treasured item.
It’s a large quarterback’s football jersey.
It’s from Sanctum High School: white with purple stripes and a large ‘five’ on the front, back, and across the shoulders.
I hold it to my nose, sniffing in the scent of Alpha: spicy Cognac with the undertone of toasted almonds.
I love Ambrose’s scent. I always have.
Back then, I didn’t fully understand why I was drawn to the smell. But now, with the way that I feel like I’m dying inside every moment I’m now able to smell Ambrose, craving at least the hit of this faded jersey, it’s obvious.
Ambrose is my scent match.
He’s also the son of my enemy.
The son of the Head Alpha who’s holding both Mom and me captive.
The son of the rival pack.
I watched all Ambrose’s football games at high school. He was in the same team as my cousin, Silvanus. At least that gave me the excuse to sit on the bleachers and not miss the golden god of an Alpha score the highest number of touchdowns in Sanctum High School history.
My cousin was fucking furious about that.
Silvanus held the previous record that Ambrose smashed. He’d been the star of the team, until Ambrose’s performance outshone him that season.
Ambrose and Silvanus were rivals for everything: track, grades, and trophies.
The teachers encouraged their rivalry because they always do with Alphas.
Competition is everything.
This hyper-Alphalinity bullshit is half the reason there are so many wars.
Alphas should worry less about waving their knots at each other.
I’m surprised that sports teams and politicians don’t simply pull out their cocks and decide things by how large they can inflate their knots.
One day, when I was fifteen, I was caught in a sudden downpour, while trying to find somewhere quiet on the fields to study. I rushed inside with my hair plastered to my neck and my dress dripping water.
Humiliated, I ran toward the bathroom to dry off.
Unfortunately, with the water streaming into my eyes and blurry vision, I bumped into someone’s hard chest in the corridor.
“Careful,” a deep, rumbling voice said.
Shit.
I was dreaming.
This was a nightmare.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
I’d pull my hair aside to peer up at the other student and he wouldn’t be…
Ambrose.
Ambrose’s amber eyes were concerned, as he looked down at me. His lashes were impossibly thick and long.
His golden hair tumbled in a slight wave over one eye, and his shoulders were broad and powerful in his football uniform.
Ambrose had never spoken to me. The intense looks across the corridor and the way that I was certain he glanced up at me from the football field every time that he scored didn’t count.
We’d attended the same school, but our families’ feud kept us apart.
But now, Ambrose’s first conversation with me had to be because I’d clumsily run into him, while a hot mess.
“Are you okay?” Ambrose asked, when I didn’t reply.
My throat was dry. Awkwardly, I cleared it.
I still couldn’t speak.
Suddenly, I was too aware that we weren’t alone in the corridor.
The fangirls and fanboys, elite Omegas and Betas who followed Ambrose around worshipfully in hopes that he’d claim them, were leaning against the lockers.
Watching.
When a couple of the Omega girls giggled, I flushed.
Ambrose’s expression darkened. A wave of dominant pheromones burst from him that was enough to make the most submissive of the Traditional Omega boys drop to his knees.
My eyes widened.
Fuck, this was the guy who my cousin remorselessly bullied. I could see the shadow of a bruise on Ambrose’s tanned jaw.
I was certain that Silvanus’ fist had put it there.
Was he wanting to take his revenge on me?
He was from a pack that was even more Traditional than mine was.
And look, he was wearing his dominant face that made most of the Omegas in school melt at a glance.
To my shock, however, Ambrose pulled off his jersey and slipped it over my head.
His jersey was warm and smelled of rich Cognac and toasted almonds.
It hung past my knees, covering my hands.
Instantly, I felt protected like Ambrose was hugging me.
Ambrose looked awkward, not meeting my eye. “What did you do? Jump in the pond? Look after yourself better or you’ll get sick.”
Stunned, I watched, as Ambrose prowled away down the corridor.
The other students in the corridor were equally stunned to silence.
For once, Ambrose’s gang of worshipers didn’t follow him because they were too busy gaping at me.
