Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
Violet
I stare down at the dress hugging my body. It used to be Mom’s, but the cut…
Sharp nails gouge my stomach and throat from the inside as I swallow. “I can’t wear this.”
Rue sits on my bed, dressed in a rose-red gown and taking selfies like a teenage femme fatale.
“I give good face,” Rue mutters, posing again.
Mom wrings her hands. “The dresses aren’t new, but I thought for the first ball?—”
“You have to make a splash,” Rue says, weary like an ancient soul, “everyone knows that.”
“Maybe you should go downstairs, Rue.” I plead with my eyes. Luckily, a commotion erupts outside the room.
“Just me, Mom, and Violet at the ball, Mari,” Heath’s voice thunders. “No one else. I need you and Dahlia to watch Rue.”
Rue jumps up. “What? No! I need to go! I need all my potential mates to sniff me!”
Mom gasps. “Rue! You’re too young for that.”
But Rue’s already out the door, trailing silk and lace. “We’ll see about that!”
Mom picks up a dress from the ones laid out, and my heart slams hard and the guilt rises high.
“That girl, I don’t know what to do with her.” She doesn’t look at me as she hangs one of the other gowns on a padded hanger, then zips the protective bag up. She may be able to go about the necessary steps of the day, but she’s a shadow of the woman she once was when Dad was alive. It was as if his death stole a piece of her soul. “I wish they were all like you, Violet. So agreeable. So accommodating.”
I swallow hard, heat rising. “They’re just young, Mom. They’ll grow, and learn.”
“You’ve always been so mature for your age. I never had to worry about you.” She places her hand on my cheek and looks at me with her graying blue eyes. “I hope this Season you’ll find a mate to give you the love you deserve.”
“Mom…”
I can see the tears swimming in her eyes, but she blinks quickly and turns around. “But first—first, we’ll go to the store. Get you something prettier than my hand-me-downs?—”
“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll wear this one. I love the idea of wearing something from your Season. It’s just that this dress is…daring. I’m not sure I can pull it off. ”
Mom suddenly laughs. “It’s what I wore when Henry and I announced our mate bond. It’s perfect, trust me.”
I just wish the bodice wasn’t so fitted and the décolletage didn’t dip quite so low.
“It’s perfect, Violet, because of this.” She opens a smallish box and pulls out a half mask. It’s the same burnished bronze like the satin and velvet of the dress. She slips it into place. After she pins my hair in a loose knot, I look in the mirror.
A vixen who understands the world stares back. An Omega who knows what she wants. Cat-like, sly, like I know how to wrap men around my finger. I look like?—
A fraud.
But the longer I look, I can see it: some makeup, heels, and I’ll both blend in and be on show. Hiding under the cover of the mask. I don’t even have to do a thing. The outfit with the mask does it for me.
I know the fashion for this year calls for short dresses with puffed skirts, or something asymmetrical, either at the shoulder or the hem. But everyone wears those. Of course, there are more traditional cuts, but they all have that same hemline, the same sleeves.
This dress, though… Bare shoulders, bare arms, long and touching the ground all around, clinging. When I walk, the skirt’s clever pleats at the left hip allow me to move with ease. It also has a hidden slit in the pleats that ends just above the knee.
And with the mask…
“Here’s a little bag you can put the mini tablet in,” Mom says. “Every participant in the Season will have one so that Alphas can book a dance, ask for a date, or take you for a walk. It’s so exciting, don’t you think?”
All I can do is offer her a smile.
As the ruckus downstairs grows, she glances at the door. “I’d better see what’s going on.” She hesitates. “Are you sure about the dress?—”
“Yes, trust me. I love the dress. It’s perfect.”
My words bring relief and joy to Mom’s face.
“I’ll be right back.” She hurries downstairs, and when I’m alone, I give in to the shaking. Still staring at my reflection, I slide the mask off carefully until my worn and uneasy expression stares back at me, the one I hide from everyone.
This is going to be harder than I thought.
Taking a deep breath, I try to relax, but my mind drifts back to the man in the boathouse, the one with the warm smile and oak-y scent. I don’t know why I’m thinking of someone I won’t see again.
