Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Romeo Hall, Sanctum
I wander down the grand corridor away from the kitchen in search of Ambrose.
My bare feet slap on the cold marble. I shiver at the chill, pulling my velvet dressing gown closer around me.
Behind me, I can hear Swan still animatedly talking to his brother on the phone.
I want to give Swan some space. It must be like talking to a ghost. Lincoln is the only person who he remembers from the time before he was sent away from his pack.
Sadness chokes me that I still have to find Mom and that she may be alone on Christmas.
At the same time, those thoughts don’t dim my happiness for Swan.
I won’t forget that Vito has gifted Swan this or that Vito wanted to rescue him because he’s Lincoln’s best friend.
He’s the type of Alpha who is best friends with a Beta and cares about his family.
And that says more to me about the type of Alpha Vito is than the fact that he was born into a mafia pack.
We’re all Romeos now, no matter that once, we were each other’s enemies.
Can’t we become lovers, despite our dark pasts?
I stroll toward an open doorway, peeking inside.
Talking of enemies turned to lovers…
I cross my arms, as a smile dances on my lips.
The lounge is as large as the one on Cinders ranch, but instead of being rustic, it’s marble and gleaming gold. The couches are burgundy, and antique vases stand on columned plinths.
A vast open fire roars and spits in a fireplace, which is decorated with wreathes festooned with scarlet robins and pine cones. Satin ribbons dangle from the central chandelier.
Handmade ornaments are strung around the room in contrast to the expensive furniture: dried orange slices, bundles of cinnamon sticks, and pine cones covered in glitter.
Who took the time to make them? I bet that it’s not Ambrose.
Is he indulging Benedict? Vito?
Did he do this for Swan and me…?
The entire room is done out in gorgeous greens, burgundy, and gold.
Scented candles are burning on the coffee tables. They warm the room, making it look cozier. The foraged pine and eucalyptus branches that are hung around the antique mirrors have the same effect.
I scrunch up my nose at the spicy scent of cinnamon and cloves that wind from the scented candles.
Outside the high windows that look out over the walled garden, the wind is fiercely blowing the snow against the glass.
The glass is frosted with intricate ice patterns.
I shiver at the howl of the wind.
It feels isolated here.
Cut off.
Romeo Hall is at the very top of the mountain, surrounded by the forest. It’s above even the academy.
This entire room feels like a set in The Nutcracker .
I stare up at the focal point in the room: the gorgeous fir tree. It’s not as large as the one that we put up in the foyer every year at the ranch but it’s more expensively dressed in reds, greens, and golds. Robins hop between branches that drip with glass baubles like bubbles, gilded ribbons, strands of gold beads, and hundreds of rose shaped paper decorations that look like the notes Ambrose once gave me.
On top of the tree sits a fairy who is dressed like a ballet dancer.
She looks lonely up there.
Trapped.
In many ways, the Beta ballet dancers in the company are like the pretty ornaments on the tree. Am I like that fairy who has reached the pinnacle — the one everyone looks at and admires — but am equally as unable to climb down?
Like the fairy, I’ll only be relevant for a brief, beautiful moment, before it’s all over.
I won’t dance again. I’ll be put back in my box.
Except, isn’t that fairy more lucky than me because at least she knows that she’ll be taken back out again next Christmas?
Transfixed by the fairy, I skirt around the couch toward the tree.
Then I freeze.
Underneath the tree and almost hidden by its lower branches, Ambrose is sitting adjusting the huge pile of beribboned gifts. He’s so focused on the task that he doesn’t lift his head and notice me.
The candles are strong enough to mask our scents.
I stand still, watching him.
It startles me out of my shock, however, because Ambrose is only wearing a dressing gown over black pajamas as well. His dressing gown is an elegant rich brown silk with AR monogrammed on the pocket.
I can’t look away from Ambrose’s gorgeous ankles and bare feet for a long moment.
I’ve never seen him like this before.
In high school, I often fantasized that Ambrose would invite me into the locker room with him. Then I’d watch him change out of his football gear down to his jockstrap, which would frame his tight ass.
