Episode 14 If the Slipper Fits
Most of us are herded away from the pool area and into the empty dining room while they tear down the set from the compatibility challenge.
The winners of today’s challenge, Isadora (to no one’s surprise) and Odette, retreat to their cabanas with a handful of select “friends” so they can film their excited chatter while they get ready for their dates.
What a freaking joke.
This challenge, out of all of them, was rigged from the start. Oh, you mean the girl who’s known the pack since she was a kid won the challenge about how well you know them? Quelle surprise.
I mean really?
But thinking back on some of their answers, I can’t find it in myself to be angry about it… Honestly, I just feel a little sad. And embarrassed.
God, my answers must have felt so… childish compared to theirs. To everyone, with the exception of Petal who came across as even more naive and weird than I did, and Tristan who just answered with chaos. Thank god we were all sitting next to each other, in our own little clump of weird.
The pack is with us to give the losing omegas a chance to cry on their shoulders before they too retreat to get ready for their date.
I’m tempted to wander in their direction. More than tempted, my suppressed omega is practically tugging me toward them. But I ignore it. Her. The notion that more than half the pack would pick duty over love really… knocked me on my ass.
And I don’t even understand why.
It's just so sad, I think.
So counterintuitive to what they’re meant to be doing here.
How utterly unromantic.
Piers is lingering near the pack, at the edge of the deck. There but apart as always. And when my omega tugs me toward him. I don’t deny her, slipping over the empty space between us to press my shoulder into his arm. He looks down at me, surprised that I would approach him.
I hate that.
So fucking much.
“What’s your idea of the best date?” I ask him.
“What? Why?”
I frown. “Because you’re a part of the pack and I want to get to know you. Also, I already like you more than almost everyone here.” I can’t stop the coy little smile that curves my lips. “I want to see how compatible we are.”
He shifts, turning his body toward mine. “I don’t think we need a quiz to figure that out, little bird. I can already tell we’re very compatible.”
The certainty in his voice makes my stomach clench and my heart flutter, but I play it off with a shrug. “Maybe, but how will we be sure unless you answer the damn questions?”
He laughs. “I already know your answers, Ren. I could just match mine to yours.”
I bobble my head back and forth. “You could. But you won’t. Now tell me your ideal date.”
“Something quiet. Somewhere we can actually talk. Somewhere the world doesn’t feel so present.”
“Like what?”
“Tea. A walk. Watching the waves. Something small… but real.”
He glances away as he says the last word, like it's painful for him to admit. I get it. Half of my answers were painful for me to admit too.
“Lazy Sunday activity?”
“Cooking breakfast for my pack before they even wake up.” He flushes a little, then adds. “Acts of service are… kind of my love language.”
I smile, ignoring the way that makes my heart tumble in my chest. “I could have guessed that.” It's in the way he’s always hovering around his pack, in the way he anticipates their needs before they realize they need something. In the quiet way he watches them.
“Biggest turn-on?”
He stares at me for the longest time, his cheeks flushing a deeper pink, that I find adorable.
“Kindness,” he eventually answers.
“That’s it?” I ask, a little flabbergasted. “Are you just, like, popping boners everywhere you go?”
He laughs, rich and deep and full bodied. And damn, I want to make him laugh like that all the time. “Kindness is rarer than people think.”
“How sad that that’s true.” And it really is. “Red flag?”
“A little mischief. A little chaos.”
“Chaos turns you on, dimples? I never would have guessed that.” I flick a sneaky little glance over to Tristan. “If you like chaos, he must be at the top of your list.”
He chuckles again, but quieter this time. “Maybe chaos was the wrong word. A little trouble. I don’t mean bad trouble. I mean the kind where someone’s eyes gleam when they get an idea they know they shouldn’t follow… but do anyway.”
I hum. I think he thinks he’s describing me… and he might be right. More often than not I’m the one who comes up with some wild idea and drags others along behind me. Or I used to be at least. Mostly with Haven, before she found her pack.
“If you weren’t here today, where would you be?”
“Probably reorganizing everyone’s schedules. Or cooking. Or… honestly? Talking to you, if I could.”
It's a shot right to my heart. Direct hit. This beta male is too freaking sweet and that is not fair in the slightest.
“That’s a boring way to spend a Sunday,” I mutter to cover it up and when his face falls, like I’ve gutted him, and guilt swells. So I reach out and squeeze his hand. “You’d be much better off climbing in my blanket fort to cuddle with me. We could talk there.”