What I need to do is concentrate on the damn ball and getting through it without losing my sanity.
“You can do this, Violet,” my reflection says. “I have confidence in you.”
I’m glad someone in this room does.
The entire ballroom is a whirlwind, the amount of scent blockers painting the air with a strange void-like nothingness that feels stiff and unnatural. It presses down on me, along with the weight of tonight’s lofty expectations, and I feel so exposed.
“Breathe, Vi.” Iris presses a drink into my hand, and I look down.
“Is that wine?”
“You’re twenty-one,” she says. “You’re allowed to get wasted.”
Iris wears a super cool blue tartan dress she made out of an old one, and she has her combat boots on.
“I don’t want to get wasted.” I try to hand the drink away, but she shoves it back.
“Have a few sips for courage, and remember, you’re the hottest girl here.”
I take a sip to shut her up, just as Trixi Belle sings over the sound system. The tune’s catchy, boppy without being too much. There’s a band setting up on a dais for later, but this earlier hour is meant to be a mix and meet part of the evening.
I swallow down the wine. I don’t like the taste; it’s dry on the tongue, but there’s a hint of oak and that makes me think of the boathouse Alpha again.
And now it’s like my feverish mind’s conjured his ghost because I swear I can smell him. Through all the blockers, even.
Another drink is pressed into my hand, the empty glass replaced. I drink that one, too.
“Thanks, Dahlia. I don’t want to leave her,” Iris says. I don’t even remember Dahlia coming over. “Is Mari keeping Heath distracted?”
“Yes, and Rue’s with Mom…for now,” Dahlia says.
Iris cranes her neck to get a look at them across the room. “Just…keep the drinks coming. Vi’s going to need it.”
The conversations from other guests filter in from a distance, and I try to stop drowning in panic. I look at the peaked ceiling, all cast in marble and draped in gold silk. The lights above us flicker, and it makes me wonder if the Monarch had her chandeliers set with real candles or if they’re using some kind of artificial ones to bask the ballroom in a warm, romantic glow.
“Violet?” Iris hisses my name. “Vi, listen. Dahlia’s getting you something stronger to drink. But just sip that. Don’t guzzle it.”
When did she learn so much about drinking?
“And where’s your Season’s mini tablet?” She grabs my small bag and pulls it out. “No one’s reserved a dance. You need to look welcoming yet mysterious.”
“Here.” Dahlia’s back.
I take one small sip from the fresh glass and make myself focus on the taste, the slide of the fiery liquid down my throat.
Iris says something about trying to mingle, before taking Dahlia by the arm and leading her away. They melt into the crowd.
I’m alone.
The nerves make me shake, but I force myself to get it together. I breathe, stepping back, then back until I’m concealed by a shadow, near a massive potted plant.
I almost scream as fingers touch me, feather soft, against my arm. And then I smell the earthy, slightly sweet richness of oak, and my stomach doesn’t settle, exactly, but the wildness there turns from wanting to throw up to something else.
The scent’s subtle, so subtle. Almost not there, and I wonder how I can smell it at all when wearing blockers is always a requirement for the Season’s events. Either way, it makes me want to turn to find solace in the woodsy aroma.
“Violets.”
I spin. “Excuse me?”
He’s tall, broad, with dark brown hair, and the scruff of his short beard should be wrong with his wolf mask, but it isn’t. It gives him a devilish, creature of the wild look.
His eyes through the mask are…hungry.
It’s him.
“Do you know you smell faintly of a flower? I’ve been trying to put my finger on which one, and I finally figured it out,” he says in that voice with a hint of smoke. “Violets.”
I gulp in a breath. It isn’t enough.
“I-I shouldn’t smell like anything. My blocker?—”
“Only up close.” The nose of his mask whispers over my hair. “And I’ve got an excellent sense of smell.”
His hand slides down my arm, taking hold of mine, and everything in me lights up like a flare. It blankets out everything but him.
“I like it,” he says.
Oh my god…
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he goes on.
It takes me a while, but eventually I’m able to find my voice, as small and pathetic as it may sound. “Well, here I am.”
Just then, whispers and giggles reach me.
