Chapter 9 – Shiloh
Chapter Nine
Shiloh
H ave you ever had that moment?
The one where you think ‘I’m gonna go to hell for this’? No?
Watching Zale’s come face was my damnation. I should’ve left the kitchen the second I saw him over the top of a box of pop tarts. Cheeks flushed, the tendons in his neck bulging and flexing as his breathing staccato.
His blond hair was too perfect, too neat as if it was begging for me to run my hands through it. When his swirling blue eyes opened and clashed with mine, I should have coughed or made a noise. Goddess, I should have screamed. But I didn’t.
Why didn’t I?
It was so fucked up to watch my sister giving an alpha head in our parents’ pantry. Not that I was watching Romilly, I barely even spared her a second glance or more than a momentary thought and that is what was even more fucked up. She was my sister, my twin. Yep, heaven was no longer an option. I was definitely going to hell.
My focus had been on him like I needed him to breathe. Zale Blackwood. The alpha who seemed determined to get under my skin, who appeared everywhere I looked. First, he was in my class, watching from the sidelines as I slogged my way through each lecture. Now in my parents’ home, and if he wasn’t in my parents’ home, he was outside the sex shop. It was like he was haunting me. Taunting me with what I cannot have. What I can’t even dare to let myself want.
No. I didn’t want him.
That wasn’t what I meant… was it?
If anyone found out I was an omega now, that would just make everything a million times worse.
I would rather be the slutty beta brother, then the omega who’s not good enough. The omega who no one even considered could be an omega. The omega who is a watered-down version of his sister.
No, I wanted to live my life on my terms, and to do that I had to face facts that there were some things that just weren’t meant for me. Even if they had eyes like pools of water tapped away in a desert oasis. Even if they had big broad shoulders and thick arms the size of my thigh. Or they smelled like a summer evening, when the bonfire crackles and the taste of s’mores lingers in your mouth as your teeth stick together. Or they made the sweetest sound when they came. Addictive. A soft groan that plays on repeat in my head, making me hard every time I think about how his eyes never left mine as I watched his undoing.
I might have wished, if only for a fraction of a moment, that it could’ve been me on my knees for him. That I could be the one working him over with my mouth and my hands. But it was an errant, fleeting thought. An error. A glitch in the matrix. It’s clearly been too long since I’ve been laid. Maybe once I was back at my apartment, I’d give that tentacle toy a try.
“What are you thinking so deeply about?” my father asks, as he hands me a photo album and picks up my empty glass of wine to refill it from the bottle resting on the coffee table. The alcohol also isn’t helping my hazy, horny thoughts. I chuckle as I scratch at my neck, which causes his expression to crinkle into concern.
“Is everything okay?”
I freeze, my nails pressing against the faded bite mark. “Yeah, just a bug bite on my neck. That’s all.”
The mark looked a little darker this morning. I thought it might have been my eyes playing tricks or the shitty lighting in my bedroom, but as the skin prickles, I wonder if there’s something wrong with the warped bond. Great, another thing for Zion to judge me for.
“Do you want me to take a look? What if you’ve caught something?” My mother sips her own wine before narrowing her gaze at my neck. “Malaria is spread by mosquitoes.”
“I don’t have malaria.” Snorting, I lean back in the armchair, flipping through the faded book of baby photos.
“I’m just saying…” My poor father looks panic stricken for a moment, before the corner of my mother’s mouth lifts into a wide grin.
“You’re going to give dad a heart attack.” I carefully kick off my sneakers, letting them fall onto the carpet as I hunker down in my space.
Moments later, Zale and my sister enter, saying a hasty goodbye before they both leave the room again. My parents and I share a look, but nothing is said as we wait for Rom to return.
It had almost been oddly comical, since he couldn’t look at me, despite staring at me all night and being so eager for my attention. Clearly the guilt and the sanity had returned to him at some point between his orgasm and the living room. Good.
Our moment of madness is something that needs to be squashed down. Folded and packed away until it takes up barely any space in the attic of my mind, tucked away in the corner along with the dust bunnies and small animal bones. It was a supercharged moment I will stumble across years from now, where I’ll recall how young and foolish I was to want something that wasn’t mine.
I barely notice my sister returning. She slips her red heels off before sitting down on the carpet with a smaller smile than she had earlier.