Those soft, sweet eyes of his melt even more, warming and a shy little smile curves his lips. “Yeah, that’s what I’d be doing.”
Heat crawls over my chest and up my cheeks.
“Dealbreaker?”
Piers’ mouth opens then closes. His gaze flits around the room landing on Forsythe.
Mine does too, as the prince bends closer to Petal, listening to what she has to say, until he seems to feel us watching him, and his own honey brown eyes flick up.
Piers doesn’t look away. “People who use ‘duty’ as an excuse to be unintentionally dismissive.”
It’s gentle, but firm. Soft, but devastating. An insight into what their pack life is like.
And it breaks my fucking heart.
He shakes his head. “I mean… responsibilities matter. But kindness should never be optional.”
“That’s not a dealbreaker,” I tell him gently. “That’s a standard, dimples.”
Across the room, Forsythe’s brows crunch together in confusion, and I make myself look away from him, up to the quiet, broken hearted beta in front of me.
I want to make this better for him, I want to somehow help them come together as a pack, a real pack.
One where Piers is valued and seen, one where ‘duty’ isn’t their first answer to every freaking question.
“What other questions did they ask?” I change the subject, wanting to distract him. To give him something else to think about.
“Flirting style?”
I snap my fingers together. “Right. What’s your flirting style?”
A rueful smile curls his lips and it makes that tight clench in my chest loosen. “Non-existent.”
“Liar.” I laugh, tossing my head back, while his grin grows. “You just said that to match mine.”
“It's true. I don’t know how to flirt. If I try it just… god, it's so awkward.”
“You’re doing alright with me, Piers.”
“This isn’t me flirting. This is me just… trying to keep up with you, sunshine. I swear.”
Warm, smooth fabric meets the tips of my fingers as I pat his chest, and then…
leave my hand there, because it feels so good to touch him.
Omegas crave physical affection—hugs, cuddles, hands on shoulders, leaning into someone’s warmth—and I’ve definitely not been getting enough of that since coming here. Or before that even.
Haven hugs the crap out of me every chance she gets, but it's not the same as it is with a male, with someone you're attracted to.
But beyond that this is Piers and something sings in my blood when we’re close like this.
He leans a little closer, pressing into my palm as his expression gets a little more intense. “You wanna know what my favorite scent is, Ren?”
Suddenly dry mouthed, I nod. “Yeah.” Even though I don’t know that I do. The alphas of the Ashbourne pack… they don’t know it but they got very close to describing my scent. Not specifically, but in general terms. Hibiscus and citrus would fit for every one of their favorites.
Piers’ hand comes up and he runs a knuckle down my cheek. “Hibiscus tea with lemon. My mum used to make it for me. It… reminds me of home. Like you said.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t swallow. I can’t do anything but stare up at him. Does he know? Has he scented me? Is this some kind of weird coincidence? I sway closer to him, and he does the same to me.
His lips brush against my ear. “Do you know of anyone who smells like that, little bird? Bright and sweet. Tart and floral?” He nips at the flesh warmed by his breath and I shiver, in the best possible way.
I swallow, wanting to press closer to him, and just barely managing not to. “I…I… Jesus, Piers. I think you melted my brain.”
A low, filthy laugh gusts against my temple as he pulls back enough to look down at me. “Welcome to the club, sunshine. I’ve been walking around with mush for brains since I first saw you.”
“Non-existent, hmm? What kind of bullshit answer was that?” Because he knows exactly what he’s doing, even if this isn’t really flirting, it still… kind of feels like it is.
“I think we still have a few more questions to cover.”
I blink. Right. Because… I wanted to get his answers for the compatibility quiz. My fuzzy brain tries to focus on what there is left… Beyond the one that I’m not honestly sure I want to know the answer to…
“What-Um… what… oh! What matters most in a pack?” I rush out, glad that I remembered, and then wondering how I could forget, because both of my answers matched a pack member: Safety and trust.
“Being seen,” Piers says, watching my expression. “Not just looked at but understood. That’s what the bonds do. Let your pack see your shadows and dark places, and knowing they’ll still choose you.”
He’s trying to kill me, isn’t he? Trying to melt me into a puddle of Florence colored goo. And yet, I still can’t help the spike of hurt that his answer brings. Because I want that. So badly. I’ve always wanted that.
And I know I’m just as far from having that as when I first got here. The Ashbourne pack is not mine, and never will be.