Chapter 2
RAVEN
TWO WEEKS EARLIER
“Marcella Moretti, Omega Weekly.” A woman in a sharp pencil skirt and blue blouse stands from the second row. “How does it feel to be one of the first omegas to openly participate in the Olympics?”
How does it feel? What kind of question is that?
There are way too many emotions churning through me to even begin to explain how it feels.
Terrifying being the most noteworthy, but of course I can’t say that out loud.
I keep my hands clasped on my lap to hide the shaking as I lean closer to the microphone. “Um… exhilarating.”
My coach pointedly widens her eyes at me as if to say, go on.
I swallow against the dryness in my throat. “Uh… it’s a lot of… pressure, but I’m—”
“Raven has worked hard to get here,” my coach, Ana, interrupts, leaning toward my mic.
She actually has no idea how hard I’ve worked, since she just started working with me a few months ago.
“And we’re confident she can make her country proud.
Letting omegas into the Olympics has been a long time coming, and it’s an honor for Raven to… ”
I tune Ana out as she rambles words that feel like a prepared script about this historic event.
It’s not that I’m not honored to be here.
It’s a dream come true. But before last year, this wasn’t even a possibility for me.
I trained hard to become a professional figure skater, but the goal wasn’t the Olympics.
Then Meggie Hart and other omegas like her started sharing about how they’d competed in the Olympics secretly. They campaigned for omega rights, and the International Olympic Committee heard them. Or at least, the sway of public opinion forced them to pretend they were listening.
They decided the Winter Olympics would be a test run.
Being a smaller event, with less public fanfare than the Summer Olympics, they figured it was the perfect time to trial an omega acceptance program.
With stipulations, of course. Like heat suppressants, and having pre-approved coaches who’ve been to the Olympics before. Chaperones.
Only six countries agreed to take part in the program. But none of them wanted to bring more than one omega. America recruited me.
They probably should have chosen someone a bit more sociable. When I signed on for this, I didn’t realize there would be quite so many interviews and public appearances, but apparently everyone wants to meet the first American omega to openly compete in the Olympics.
I’m making history, as Coach Ana constantly reminds me.
I don’t know when Coach stopped talking, but hands are raised all over the room again.
My attention wanders, snagging on a man standing off to the side of the platform.
He’s looking at the audience rather than me, arms crossed, a scowl turning down the corner of his lips.
Sharp cheekbones make the frown more menacing, even beneath a neatly trimmed beard.
Combined with his absolutely massive body and biceps the size of watermelons, this guy looks lethal.
Our eyes catch for just a moment, and something warms deep in my belly. I rip my attention away from him, and call on a man in the front row wearing a tweed jacket.
“I hear you’re planning—”
“What are you doing to keep from going into heat?” someone interrupts.
Everything inside me twists into a knot.
Of course someone had to bring this up. Whenever anyone says omegas shouldn’t be allowed in the Olympics this is their argument.
Omegas can’t compete because they’ll drive alphas into a rut and start a riot.
It doesn’t matter that heat suppressants have become more effective.
They’re convinced that any omega here will promptly go into heat, instigating the abnormally high percentage of alphas to go into a rut and bond them against their will.
God forbid anyone hold the alphas accountable for controlling themselves. It’s easier to blame us.
“Okay, that’s all the time we have,” my publicist cuts in, and I heave a sigh of relief.
Harriett Davis is known for her strict adherence to schedules, which is part of why Coach Ana hired her.
Every minute of my day is planned out in order to make me the best of the best and to win public opinion in my favor.
Everything is scheduled so tightly that we came straight from the airport to the press conference and haven’t even made it to the Olympic Village, yet. I’m grateful the interviews are finally over so I can rest and get settled.
Ana guides me off the platform just as the man with the scowl breaks away from the group, coming toward us. Now that he’s closer, I can see he’s wearing a shirt that says Siren Security and an official-looking badge.
“Oh, you must be Foster,” Ana says. “I thought you were supposed to meet us at the airport. What happened?”
“My flight was delayed.” The man keeps his eyes on me as he answers her. He holds out his hand, and I take it. His long, warm fingers wrap around mine in a firm grip. “Foster D’Amico. I’ll be your security detail for the next two weeks.”