“So, you and Zale seem pretty solid,” my mother encourages as she strokes my sister’s hair.
Since we were already in the sitting room with all the family albums and a new bottle of wine, we’d clearly silently decided to carry on even after Zale’s early exit. After all, it had been a while since my parents had been back in town and we’d all been together like this.
My mother and father sit on one sofa, their legs touching, while they look over at us with indulgent smiles. Millie sprawls out onto the floor with two albums spread out before her as my mother places a glass of wine by her other side.
Growing up my parents tried to give us a homebase but they were property tycoons, both coming from families who bought properties and land across the globe. And while they had people working for them in every location, my parents believed that an excellent boss knew the value of their portfolio, and so growing up had involved a lot of travelling up until our teenage years.
When it became time to start focusing on exams, that’s when my parents decided that we would spend more time here in Oakley. It was a strategic decision, putting us near the university and into the feeder schools. Now that we were both enrolled and off living our own lives, there wasn’t much reason for them to stay. And so, much like my younger years, they carried on with their property hopping but they always returned here because that’s where we were.
Rom looks up at me, and for a moment, there’s something flickering in the shadows of her eyes. I blink and it’s gone.
Her perfect pink lips twist into a huge smile. “I think he’s going to mark me soon. Claim me as his.”
Her gushing makes my gut clench, and that’s when the guilt twists up inside me.
“That’s exciting.” My father says, but his words are quiet and cautious.
My sister is as stubborn as I am, just in a different way. If you tell Millie no, she’s the type of person who will do it out of spite. My parents know this all too well. They recognize that if they try to tell her she’s too young or to consider options other than Zale Blackwood, the heir to Blackwood Tech, it will only make her marry him quicker.
She gently touches a photo of us. It’s from when we were around four or five and helping our grandmother in her garden. We’re sitting on a concrete step, Rom in a bucket hat and her pants, while I’m wearing shorts and a pair of shades– you know the ones, with a thick funky colored plastic frame and some sort of plastic animal glued to the sides.
“We've been talking a lot more recently about what our futures might look like.” The smile she gives out parents makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. It’s a lie, and I can’t work out why.
“And are you sure that he’s talking about your futures together?” I ask, tilting my head at her as she avoids my stare. I know I’m being petty and spiteful, but the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
This is Romilly Vos we were talking about. Of course he wants a future with her. She’s everything an alpha could want. Educated. Beautiful. Popular. Wealthy. The perfect omega.
“Shiloh!” my mother chides, as my father seems unsurprised by my tone. He tops up both of our glasses again.
“It’s okay, mom,” Rom laughs. “I know you all think that I’m too young. Too rash. That I shouldn’t be settling down yet. But he’s the best.”
The best. The best what?
He certainly wasn’t the best boyfriend.
“Is he?” My father muses as he settles back down on the sofa. The album he’s been flicking through is from our teenage years, when Millie blossomed into the omega she is now and I faded. Becoming a washed-out version of…her. I hated those years.
“He’s rich, from a good family, polite, strong and handsome. He’s a prime example of an alpha.” I scoff while my parents exchange another look but that doesn’t deter my twin. She’s extolling his virtues like he’s about to become our patron saint or something. “His family has his whole future mapped out. He’s going to be someone someday. And that makes him one of the most sought-after alphas at Oakley. I’d be stupid not to want to be the one on his arm.”
Someone someday. I swallow back a growl, unsure when the noise even crept up my throat. Someone someday? That guilt tendril in my gut shrinks a little.
“But do you love him?” Bless my father for asking the question we’re all thinking while Romilly pictures her magazine worthy wedding and the glossy spread in the social pages. I’m not sure she even realized all the things she listed about him were superficial. There was nothing in her drivel about how he made her feel or how she actually felt about him.
Taking another sip of my wine, I chastise myself. Of course she only thought about the surface level things. Rom was a product of a toxic society that uses secondary genders as a way to govern behaviors. The world can be cruel. Her worth as an omega is determined by the alpha who Claims her. They place special importance on the alpha, and this reverence on omegas that acts as a chain, weighing them down and binding people like Rom to their reproductive functions. People like me. Marriage becomes a transaction. A strategic move for wealth, power and influence. My parents loved one another, which was rare. I understood that. Shouldn’t Rom want more than to just choose her partner because he checks the most boxes on the alpha list?