When I was lying in bed at night flicking the bean, I’d whisper his name that sounded like an invocation when said three times but sadly, it never summoned him between my thighs — Ambrose, Ambrose, Ambrose .
But none of that was real.
And he’s a man now.
I swallow, watching as the material tightens over Ambrose’s ass, as he leans forward further to straighten the presents.
It must feel amazing for people to wake up and find gifts laid out for them like this.
Maybe I will next year.
More than anything, I want to make something to be able to wrap like this for every member of my new pack.
Swan deserves to have a whole mountain of presents.
Excitement swells through me at the thought.
“Thank you for selecting me with a rose,” I burst out, bouncing on my toes. “As long as you protect and keep Swan and me together, I swear that we’ll be good for you. I can’t wait to be bonded to Vito as well. I’m going to love Bec with all my heart and make sure that I learn about his needs. I’ve always desired an Omega soul mate of my own. I’ve never felt right without being close to another Omega. Your brother is one of my best friends. Laurent will be delighted in his coolly unaffected way of his, when he finds out about this. I promise, Swan and I will treat your mates with respect and do everything to stand by them. I would just…it would mean the world to us, if we could still dance sometimes.”
I look at Ambrose, hopefully.
At the sound of my voice, Ambrose startles.
He sits up too quickly, catching his head on the lower branches of the tree. Pine needles rain down on his hair, and he cusses.
I laugh.
Ambrose emerges from underneath the tree with needles in his golden hair and covering his broad shoulders.
He looks like a rugged, primal Alpha King, emerging from the forest to claim me.
Actually, possibly to chase me with the way that his cold amber eyes are intently fixed on me.
I’m used to Swan’s mercurial moods, however, so I merely drop to sit next to Ambrose on the icy floor. Then I reach to brush the needles off his powerful shoulders and out of his hair.
Hell, his hair is as soft as it looks.
Can I help it, if I enjoy carding my fingers through his hair and take longer than strictly necessary?
Ambrose sits still, as if in surprise. The tips of his ears turn red.
After a couple of minutes, while I inch even closer, until our knees touch, he coughs.
“I think that you got them.” Ambrose’s voice is deep and rumbling.
I nod, drawing my hand back.
“Of course you can still dance.” Ambrose studies me. “I’d never take anyone’s talent away from them. Mom did that to me with my football. After high school, I was banned from playing. Swan and you are inspiring. When I watched you, it was like you were talking to me through your dance. Don’t doubt it again.”
Huh, he’s as commanding as ever. But also, sweet.
I hate that his mom stopped him from playing football. He was the best in the school.
It must have hurt him to give it up.
I salute him. “As you will it, sir.”
Ambrose sighs. “I see that Vito is rubbing off on you.”
Huh, Vito did call Ambrose sir .
“Amby,” I test out the name, and Ambrose gives a pleased smile, “when are you handing out these presents to Vito and Bec? Is your tradition to do it after lunch?”
Ambrose’s expression softens. “Check the labels.”
Confused, I reach for the closest one, turning over the label:
Dear Juliet, my sun,
Happy Christmas!
Love the Romeos
“It’s for me,” I squeal.
Then blush, as Ambrose’s lips twitch.
“Try the next one.” He sits back on his heels.
Somehow, even like this he manages to tower over me.
Eagerly, I drag a round gift that’s wrapped in glittering ribbon toward myself, giving it a sneaky shake.
It rattles.
Hmm, not chocolate then.
Ambrose quirks his brow.
“I’m not cheating.” I flip the label over.
Dear Swan,
Happy Christmas!
Love the Romeos
I place the present back gently on the top, before I launch myself into Ambrose’s arms. He lets out a surprised oomph , before he raises his arms to cradle me.
This close, I can smell the scent that I’ve missed for four years.
Wrapped myself in every night in the football jersey.
Craved.
Spicy Cognac with the undertone of toasted almonds.
Fuck, I love this scent.