“Just you?” Harriett asks.
“Yes.” He doesn’t explain further as he lets go of my hand.
“And you’re an alpha?” Exasperation laces Coach’s words as she looks Foster up and down.
There’s no scent coming off him, probably out of courtesy to his clients.
But his designation is clear. The man is too big to be anything but an alpha.
“This is unacceptable. I thought security was intended to protect her from alphas.” Ana pounds numbers on her phone, calling who-knows-who to complain.
I’m not sure what she’s so upset about. Foster seems more than capable of protecting me. In addition to having muscles for days, he’s got that alertness I’d expect from a bodyguard. His eyes never stay on one place for long, gaze scanning the room as if some predator could strike at any moment.
“Sorry about her,” Harriett says, holding open the door. The room where the press conference was held opens into a wide, curved hallway that circles the arena. I’m curious to see the ice skating rink, but I don’t bring it up. It’s late, and after the long flight, I’m sure everyone is ready for bed.
“It’s just…” Harriett looks Foster over, and a strange spike of jealousy strikes my chest. Doesn’t she have her own alpha at home? “We were expecting a whole team and assumed they’d want betas, you know?”
“No. I don’t know.” Foster crosses his arms and glares at her.
Harriett raises a brow. “Alphas are usually less in-control around an omega, you know how it is. We just want to be sure—”
“I assure you, I’m not going to lose my head over some pampered little omega.”
“Hey!” I glare at him with my hands on my hips.
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I don’t like being stereotyped because I’m an alpha.”
“I don’t like being called pampered just because I’m an omega.” He holds my gaze for a beat before dipping his head.
“Fair,” he says.
“I’ll let it slide this time. But talk about me like that again, and I’m going to slap you.
” My statement kind of surprises me. Normally, I’d be the one to boil internally when someone offends me, not threaten them.
The only people I usually talk to like that are my siblings and my best friend Sadie.
I don’t like conflict, but something about Foster makes me feel at ease.
Safe enough to show a little of myself. I mean, he’s here to protect me, after all.
One corner of his lips twitches ever so slightly. “Understood.”
“So, why is it just you?” I ask as we head down the hall. “We were expecting a whole security detail.”
Harriett lingers behind, waiting for Coach Ana to catch up now that she’s off the phone.
“They wanted to keep the security contained and limit the number of people allowed in the village. Each omega’s been assigned one security guard who will be with them at all times.”
“Wait, all times?” Ana asks, reaching us.
“Yes.”
We all wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. I’m beginning to suspect this guy is not an alpha of many words.
“So… um… does that mean you’ll be staying in my apartment with me?” I ask, trying my best to keep a squeak out of my voice.
“Yes.”
“Uh… okay.” I move forward again with Foster right behind me.
“Wait just a minute!” Ana yells after us. “You can’t stay with her! It would be scandalous.”
Foster levels her with an unamused glare. “I’m her security guard.”
“And an alpha!”
Foster stops walking. “I assure you, my reputation is on the line as much as hers.”
Harriett and Ana huff and whisper to each other. A muscle twitches in Foster’s jaw, but when I keep walking, he ignores the rest of my team to keep pace with me.
“Don’t worry about them,” I whisper. “I trust you.”
“Why?” His eyes narrow.
“Should I not?”
“Don’t turn the question back around on me, principessa.”
I shrug, unable to describe why I don’t feel concerned about him staying in the small Olympic Village apartment with me. But nothing about him sets off any alarm bells from my omega instincts. In fact, I feel oddly comfortable with him.
“Are you Italian?” I ask, changing the subject as I note what he just called me.
“I was born in the U.S., but my mother is from here. She insisted that I learn Italian.”
That probably explains why he got the job as my security. “Perfect. You can be my translator.”
“I’m your bodyguard.”
“Slash translator.” I bump elbows with him in a playful gesture that somehow feels more intimate than it should.
He looks down at the place our arms touched. “Come on, cucciola.” He takes my arm and leads me toward the front doors of the arena.
“What does that one mean?”
“Puppy, often used with children.”
“That feels like a downgrade from principessa.”
His lips twitch like he’s trying not to smile as he opens the door and guides me out into the biting cold.