“Look at her. She’s hiding in the bushes.” A group of three Omegas laugh as they stroll by arm-in-arm.
Face burning, I turn away, snatching my hand back from him. I’m coming apart.
“Calm down,” he says, his tone suddenly growing in strength and intention. I feel it down to my bones. He’s using his Alpha voice on me.
I’m flooded for a moment with peace. Calm. It’s an instant relief.
I glance at him.
“There. That’s better,” he says.
He takes my hand again, his fingers slipping mine open so he can hold it in his big, fiery hot one. It’s not a fire that burns, not in the usual way. It’s a fire that warms and unsettles things I didn’t know existed.
The peace shatters, and my nerves jump.
“Hey, you’re like ice,” he says, not using the voice this time, but the memory of it envelops me. “Relax. I just wanted to ask you for a dance.”
Somehow, I unstick my tongue. This is ridiculous. He’s just touching me.
But we don’t even know each other.
“I have my mini tablet. You can use yours to pencil one in,” I reply, and curse myself for opening my mouth. That sounded so forward.
He doesn’t laugh. “I don’t have a…a mini tablet. But I’ll get one.” He looks past me, something catching his attention, and straightens. “Save a dance for me, okay? But first I have to go see the ba—the Monarch.”
Shock slaps at me. “No one can do that.”
“Trust me, I don’t want?—”
“Mr. Ashford?” The male Omega in blue appears, the one I’d seen at the interview with the Monarch. It must be who he’d seen. “The Monarch wishes to see you. Now.”
That’s his name? His last name at least—Ashford.
Next to me, Mr. Ashford sighs .
“She can wait,” he tells the man, and I nearly choke on my next breath. No one makes the Monarch wait, not even for a second. He leans in. “I’ll see you soon, Violet.”
A new wave of panic washes over me full force. The world’s too big, too small. And my skin’s hot on my chest and face, while my hands and feet are like blocks of heavy ice.
As if sensing my distress, Iris and Dahlia join me.
“Fresh air. That’s all you need,” Iris says. They lead me to the courtyard door where the breeze wafts in, and I stare out, longing for the dark quiet of the huge expanse of the estate grounds. The glittery lights make it a fairy land.
I draw in huge gulps of fresh night air.
“Okay, I got you some dances.” Iris scrolls through the mini tablet. “Who was that you were talking to, the big bad wolf? I said mingle, not lurk.”
“Sorry.”
Iris snorts. “If it was me, there’s no way?—”
“Iris.” Dahlia’s voice is both soft and hard. “Stop.”
“Fine, we’ll get you another glass of wine.” Iris stomps off once more.
Dahlia fixes my hair. “You’re going to be great. Just be you. Oh, Jenkin Bader is heading over. He asked about you at the refreshments table. Harmless from what I hear, so he’d be a good first dance.”
And then she goes, too.
The panic rises tsunami high, and the guy I’ve never really thought about since the time he knocked my books from my arms in sophomore year heads my way.
Someone steps in front of him, a red phoenix-masked girl, and she whisks him off. I think it’s Jade .
Alicia, in a dazzling white and gold dress, swoops in and gives me a withering look through the mask that covers half of her face. “I’d tell you hands off Stephan?—”
“Who?”
“—since he’s mine, but why bother? He’s so out of your league, it’s laughable.” Another girl in a gown of shimmery colors like a butterfly comes to join us. “She’s supposed to be the Monarch’s Luxe, but look at her,” Alicia tells the newcomer. “What a pathetic outfit.”
“Oh, Violet ?” She turns to Alicia with a scoff. “She’s nothing to worry about.”
Alicia eyes me. “You’re right. She’s just an ugly little weed in the Gardener family.”
And with that, Alicia giggles and they move off.
The world wavers. My family is here, but to reach them I’d have to go back inside and cross the ballroom that now seems as big as an ocean and so bright I might melt and burn.
My heart hammers dangerously, and my chest is tight. Every breath is growing harder and harder to take.
I need to get away, farther from the noise and the judgmental stares. Now.
I can barely see or hear past the great thud of my heart. But knowing I can’t step foot back into that crowded room, I do the only other thing I can think of at the moment.
I kick off my heels and run.