Without meaning to, I bury my nose in Ambrose’s tanned neck and sniff deeply.
He lowers his head to my hair and takes just as deep a breath. “You’re the most delicious smelling Omega in the world. I’d never forget your scent. It’s haunted me.”
Ambrose’s voice is steady, but his heart is beating fast.
I can feel his pulse as I rest my lips gently against his throat.
“Sit back,” he commands.
Shit, if he orders Swan around like this, then he’s going to get a surprise.
I peek up at him, testing the waters. “Or what, Amby?”
He merely looks amused. “Or you won’t be able to watch what happens properly, when I flip the switch on the wall over there.”
Intrigued I sit up, hurriedly.
Ambrose’s gaze meets mine.
Suddenly, all the years between us fall away, and we could be looking at each other with heated gazes across the corridor.
There’s a darkness, however, shadowing Ambrose’s eyes, which wasn’t in them back then.
I can’t quite understand it yet.
It’s something that seems as dangerous and reckless as both Swan and Vito in their own ways. Ambrose appears to have it bottled up and controlled, however, unlike them.
Maybe he’s had to learn to hide it.
Maybe it’ll make him more self-destructive.
Ambrose reaches over to a switch that’s to the side of the tree and then flips it with the flourish of a magician unveiling his trick.
Instantly, fairy lights spring on around the tree and strung along almost every surface of the lounge like it’s truly a magical grotto.
I gasp in wonder.
Then my breath hitches, when I realize that over the mantel the lights have been hung with great care to spell out:
WELCOME HOME JULIET AND SWAN!
Joy surges through me.
Home.
Nowhere has felt like home to me, since my parents died in the hurricane.
I was the unwanted Omega on the ranch, who only survived because of the support of Nova and my cousin.
The academy was nobody’s home, only their cage.
Is my enemy’s home, truly mine now?
I twist to Ambrose, who’s watching my reaction carefully. “Did you do all this decorating for Swan and me? Just like Vito tried so hard to make us the perfect breakfast?”
Ambrose looks uncomfortable. “Do you like it? Benedict made some of the ornaments. He loves all types of celebrations because he grew up in a country where Omegas are rarely allowed to take part in them.”
“Did he make these…?” I kneel up, looking more closely at one of the paper roses, which are fluttering from the tree’s branches.
Then my heart stutters. My hands start shaking.
I read the sentence that has been been scrawled in messy handwriting with sloping letters:
Romeo, Romeo, Romeo!
The note is the same as the one that Ambrose first gave to me in high school.
Identical.
How did Ambrose remember?
Without looking at him, I grab at another note and then another.
Juliet is the sun…
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo…
A pair of star-crossed lovers…
Thus with this kiss I die…
Every note that Ambrose sent to me is written on these decorations.
“You didn’t forget,” I whisper.
You didn’t forget me , I wish that I could add but I’m frightened to.
Ambrose’s warm arms encircle me, and he pulls me onto his lap. I can feel the strength of his hard legs beneath me and his hot breath against my neck.
“I haven’t forgotten anything about you.” When Ambrose soothes me with his pheromones, I relax against him. Hell, how have I lived without my Alpha’s pheromones? Every instinct inside is screaming at me to bare my neck and accept his bite. “A day didn’t pass that I wasn’t thinking about you.”
“But you weren’t here.”
“I couldn’t be.” Ambrose twists me in his lap to face him.
He’s unexpectedly serious. He’s as unyielding as a warrior emperor before battle.
Unmovable.
I steel myself.
“Where have you been?” I demand.
“England.”
“I know that. I mean, why?”
“Mom sent me there.”
“Why did you obey her?”
“She’s my Head Alpha. A Traditional. I was eighteen. If I didn’t obey, I’d have been imprisoned in the Alpha Center.”
“But you stayed there all this—"
“I didn’t have a choice.”
I huff out a breath.
I’m wrong.
Ambrose isn’t only an emperor: he’s a marble sculpture of one.
Am I being paranoid, or is he being vague on purpose?