Didn’t she want love? Wasn’t she holding out for a Fated Mate? Omegas might make tactical alliances, but they still secretly wished for that bond. The undeniable bond that defied the universe to bring souls together. Or maybe Zale was her Fated Mate and during his next rut they would come back bonded? It was none of my business, I remind myself, even if I can’t get the memory of him coming out of my brain.
T hree weeks later and the class project is almost finished, even though it isn’t technically due until after the winter break. Zale and Zo, a quiet omega who sent an apology message about the coffee shop meetup after his heat had passed, have done their share of the work so I was happy enough to put our names on the project. I was still going to leave the others off—it wasn’t my responsibility to make sure they did their work and got their grades.
Since the little kitchen/blowjob incident, Zale has been like a ghost. Where he’d been everywhere I turned before, now it was almost like he didn’t exist at all apart from the occasional abrupt emails I received. Even in class he sat near the front and was last one in, first one out. That was just perfectly fine by me.
Zale keeping to himself made my life easier. The others gravitated towards him, meaning they sat away from me. Being out of their trajectory had definitely cut down on the name calling, the rogue foot sticking out in the hallways and the beta slurs. Even Millie was preoccupied, probably vision boarding out her perfect future life. I wonder what shade of white their picket fence would be?
Who had time to linger on some stupid jock’s come face anyway? I mean, it’s not like those filthy dreams had ramped up. Or that there was an awfully familiar breathless noise as my faceless imagined alpha pinned me to the bed and fucked me until I was practically bow-legged?
“I still think you should come home with me.” Bell says as they walk past me, sitting on the couch, to throw some more things in the big baby blue suitcase taking up all the space on our dining table. They were leaving next week to head home for the holidays, and had already started packing, so our apartment was even more chaotic than usual.
“And I think I would rather stay here.” My gaze drifts back to my book as I push my glasses up my nose with my middle finger. I’ve curled up on our sofa with a blanket to chase off the winter chill. The temperature had been steadily dropping recently, that crisp smell on the breeze making Bell swear it was going to snow soon.
There was some drama unfolding in Bell’s world that I was firmly keeping my nose out of, and heading home with them for the holidays would have the opposite effect.
“But…your birthday.” Bell wraps their arms around my neck, placing a soft kiss on my head.
Waving my hand casually, I scoff. “My parents will likely encourage me to go wherever Millie wants to celebrate.”
Birthdays were just another day for me. I never quite enjoyed them the way my twin did, and so I was more than happy to let her continue to be the center of attention. It made my life easier that way and avoided any tantrums from my sister.
My parents made us spend our birthdays together, and besides the dinners that was really the only expectation they had on us and family time. Holidays didn’t really matter, anniversaries came and went, but birthdays were a big deal for some reason.
As if her ears were burning, my phone starts ringing and I roll my eyes when I see Romilly’s name. Well, three weeks of peace was better than nothing.
There’s no greeting, or polite conversation between us, there never is as she launches straight into the point of her random phone call. “I need you to bring Zale to the cabin next weekend.”
I wrinkle my nose at Bell, whose eyes have gone wide. I know they don’t like Millie. One drunken night near a taco food truck, they’d confided that they thought she was ‘haughty’ and that they hated how I was always expected to say ‘How high?’ when she told me to jump.
She was my twin.
The older one.
The bolder one.
It was my job to follow her lead.
That’s how it had always been.
“Why can’t you take him?” I groan, rubbing my face. I wasn’t a damn taxi service. And my parent’s ski cabin wasn’t on the list of places I planned on visiting any time soon. Especially not with Zale.
She makes a huffing noise, clearly unimpressed that I’m questioning her. “Because the others have planned some stupid early birthday surprise, so I’ll be in Crest Haven with them and then we’ll all head to the cabin together. But Zale has training or something, so he can’t leave until Friday night after practice.”
Crest Haven was a party town, with all the best nightclubs and rooftop bars. It was flooded with the wealthy elite, looking for a good time. It also helped that there were plenty of places that rarely checked ID, turning a blind eye to their underage patrons in exchange for a couple of big bills.
