Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Violet
A s I get home, I ease the side door closed and head to the back stairs, hoping to shower before dinner.
“Violet!”
I jump at Heath’s call. I’m not sure why I’m so jumpy, why my heart’s a little wild and thready, but I guess it’s because I haven’t snuck in since…I don’t even know when.
Holding my breath, I try and put the scruffy-faced, hot stranger from my head. But my mind is buzzing like it’s holding a swarm of angry bees. Panic rises.
Calm down, Vi.
Calm.
I breathe.
He had a nice voice: a touch of velvet, a touch of smoke, a touch of gravel, and even a touch of something unexpectedly warm .
And his scent… Oak.
A girl could swoon over that. Alphas and Omegas tend to be on the natural side when it comes to their scents, and he smelled like his voice. Smoke on a cold day, yes, like oak. A deep, earthy, rich scent, the wood charred to release more of the essence, and a slightly sweet edge that makes it somehow more masculine, like something to bury my face into. A sweater by the fire on a winter’s evening. Comfort.
To smell like that must cost a fortune. More than we can afford nowadays.
I think he’s?—
“There you are, Violet. Didn’t you hear me?” Heath appears in the doorway, frowning as I kick my bag behind me, but he doesn’t comment on that. “We need to talk.”
I start to shake. “Talk?”
“The thing with mouths and sound? A form of communication? Yes.” He points to the study door. “In there, now.”
He marches ahead, leaving me no option but to follow. Inside, I close the door carefully behind me. “Yes?”
“What happened?” Heath asks, voice terse. For a moment, I think it’s because of how I’m dressed.
I wasn’t supposed to be out, and I shouldn’t be going to dance classes. They’re too expensive, and Dahlia’s so talented that she needs the money for her piano lessons. Iris disdains lessons in the fine arts—she calls it subjugation —and Mari isn’t really interested in art classes unless they center on real life and not theory, or something.
And Rue? She really hasn’t shown much of a passion for anything apart from social apps and technology. She can paint a little, play a decent tune on her violin probably well enough to secure her a chair in an orchestra. She can also sew, cook, and do all the things a nice little Omega can do. Like all of us.
But guilt swamps me as Heath continues to stare. I not only went to a class we can’t really afford, but it was in the Lower Side, and I was dressed like this.
No one saw me. Except the young, handsome man from the boathouse. But who is he going to tell?
Hopefully no one.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I went to a class in the Lower Side. A dance class. Mikel Petrov was teaching and was offering a free introductory lesson, so…I went. It was a once in a lifetime chance. No one saw me.”
“What the hell are you on about, Vi?” He shakes his head. “I was talking about the meeting with the Monarch.”
“Oh. That.”
“ That. ”
I’ve been avoiding thinking about it, of how I embarrassed myself royally during my interview, and now it all comes tumbling back.
I blink rapidly, swallowing hard to prevent myself from bursting into tears in front of my brother. I don’t even want to be part of this stupid Season. I don’t belong in the limelight.
I close my eyes.
“She asked me to tell her about me, and I…” I snap open my eyes. “I asked her about herself instead.”
“You deflected.”
“You know me, Heath. I know this is important?—”
Heath starts to pace, taking up so much room I edge back until I’m pressed against the door. He shoots me a hard look. “So you threw it? You deliberately sabotaged the interview?”
“Of course not. I would never.” I stare at him as he gouges at my heart. “Not in a million years, but Heath… I… I just didn’t know what to say. Her questions were unexpected, and I was afraid to say something wrong. I overthought it like I usually do, but I did the best I could.”
He stops pacing and wipes a hand over his face. Most likely in annoyance.
I ramble in my embarrassment. “I complemented her on the Degas sculpture, which I’m pretty sure was real. You know the one, the ballerina who?—”
“Violet.”
My name’s like a crack of a whip, and I jump. “I’m not used to all this attention. But I’m working on it. I’m trying. It’s just…I want to have the best Season for Mom, to make her proud.”
He pauses, his gaze softening as it searches my face. “Vi, you make us all proud.”
It’s not true, but I smile anyway.
Heath walks over to me and touches my shoulder. His dark eyes lock on mine as if he’s trying to look past my mask, past the lies. And out of everyone in the family, he may be the one to find the truth in me. Before Dad died, we were pretty close. And there’s a hint of the old Heath in whom I used to confide in his expression now.
“Vi…” he starts. “Maybe we’ve been expecting too much from you.”
“I want this. I do,” I blurt out. I don’t want anyone—especially him—worrying about me. He has enough going on. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll figure it out.”
I swallow. He’s so stressed. I know he could have found a girl with a rich father or fat bank account of her own. He could have mated her out of duty to us, brought her here, because Heath would never abandon us.
But I don’t want him to just settle. He’s meant for big things, I know it. And if I can take some of the burden off his shoulders, I’ll be happy. That’s why I’m glad to have a Season. I’ll make him and everyone proud. I’ll take the burden away and let their Seasons be easier.
Then they could mate for love.
He leans in, his voice low and conspiratorial. “The others can’t know—don’t even tell Mom—but our finances… They’re…” He sighs. “It’s not good, Vi. I’m trying to fix things, but…” Another sigh. “But if you don’t want this, I’ll find a way. You just need to tell me.”
“ How not good, Heath?”
“Dad…” Heath rakes fingers through his hair. “Dad had massive gambling debts.”
I can’t breathe as panic scrabbles at me. “Mom didn’t?—”
“She doesn’t know. She just thinks the finances were worse than Dad let on. We’re okay for now. I’ve cut a lot. But I don’t know how long we can stretch it. I don’t want to start tapping into trust funds to make ends meet.”
That is bad.
Oh, Dad. What did you do?
“Don’t worry,” I say, trying to inject warmth and caring into my smile. “I’m going to fix this. I’ll find myself a good Alpha, one who will help care for all of us and pave the way for our sisters.”
He sighs again, and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “This isn’t a burden you should be carrying.”
“I could say the same for you.”
He shakes his head.
“At least it’s a little less heavy if we’re carrying it together,” I insist.
His lips twitch at the corners—another flash of the fun-loving guy he once was. It quickly vanishes when he leans against the desk and crosses his arms. “Vi, I have to ask you something.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“This is just between us, okay? But I have to know.”
Christ, why’s he so stiff-sounding?
“Just ask, Heath, please.”
He clears his throat. “Have you had your first heat yet?”
All the blood in my body rushes to my extremities. And my stomach is like ice. My face and toes feel on fire. “Why?”
“Answer.”
“No.” I push it out between my teeth. “But Mom says soon.”
“Apparently, according to the social norms, that makes you more pristine for some reason. More desirable…”
This is going to go down as the most hideously embarrassing conversation ever. “Why are you asking?”
“Because, Violet, the Monarch just sent us this.” He scoops up a thick card from his desk and holds it out for me to take.
I do and see the Council’s infamous butterfly insignia first—more specifically, the symbol of the Monarch. But before I can even read the fancy script underneath, Heath speaks again, confirming my fears.
“Congratulations, Violet. You’ve been named the Luxe Omega. Sophine has picked you.”
Crap.