He’s the intense, talks in short sentences or barked orders style Alpha but even so, this is ridiculous.
I narrow my eyes. “You could have sent me a letter or called. How about not ignoring Swan? You were raised alongside him. He thinks you’re friends. He admires you…fucking loves you. He believes that you’re—”
“Fated?” Ambrose quirks his brow. “I know. He can believe any myth that he likes. Whether I love him or not is irrelevant—"
“Not to me and definitely fucking not to Swan.”
“Leaving him behind was as hard as leaving you, does that make it clearer?” Ambrose’s eyes flash. “But I was forbidden to contact anyone in America. It would have put you in danger. Protecting you has been my first priority.”
“In danger?” I stare at the Ambrose’s shuttered expression. Fear spikes through me. “Why were you sent away at the same time that I was held captive?”
“It’s complicated.” He rubs his hand over his scar like it’s irritating him. I don’t think that he knows he’s doing it. “I’m back now because Mom is away in Paris, overseeing the new ballet academy that’s opening there. She’s taken Laurent. The timing is perfect to act, while she’s not here.”
“But she’s still the Head Alpha. What happens when she comes back to America and finds out what you’ve done?”
Ambrose’s expression tightens. “We have two weeks together in Romeo Hall. Then it will be time for the annual Rose vs Slipper Ballet Contest. I want Swan and you up on the stage representing the Romeo company against the Cinders. The winner of the contest will have the prestige and reputation, as well as the rights over the Prima Ballet Theater for the rest of the year. If we win, it’ll be a huge success that may appease Mom. It’s an all or nothing battle. As long as she doesn’t come back before that, we’ll be safe.”
My eyes widen. “You were serious about still allowing us to dance.”
“Of course.”
“Then we’ll win that contest.”
“I believe you. My Omega can do anything that she sets her mind to. She can even stand up to a knothead like Silas in front of an entire football team to save me, her damsel Alpha.”
When Ambrose’s amber eyes glow, making him look more like the dangerous villain in a fairytale than the damsel, I laugh.
But it’s true. I did find the courage to do that and I would again.
“That’s because even then, I knew that you were my Alpha,” I declare. Ambrose’s reminder of my bravery in the past, makes me brave now. His mom may have kept us apart for years, but we’re together today. Ambrose selected me; we’re scent matches. This is the best fucking day of my life . “We have a lot of making up to do for lost time. Why aren’t we kissing?”
“Demanding Omega, aren’t you?” Ambrose lowers his lips, until they’re almost touching mine.
My heart races.
I grab him by the front of his silk dressing gown.
Please, please, please…
I can’t look away from the way that his mouth opens, revealing a glint of sharp canines.
But then to my horror, he pulls away.
“Come back, Alpha,” I growl.
Ambrose’s expression is cool, as he ignores me. I may as well be yanking on a statue. I can’t move him an inch.
He’s too strong.
“First, I need to be certain that you’re the right Omega.” He reaches into the pocket of his dressing gown, pulling out something that catches the light. “I need to be sure that this fits.”
He dangles a necklace between us.
My gaze slowly raises to meet his. “My glass slipper necklace.”
“Lift up your hair.”
Dazed but smiling widely, I pull my long curls out of the way.
“Don’t move. I’ve imagined doing this so many times.” Ambrose carefully does up the necklace around my neck. “It’s my first gift to you. Look at that, it fits. Cinderella, you are my princess.”
My stomach feels like it’s filled with butterflies. My eyes sting.
When I drop my curls, Ambrose adjusts the necklace. He traces over it, as it rests in the dip of my throat.
Ambrose returned Mom’s necklace. It’s the only thing that I have of hers, and now it’s hanging around my neck again.
Plus, he kept the keepsake safe all these years, which I gave him, only to return it as a bonding gift.
“Corny.” I smile, but my eyes glimmer with happy tears. I raise my hand to clutch at the necklace. “Because that would make you Prince Charming.”
Ambrose’s expression cools. “Hardly.”
Then he points above his head.
When I look up, I give a soft gasp at the sea of mistletoe that’s been fastened across the ceiling.
