Episode 5 Beauty and the Bruiser #2
Ren arches a brow as she watches the other omega retreat, before turning and plucking a pinkish red drink off a nearby tray, almost pointedly, a small smile playing around those pink glossy lips of hers.
I watch, enchanted, as she takes a sip of her drink and then wrinkles her nose at it.
“Not up to your standards?” I can’t help but ask.
Her pretty multi-colored eyes flick up to me. “Oh, no its… it tastes fine.”
“But you don’t like it,” I press. Wanting to know why. Wanting to learn everything I can about her likes and dislikes, so I can be sure to always give her what she wants.
“It’s nothing. I just prefer a drink with bubbles.” She shakes her head at herself. “Basically if it's not coffee or tea, I want it carbonated. If I could get away with only drinking seltzer instead of water, I would.”
I glance around and find one of the resort servers lingering near the wall. When they meet my eyes, I jerk my head and they stumble forward. “How-how can I help you, my lord?”
“Do you have club soda? Or a seltzer?”
She tips her head, not meeting my eyes. “Of course.”
Ren’s eyes are huge as I pluck the glass from her fingers and hand it over. “Could you add some to this please? The lady would like it bubbly.”
Jesus, the lady would like it bubbly? What the hell is that? Why am I suddenly a complete and total smarmy bastard?
The servant whisks the glass away, while Ren just keeps staring.
Then she laughs. A full on belly laugh that cuts through the room, silencing most of the conversations as all eyes turn toward us. It’s nothing like the practiced laughs of the women I’m used to spending time with.
It’s so real, so true, and it lights me up on the inside, my stomach warm and fizzy… like I just swallowed a mouthful of the best champagne.
My own mouth twitches in response until I let out a chuckle. “What’s so funny, bubbles?”
That only makes her laugh harder, bending over with the hilarity. “I don’t know,” she gasps, wiping at her cheeks. “I think I just didn’t expect that from you.” She shakes her head and then says in a lower tone, mimicking me, I realize. “The lady would like it bubbly.”
I shake my head ruefully. “I know. It was awful. I'm not sure when I turned into a prat.”
That has her laughter dying somewhat, though she’s still giggling when she looks at me. “Not a prat. Just unexpected.”
The server returns, slipping the glass back into Florence’s hand and I watch as she takes a sip and then lets out a satisfied sigh.
“Better?”
“So much better. Thank you.”
My chest swells with pride at being able to provide this tiny omega with something she likes. Of giving her something. Even if that thing is as small as a bubbly drink.
Ren grins into her glass before lowering it, her tongue darting out to catch a bit of moisture on her lip. The movement is so small, so innocuous, and yet it punches low in my gut. My alpha stretches in my chest, pleased, wanting… too much.
I shift my weight, trying to get my instincts under control. “I’m glad,” I manage, rough and low. A growl. A demand. “Anytime you need something, tell me.” The slightest bit of unintentional alpha bark laces the words, not enough for it to take hold, but enough that she feels it before it releases.
Her smile falters. It’s quick. Barely a flicker. The light in her eyes dims, her breath catches in her throat, and for a split second her entire body goes still. Not like she’s thinking.
Like she’s bracing.
She takes one tiny step back. Not even a full step, just a half-shift of her heel. A retreat so practiced it looks natural. Instinctual.
A memory, not a reaction.
Fuck.
My stomach drops. “Ren?” I keep my voice soft, quiet enough I know the nearest cameras won’t catch it. “Hey… you alright, bubbles?”
She blinks rapidly, lashes fluttering like she’s trying to shove something back into a box in her head. “I-yes. Yes, I’m fine.” She forces a smile, but her pupils are blown wide and her throat bobs with a swallow. “Just… room’s a little warm.”
Lie.
Not a malicious one.
But a lie, nonetheless.
If I could scent her, I have no doubt that it would be sharp and bitter with fear.
Fear. Here. Surrounded by people.
I take a slow step back, putting distance between us without making it look like I’m retreating. Just giving her space so she can breathe. My chest aches with how badly I want to fix whatever made her look like that.
Whatever made her scared.
My hands flex at my sides, wanting to form into fists, prepare to beat the ever loving shit out of it, but I force them to stay loose, relaxed. Telling her with my actions that I am not a threat to her.
“Thank you for the drink,” she says, quieter now. The humor is gone, replaced by a brittleness I hate. “Really.”
“Of course,” I murmur. I keep my hands at my sides, open, unthreatening. “You tell me what makes you comfortable. I’ll stick to that.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, surprised. Vulnerable. Like I’ve offered her something she hasn’t been given before and isn’t sure how to handle it.
Then she looks away sharply, exhaling like she’s steadying herself.
Before either of us can say anything else, a voice booms over the speakers.
“Alright everyone!” a producer trills, clapping her hands as the production lights brighten in warning.
Ren jerks at the noise, startled. The drink in her hand sloshing over the edge of the glass to splash on the floor and her fingers.
“That’s a wrap for the mixer! Omegas, time to head back to your cabanas. Big day tomorrow!”
A wave of chatter breaks out as people begin filing out, producers swooping in to guide them.
Florence sets her glass on the table next to us and flicks the liquid off her fingers before she gives me one last tentative smile. Nothing like the beaming ones she’s been bestowing on me until this moment.
“Goodnight, Bruiser,” she murmurs.
And then she’s gone, swallowed up by a cluster of camera operators and crew.
I watch her walk away, and give in to instinct, my fists clenching uselessly at my sides. Not because she left.
But because someone, somewhere, taught her to fear an alpha. To fear me.
And my alpha—my whole fucking being—is suddenly determined to prove to her that I am not one of them.
Even if it kills me.