Episode 14 If the Slipper Fits #3
His mouth quirks into a half smile. But he smothers it before it can fully form. Warmth and the scent of his soap engulf me as he leans closer until his lips touch the same place on my ear as Piers. “Stay away from my beta, cor mea. I don’t want to see his heart break when we send you home.”
When, not if.
All the fight drains out of me, what little there was left.
Protection.
That’s what this was about. An alpha protecting his packmate.
As much as I hate to admit it, he might be right to do it, dammit.
I give a small nod, the barest of movements, making his soft mouth move against my ear again. “I don’t want that either. I’ll… keep my distance from him.”
Even though it might kill me, I add silently.
Forsythe takes a deep relieved breath, his nose almost buried in my hair. Before he pulls back, look down at me. “Thank you, Florence.” His brow wrinkles. “We’ll try to keep you as long as we can, okay? Help you earn as much money as possible for being here, to make up for not working.”
Tears sting my eyes, even though I should be grateful for the offer. But I’m not.
“I’m not here for the money,” I say with a shrug, blinking hard to keep from crying. “Not really.”
“But you aren’t here for a pack, either.”
My smile is strained and sad. “Well, I can’t be, can I? Not when the pack is yours.”
Maybe I should admit that I’m here mostly to try to get over my fear of alphas. That apparently worked to some extent if I’m willing and able to go toe to toe with an alpha so dominant he puts Creed—the strongest alpha I’ve ever met—to shame.
Lulu clears her throat pointedly.
Forsythe glares at her before he looks back at me, with a sigh. “I don’t want to see your heart break either, cor mea,” he murmurs, before turning and striding away from me, leaving me to stare after him in confusion.
Lulu strides to my side. “Remember what we talked about, Ren. This pack isn’t for you. There’s no need for you to be getting close to their beta. At all. Not only will it not go anywhere, but we can’t even use the footage in the show.”
“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me.”
She huffs. “But it is bad. Very bad. It would be so much easier if they would have just left him at home.”
I turn my head toward her so slowly, it’s a wonder my neck doesn’t give one of those long creepy creaks as I do. Like a reanimated mannequin in a horror movie. “I’m sorry. What?”
“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “Don’t get all protective of him now. No one from his pack is here for you to impress.”
Now? Now?
The producer nudges me in the direction of the rest of the omegas.
“Go mingle. Chat it up. We need some footage of you all talking about the drama of the challenge today. We’ll start doing confessionals in about an hour.
And remember what we talked about Ren. Don’t get too attached to the pack, they aren’t for you. ”
She leaves before I can say anything in response.
“You too, huh?” a lazy voice drawls from my shoulder.
I frown looking up to find Tristan hovering over me. “What?”
He jerks his chin at Lulu, who’s retreated behind the cameras and is glaring daggers at me.
“You got the whole ‘they aren’t going to pick you’ speech, too.
” A small, disgruntled sound falls from my chest, and he smirks at me, even as his hands come up in a placating gesture.
“I was told it wouldn’t be me because I’m a male and they’ll need heirs.
I imagine for you the reasoning was a little more… nuanced than that.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Oh, I don’t know about nuanced. It was essentially that everything about me makes me unfit to be a royal omega. You know, American, lower class, failed ballerina, unpolished, etcetera, etcetera.”
He shrugs. “None of that should matter while picking an omega.”
He’s right, none of it should matter, but for this pack it does. I really wish it didn’t.
“So no chance for you either, huh?” I ask. “Is that why you gave some truly questionable answers today?”
He chuckles. “I’ve decided to embrace my role as chaos demon. Since I won’t be getting any royal dick, I’m going to create as much drama and as many waves as I can while I’m here. My new goal is to shock the queen into a heart attack.”
My laugh is loud, unexpectedly barking out of me, drawing the attention of the other omegas, most of whom sniff in disdain, probably because it's uncouth to laugh like that. I tug Tristan away from them the slightest bit, and whisper, “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. They’ll think you’re plotting murder. ”
“Who says I’m not?” His grin is sharp, but his eyes are dancing with laughter. “I’ve decided to adopt you.”
My brows arch. “You have?”
“Mmm, you and Petal. You’re both so damn sweet you need a little spicy to balance it out.”
“You know, my best friend, Haven, is the sweet one in our relationship. I’m the spicy.”
He snorts. “Please, love, on the Scoville scale you’re maybe a jalapeno. I’m a ghost pepper.”
I frown. “I think I’m at least a serrano. Maybe even a habanero.”
He laughs. Throwing his head back. “Oh, sweet summer child. There is no way you’re a habanero.”
Petal sidles up next to me, lacing her arm through mine and leaning her pink head on my shoulder. “Who’s a habanero?”
“Me,” I say at the same time Tristan says, “No one.” Then he continues. “Ren is in denial that she’s only as spicy as a jalapeno.”
Petal nods, sagely. “Ah, yes. The Scoville scale. I know I’m about as spicy as a bell pepper.”
“You’re a realist.” Tristan pets her head. “Unlike this one.”
“Not a realist,” Petal says ruefully. “Self-aware.”
“What are we gonna do while they’re gone?” Tristan asks, turning his attention to the rest of the room. “It's just so boring without them. All these other omegas are just…blegh.”
I nibble on my lower lip and glance around. The remaining omegas are clumped together, chatting furiously. Most of them are throwing glances in the direction the pack went with Isadora and Odette. “If we can track down a deck of cards we can play poker,” I suggest.
“Only if it's strip poker,” Petal agrees breezily.
Tristan and I both blink at her before he laughs. “Spicy. I like it. You just graduated from bell pepper to poblano, Petal.”