“Oh look, mistletoe,” Ambrose deadpans.
Then he tips me off his lap onto the mountain of presents, leaning over to cage me with a growl.
Up close, his eyes are the most beautiful color that I’ve seen like gleaming gems.
“Was the mistletoe on discount?” I pant.
“I love to take gambles.” Ambrose grabs my wrists and pins me down. “But not when it comes to you, my Juliet. And not about our first kiss.”
Our first kiss.
My chest is rising and falling rapidly. My lips are already tingling simply from his breath against my skin.
Still, that sounds like the overachiever that I knew, whether in sport or grades.
Ambrose is competitive. He was raised that way the same as Silvanus was.
I often wonder if their greatest fear is failure. And that’s such a fucking dangerous way to think.
“I’m here,” I reassure him. “I’ve always been yours. You’ve got me now.”
Ambrose snarls, before kissing me, hard and deep and passionate.
There’s no hesitation or slow exploration. He kisses me like he’s been kissing me for a lifetime.
As if I’ve already been claimed.
I moan, allowing Ambrose to dominate the kiss, at the same time that he tightens his hold around my wrists.
I struggle a little, simply to enjoy the sensation. It appears to turn him on even more (as I guessed that it would), and he deepens the kiss further, thrusting his tongue in and out, until I’m dizzy.
I’m wet, pushing up against the muscled line of his leg.
I’m drunk on Ambrose’s spicy scent and the taste of him.
Finally, he breaks the kiss to allow me to breathe, but when I burst into satisfied purring, he gives his first genuine smile.
It gentles his expression, which makes my purring become louder.
Then he lowers his head to my neck, licking my scent gland.
“I can’t wait to bond with Vito and you,” I say, dreamily. “You’re going to bond with Swan too, right? I know that there will be challenges ahead like winning this next contest against the Cinders and facing your mom, but we can face them together now.”
Unexpectedly, Ambrose stops licking my neck and lets go of my wrists. He sharply sits back on his haunches.
Ambrose’s expression is closed off. “Who said that you were bonding with Vito? Did he promise that?”
I blink, struggling up onto my elbows amongst the presents. “What kind of uber Traditional asshole are you? Don’t you allow your Second Alpha to bond with other members of the pack? You already know that I stand up to bullies. So, if you’re bullying Vito…”
“I’m not,” Ambrose grits out. “But I’m also not bonded to him.”
I pale. “What the fuck?”
“Ours is a fake matching. I was playing along to help Vito have access to the Romeo Ballet Company and so the academy.”
I scramble to my feet, shocked. “Why are you two pretending?”
Ambrose avoids my eye, brushing the final needles off himself, as if to have something to do with his hands. “I fostered Vito three months ago. He planned to go undercover to save Swan. Technically, I’m his boss, rather than his bonded.”
I wrap my arms around myself, shivering.
My heart shatters.
I thought that it was unusual that Ambrose had matched with a non-elite biker like Vito. The men are different in too many ways. But then, I’ve listened to how Vito talks about Ambrose.
He’s in love.
It’s obvious.
Fuck, does Ambrose not even realize? How could he miss what an incredible Alpha Vito is?
Suddenly, it hits me.
“So, that’s why Vito called you sir ,” I exclaim.
“So much for his undercover skills. And why else would you think he’d call me that?” Ambrose arches his golden brow.
I blush. “I thought that either you were an Alphahole who got off on making other Alphas call you that.”
“I am.”
“Or you were a dom.”
“I am.”
My blush deepens.
“Glad we cleared that up.” I point at Ambrose. “But you two like each other, right? Vito fucking idolizes you. In fact, he talks like you’re a couple who’ve been bonded for years and nothing like a…”
I hesitate to say either employee or servant.
Swan came from a pack who were treated like that, and I hate to think of Vito that way. He joined the Romeos in order to rescue Swan, even playing at being bonded, which must have hurt like a bitch.
I’ll never forget that debt.