Afterward, when I was dry, I reluctantly folded the jersey and placed it in front of Ambrose’s locker.
I left a thank you cookie from my lunch on top.
I’ve never wanted to part with something less than that jersey. My uncle and Head Alpha, Jacob, however, would rip it to shreds, if I brought it onto the Cinders Estate.
In the first month that I was taken into the Romeo Ballet Academy, and was shaking with sleep deprivation because of my insomnia, Laurent pulled me into an empty classroom.
Laurent is Ambrose’s younger Omega brother. As the only other Omega in the pack, he’s become closer than my friend. He’s like my brother too.
Laurent has waist long blond hair, which is feathered around his face that’s as sharp as a blade.
Or as sharp as his witty mind.
He’s dangerous. I know that.
His mom, on the other hand, only sees him as the most beautiful member of the family, who she uses as a honey pot for investors. She keeps him at her side for dinner parties and events, teasing who he’ll bond with.
Beating him, if he dares to protest.
Yet he finds his own, smart ways to fight back.
When Laurent passed Ambrose’s same high school number ‘five’ jersey to me, I snatched it, burying my nose in the delicious scent.
Then I peered at Laurent in surprise. “How did you know that I needed this?”
“Amby told me about how he gave it to you.” Laurent studied me with his cool, gray eyes.
He was dressed in a gray suit with glimmering waistcoat that was embroidered with roses. It was buttoned up to his neck and restrictive.
My cheeks reddened. “You were the year below me at school. You didn’t…?”
“Hear the gossip about my idiot brother openly courting our enemy by handing you his jersey like he was the romantic lead in some trashy show like Alpha High?”
“It was sweet.”
“My brother’s not sweet.” Laurent twirled a strand of hair around his finger. “Then there’s the fact that I found him sitting on his bed and sniffing his own jersey. It had your scent on it. I’m glad that I didn’t walk in to him using it as a jerking off aid.”
I pulled the jersey against my chest, protectively. “Are you…? Please don’t take this back.”
“It’s yours.” Laurent waved a regal hand. “Amby wanted you to have it. He slept with it, until the day that he was sent away. He wasn’t allowed to pack. I’m not allowed to ship anything to him in England.” His eyes sparked with defiance. “But Mom never said anything about giving away his things.”
“Smart.”
“Not really. Do you have any idea how much trouble he got into for that stunt?”
I froze, paling.
“Do you know how much trouble you could get into for giving this to me?” I replied.
“I know precisely how much.” Laurent smoothed down his waistcoat. “I guess that I’m as much an idiot as my brother is.”
“Come here.” When I reached to hug Laurent, he flinched.
My heart ached that I knew why. I’d seen how Olivia treated both her sons.
Gently, I nuzzled against Laurent’s neck.
He purred in response, carefully raising his arms to embrace me. “Watch my hair.”
I laughed, purring harder.
Now, I clutch the jersey.
My breathing slows down, and I manage to still my tears. I rub the jersey’s sleeve over my cheeks, wiping away the wetness.
Then I lie down, dragging the blanket over my head like I can create a protective nest that way.
I bury my face in the jersey in the memory of the Alpha who isn’t truly mine.
After a moment, I wriggle the jersey over my shoulders for warmth. It’s so large on me that it falls all the way to my knees.
I forget just how much taller Ambrose is than me.
Will Ambrose decide to enact the ancient tradition of the Ballet Bonding Night?
But how could Ambrose risk selecting Swan and me, even if he does?
Carefully, I raise my fingers to my lips. They’re still tingling from my kiss with Swan.
Swan is more than family.
He’s my Beta.
Pack.
Despite the consequences and whatever danger Swan is in, I don’t regret kissing him. We’ve hidden our love behind our dancing for years. In a week, we may lose each other forever.
This is our last chance to be a couple.
We have to take it.
Yet it must be the early hours of Monday morning now. What the hell is Dimitri doing to Swan?
I whine, cuddling deeper under the blanket. The darkness swallows me. The mattress is hard. My muscles ache.
