Episode 10 A Spell is Cast #2
The omega in front of me must see something flicker across my face, some emotion I’m not able to lock down. Her gorgeous face crumples into sadness, for me.
“Piers.” Ren lifts my hand and presses a gentle kiss to my knuckles that makes my throat go tight.
“It's okay, little bird,” I croak out. “I knew what I was signing up for.”
Another press of her soft lips. “It doesn’t make it right, dimples.”
God.
God.
This woman. This is the greatest tragedy in the world, that she came into my life—our lives—now, like this when we don’t have the ability to choose her. When I can’t scoop her into my arms and cradle her close and promise to always, always take care of her.
A warm broad palm slides onto my shoulder and a second later Court is all but draped over my back, smiling down at Ren right alongside me. She squints up at him, giving my hand a final squeeze before she releases me. I have to keep myself from reaching for her again. “Can I help you, pretty boy?”
There’s a moment where I feel him tense, feel the hurt Ren has no idea she just caused. Court hates being reduced down to his looks, to his playboy persona. And yet that’s all he presents to the world. It's what they expect to see. He can’t really fault her for calling him out on it.
And honestly, I don’t think she means it as any kind of an insult. More like she’s just stating a fact.
He knows it too, because in the next instant he smiles down at her. “I love it when you call me that. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside knowing you think I’m pretty.”
Florence hums, looking unimpressed. “As if you need the reminder of how hot you are. Maybe I should come up with something else-”
“No,” Court’s quick to cut off that thought. “No, don’t. I have the feeling anything else you come up with might be less flattering.” Ren’s brow wrinkles. And her lips part, likely to say something sweet, but Court cuts her off. “I thought I’d take you up on your offer to teach me yoga?”
“Really?” She doesn’t bother trying to hide her surprise, or any of her emotions really, which is refreshing when we’re constantly surrounded by people curating their feelings, hiding things away behind a polite veneer.
He nods, hair brushing against my temple, making goose bumps and my cock stir. “Yep. I have to warn you that I’m probably not going to be very good.”
Ren laughs, soft and sweet. “How refreshing to hear you admit that.” Her kaleidoscope eyes find mine. “You wanna join us?”
I want to say yes. Every second I can spend with Florence I want to grab onto. But I glance over to where Forsythe is watching us, his face set into a disapproving frown. When he glances at the production crew pointedly, I sigh.
Of course I can’t say yes. If I do, they won’t be able to use any of the footage of Ren’s first real interaction with one of my pack members.
Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, some small niggling part of me whispers.
It feels wrong to have cameras catching our conversations with Ren, to have eyes on us while we get to know her.
Something deep inside me screams that this should be private, cherished, that Florence deserves more than to be paraded around for the pleasure of the cameras and the viewers at home.
I give her a soft smile. “I can’t.”
All humor fades from her eyes and she scowls at the crew. Court reaches out and strokes a finger over her brow, smoothing the wrinkle there before I can. “He’ll be okay, Pixie.”
An exasperated look crosses her face as she rolls her eyes. “Of course he’ll be okay. That’s not the issue. The problem is that he shouldn’t have to-” She cuts herself off abruptly, hands fisted. Her eyes squeeze closed as a big breath makes her chest rise and then fall when she lets it out.
“Fuck,” Court mumbles against the side of my head. “She’s so fucking cute. Getting all worked up on your behalf.”
I swallow thickly. Cute isn’t the word I’d use. Though Florence is without a doubt ‘cute’. What it is to me is endearing. Sweet. A welcome relief that someone cares how I feel about this entire fucked up situation.
The problem is that it shouldn’t only be her that’s willing to rail about the injustice. My pack should be doing that too. Sure, we’d cuddled this morning and Thayer had made love to me and whispered in my ear how much he needed me. But that was behind closed doors.
They always love me behind closed doors.
I thought I was okay with it.
That as long as I got to have them it didn’t matter what the public thought of our relationship.
Everyone around me normalized it. Those who know I’m bonded to the royal pack don’t treat me like I am. Those that don’t… Well, they treat me like the personal assistant everyone thinks I am. An employee to be shuffled aside or utilized as a tool.
Now here’s Florence Karlin offended on my behalf. Making it clear she feels the way I’m treated is a travesty. And I’m realizing… maybe I’m not as okay with this as I thought.
The realization scares the shit out of me.
I push to my feet, Court falling off my back and Florence jerking her eyes open to blink up at me. “Piers,” she protests, bolting to her feet with a wince and reaching for me.
I step out of reach of her hands, and she fists them again, face falling at the rejection of her touch. It's the last thing I want to do. Fuck. I want her hands all over me, but this omega… She makes me feel things I shouldn’t. Not three days after meeting her. Not three weeks or three months.
I love my pack.
I do.
But Ren? After only three days in her presence, she’s managed to make me doubt that they love me the way I need.
And I can’t allow that.
I give her a tight smile. “It’s fine, Florence. I’m fine. I just have things I need to do.”
I get a flash of her wrinkled brow, of her lips parting on an apology, but I don’t stick around to hear her out. I can’t. Not when my heart is thundering and my thoughts are swirling. A deep pit has opened in my guts and I feel sick.
I don’t look back.
If I do, I won’t leave.
The sounds of the resort swallow me quickly—waves, laughter, the hum of crew members doing their jobs—but none of it quite reaches me. It’s like I’m moving underwater, everything muted and heavy, my thoughts looping in ugly, unhelpful circles.
I make it a few steps away before I hear Courtland speak.
“Hey,” he says gently. Not teasing. Not flirty, but unusually steady. “Come here, pixie.”
There’s a pause. I can picture it without looking—the way Florence hesitates, torn between following me and staying put. I hate that I put her in that position. Hate that I made her feel like she did something wrong when all she did was care.
Court continues, quieter. Reassuring. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He just needs a minute, yeah?”
Another pause. Then a soft humming sound—her agreeing, even if she doesn’t fully believe it.
“He’ll come back,” Court adds, certain in a way I’m not sure I feel. “Piers always does.”
That one lands low and deep.
Because it’s true, I always come back.
Just not always whole.
I keep walking, jaw tight, lungs burning, until the knot in my chest dulls enough that I can breathe again. Until the sharp edge of the realization eases into something I can carry.
Behind me, I know Court will pull Florence into his side. He’ll distract her. Make her laugh. He’s good at that. Better than I am.
I disappear down the path, putting distance between myself and the sound of her voice, telling myself—again—that this is fine.
That I’m fine.
That loving my pack quietly—in the shadows, behind closed doors—is enough.
Even if for the first time in a long while…
I’m not sure I believe it.