Ambrose pushes himself to his feet, straightening his dressing gown. “When you’re living in the same house as a hyper Alpha who plays Nirvana at 1 a.m., forces me to dance with him around the kitchen while he bakes, and rides that infernal Harley of his up and down my beautiful driveway, most of what I feel for him is in my itchy palm.” He holds up his spanking hand threateningly. Then he coughs, before his lips quirk fondly. “But also, it’s impossible when living with such a charismatic and kind man not to develop some…small…feelings for him.”
Small my ass.
Ambrose is smiling just thinking of Vito, despite the Nirvana, dancing, and destruction of driveways.
But then, his smile dies. “However, as his boss, there’s unequal power dynamics involved. I shouldn’t cross that line.”
“But Vito’s mission is over,” I insist, “isn’t it? And the thing is, I’ve developed some big feelings for him. Plus, he’s my scent match.”
Ambrose paces in front of the fire. “ Two scent matches…?”
He growls, rumbling and deep enough to make the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
I battle not to drop to my knees in submission.
So, he’s even more possessive than Swan is.
“You’re not in competition with each other,” I rush to soothe him.
“But I am,” Ambrose snarls. “Vito will leave at the end of the two weeks. He’s only a temporary member. You’ll have to choose who to be with. I could lose my pack.”
“No.” Desperate, I rush across the lounge to grip Ambrose’s shoulders. “You’re not letting this family be broken up. Do you know how hard Swan and I fought to win you?”
Ambrose’s mouth opens and shuts like he has no idea what to say to that.
Whoops, I wasn’t meant to admit that we’d turned the tables and courted him .
Ambrose quirks his brow. “Go on.”
“You’re ours now, including Vito and Bec. I don’t care that you started off as fake to save us. You’ve been Swan and my fated mate, whether you believe it or not, since we were kids. And we’re both falling for the rest of your pack. And they’re falling for us. So, whatever you have to do to fight to keep this us all together, then do it.”
“Did I miss the memo, while I was in England, where Omegas now give orders to Alphas?”
I push myself onto tiptoes, simply because he’s so much taller than me. “Probably.”
Ambrose cups my cheek. “Juliet, if this was about fighting, then I would battle to the ends of the earth for you. But it’s about forcing my will on others. And I would die, before I did that. In England, Omegas are forced by Alphas throughout their entire lives because they aren’t considered to have free will. Their parents make decisions on how and where they live, what they do, and who ruts with or bonds them. I won’t… can’t …be anything like that.”
Bile rises up my throat at the thought.
Benedict was raised in England.
Is that why he flinches?
“But you’re nothing like that,” I reply.
“Wouldn’t I be, if I bonded with you because of the reprehensible Ballet Bonding Night tradition?” Ambrose looks anguished, stroking my cheek like he’s actually comforting himself. “Mom did that to my Beta dad. She plucked the best dancer to become hers, bled him out, and fucking broke him. If she catches him dancing even at home, she makes him kneel for hours, until he whimpers in pain. Dad begged me once to never use the tradition. He told me that it feels like his soul has been stolen from his body. I feel like a fucking bastard that I broke that promise. I never wanted to be like Mom.”
He balls his free hand into a fist tightly enough to slice his palm with his nails.
“Amby,” I whisper, “you’re not your mom.”
“I’m not. I only used the tradition because I couldn’t think of a more effective way to free both Swan and you. I’ve spent four years plotting how to give you a rose on that stage. I want to bond with you so fucking much but not because you were selected like a pretty doll for entertainment.”
He slides his hand into my hair, tidying it back from my face.
My throat is dry.
There’s so much that I want to say, but I can tell that Ambrose is struggling to tell me something difficult and I need to give him time.
Finally, Ambrose pulls me closer by the hair, leaning down, until our gazes meet. “My family took you captive. They locked you up, and I can never make up for that. But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, if you’ll have me. If you want to leave with Vito, after the contest in two weeks, then I’ll also understand. I just want you to be free, my Juliet. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Free to choose and make your own decisions. I won’t drag you into the dark with me.”