I shiver. It’s freezing tonight.
All of a sudden, the door crashes open.
I jump.
Swan…
I throw the blanket off me.
Swan staggers into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Feathers.” I scramble off the bed and across the rough floorboards to grab Swan by the elbow and steady him.
There are deep circles underneath Swan’s eyes. His sweaty hair hangs across his face, and he’s slumped in exhaustion.
He’s limping and trying to hide it.
My lips pinch.
I support Swan across the room and then up onto his bed.
He can’t hold back the groan as he lies on his back. It looks like it’s a struggle for him to keep his eyes open.
“It’s okay,” Swan rasps. “It doesn’t hurt.”
Liar.
“Would you like a massage?” I offer.
“And that’s why you’re my Queen.” Swan flops his arms out like a starfish. “I’m all yours.”
Warmth fills me.
He is — mine .
Whoever thinks that Omegas can’t be possessive has never met me.
When I grasp Swan’s hand, however, I’m shocked that his fingers are like ice. I rub his hand between mine to warm him up, before beginning to massage up his arm.
He sighs in pleasure. “Perfect, thanks. You’re amazing at this.”
I purr at his praise. What Omega doesn’t love it?
“What was the punishment?” I don’t want to know but I have to.
“Nothing much.” Swan avoids my eye. “Just stress positions and repetitions. The usual.”
The usual.
Only, I know the type of things that means.
I remember the terror of having to watch as Swan was stretched backward over the barre, forced between both Katerina and Dimitri on either side. He was stretched so far that I thought his spine was going to snap.
It was one of the few times that Swan cried, as I held him, trying to shield him from the class.
Katerina laughed, calling him weak .
Dimitri — for once — looked ashamed.
When I move onto rubbing and massaging his bare legs, however, Swan attempts to roll away.
“Hey, enough. I’m ticklish.” He snatches the edge of the blanket to pull it over himself, but not before I see what he’s trying to hide from me: the scald burns on the back of his thighs.
I hiss out a shocked breath. “Dimitri fucking burned you?”
Swan shrugs. “Didn’t you get the memo that corrections are only for our benefit? Being able to endure pain and push yourself past your limits makes you a better dancer. Wait, that could be bullshit. Anyway, the Alphahole balanced his coffee on my extended leg and told me that I’d be burned, if I broke the pose. I may be awesome but I’m not a statue.”
Rage sweeps through me. “I’m going to rip his knot off.”
Swan’s lip curls up at one side. “Now that’s something that I’d pay to see, JuJu. But I could tear off his knot and use it as an interesting new prop, if I wanted to. I don’t, however, because we have a plan to escape, and that’s the most important thing.”
I should have known.
Swan is reckless, brilliant, and impulsive.
But he’s never taken his eye off our chance to win the R & J Choosing of the Principals contest.
“Should we run the burn under water?” I bite my lip.
“Dimitri already did. He’s one of those Alphas who hurts you with one hand and then comforts you with the other.”
“You mean an abuser.” I lean closer to Swan, resting my forehead against his. I need to feel his touch and know that he’s safe with me again. “We’ll win on Christmas Eve. You won’t bond with him. Instead, we’ll become principal dancers, work out our year, and fly from here.”
“Then you’ll be mine,” Swan snarls.
He captures my lips with a savage passion.
I can taste his soul in his kiss.
Surely, no man can kiss like this Beta. He’s as much a prodigy at this, as he is at dancing.
I moan, as Swan grabs my wrists, twisting our positions, until I’m pinned underneath him.
I can feel his hard cock through his thin underwear against my thigh.
He feathers kisses lower, down my jaw and along my throat.
I whine, tipping my head back further to give him more access. I feel like I’m burning up from each press of his soft lips against my scent gland.
Swan is panting. His silver eyes are wild.
Then he looks up at me with a devilish smirk. “A beautiful Omega like you should be kissed every day. Every hour. Every fucking minute. But right now, I want to find out what comes after a kiss…”