It was also on the other side of the country, so they must be taking someone’s private plane for their little jaunt. I wonder if our parents were letting her use ours? It wouldn’t surprise me. What Rom wanted, Rom got.
But why wasn’t Zale going to Crest Haven with everyone else? Weren’t Blake and Evans also on the team? Should he want to be out with his girlfriend now that she’s turning twenty-one and finally be able to drink legally? Something was off with his excuse.
“Wow, dedicated boyfriend.” I can’t keep the judgement out of my words as I roll my eyes. I thought they were all happy in paradise, talking wedding bells and bonding bites? “Missing his girlfriend's birthday celebrations…”
“Don’t be a dick, Lo-Lo.” I can practically hear her attitude down the line and for a brief moment I wonder if we look alike when we both do that. “Look, just do it please?”
The use of my nickname isn’t going to soften me to her either, I know she’s only playing nice because she wants something. This is how Millie worked. She was this perfect omega, always getting her own way. Using her charms and soft voice was only one small part of her arsenal.
“It’s a four-hour drive.” I say, “You want me to drive eight hours total so your beefy human dildo is on hand? No thanks.”
I’d rather rip off my ears than listen to them fuck all weekend. Bell gives me a thumbs up, trying to be encouraging as they go back to packing.
Voices in the background call her, but she ignores them. “Mom and Dad will be there a few days later so I thought you could just stay until then.”
So, that’s where she wanted to spend our birthday. Skiing in the cabin. With all her bitchy omega friends. And her alpha boyfriend. Wonderful.
“With you. And your friends. And Zale.” My voice is flat now, and I hear her sigh down the line. She probably thinks I'm being difficult on purpose, but that’s only partly true. I couldn’t be in an enclosed space with Zale, I didn’t trust myself. “You’re not selling this to me, Rom.”
“And Mom and Dad,” she adds pointedly, as if I'll be disappointing them. “It’s your birthday too.”
“Exactly.” How can she not understand that I might just want to spend it at home, with some greasy takeout food while I work my way through a list of anime films? I’ll be home alone, free to eat what I want, do what I want and then fall asleep fucking myself into a coma with my tentacle. How does it get better than that?
“I’ll swap summer plans with you.”
I pause.
We have houses all over the world and each year Rom and I have to work out who’s going where for the summer since we usually try to avoid one another. We don’t explicitly say that, but it’s not a coincidence that we often end up on opposite sides of the globe.
This year, I’d really wanted to head to the Greek Isles with Bell, but Romilly got in there first. She was planning on spending the whole time with her friends, sunning herself, spending the nights jumping from party to party and devaluing our father’s yacht. If they make it back without one of them being arrested, pregnant or injured, I’d be very surprised.
“So…I can have the Crete villa?” I ask, suspiciously. Why would she give that up for one lousy long weekend in a ski cabin with a jock who wouldn’t even skip practice for her? She must be cum drunk. That’s the only explanation for it. He couldn’t taste that good…could he?
“Yes.”
“For the whole summer? Alone?” I have to ask, because I wouldn’t put it past her to say later on that she meant we’d share the villa and I didn’t want to be stuck there with Sadie of all people.
“For fuck sakes, Lo. Yes.”
Magic jizz. Only explanation. I chew my bottom lip for a moment, thinking it over. It all feels too much like a trap. Could I get through the four-hour car ride? Sitting next to him? Breathing in his scent? “No.”
I hear a small noise that makes it sound like she’s slammed something down. Maybe her hand on her dresser? After a few beats of silence, she says, “I’ll tell Mom about the suppressants.”
My whole-body freezes, my mouth dry. “You wouldn’t dare.”
I don’t know why I say it, I’m practically daring her to snitch on me. It would kill my mother, knowing that I was taking suppressants, trying to hide away from my nature. As an alpha more than happy with her lot in life, she would never understand that as a teen, I used to pray every night I would become a beta.
Bell turns slowly, eyes narrowing but I shake my head at them. I don’t need them to fight my battles.
“I would. You know I would. So, just pick Zale up after practice next Friday.” I should have known better. Romilly only played nice if she got her own way. She wouldn’t hesitate to get her hands dirty if she needed to, and beefcake dick clearly called for mud under her nails. “Kay?”
“Fine,” I grumble, ending the call before she can push me into something else I don’t want. It was always the fucking same.