Page 87 of Fallen Omega

I bump into someone, and I dart up a startled look at the woman. She’s well dressed. Not flashy or anything, but she could work in an office in her pants and blouse and vest.

People, Ray said. To me, people is shorthand for a man and woman, or men and women. He mentioned the man in a cap. Not person. So…

I give up with my convoluted thoughts as the woman speaks. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking, but now I have you, can you spare a moment?”

My heart both sinks and slows its beat to normal.

The smooth transition into pre-sales speech is familiar and innocuous.

“A moment, but I have to get to work,” I say.

I’ve played the game before. It’s part of city living having people approach and try to sell you something. Whether it’s apack recruiter—some do that, usually weird, freaky ones—or people looking to get money from you and everything in between, it’s a familiar dance with familiar dialogue.

She throws a curve ball by shoving a photo under my nose.

My heart almost breaks free of its bone prison.

“Have you seen her? She’s not in trouble, but I’m so worried…”

It’s me.

Oh, fuck. It’s me.

Looking up at Dad, smiling, hair free and?—

I breathe slowly, carefully. “I’m sorry. I’m new to Starlight City, so I don’t really know many people.” Average and nondescript is key. Dad drilled that in. Average melts into faceless and into forgettable.

“Have a look.” She shakes it under my nose.

I take it, looking because running brings attention. I pretend to study it, but my eyes are blurred with unshed tears as my heart hurts looking at Dad.

Finally, willing my fingers not to shake, I hand it back. “Sorry.”

I step past her and keep moving at the same pace, turning off on a street that leads to a lot of stores and businesses. From there, I wait at a closed restaurant, staring into the plate glass window.

It’s busier now, but people are moving by, not looking at me or lingering.

Inside, it hurts. I try to hold the aching parts of my heart as I keep going, back to that desolate and bare bones basement studio in the Wharf district. Seeing that photo tore at something. I think because it’s one I haven’t seen. A candid moment.

And—

Candid.

Someone took that photo. Someone who was watching us.

The Council?

Each beat of my heart urges me to quicken my pace, to run, but I don’t.

I walk, and my spine is ice, prickling like a thousand eyes are on me.

It’s in my head.

Not even Reaper is behind me now.

I want…I want those touches. Those kisses. The rough and honest elemental from him. The seduction and satin-wrapped sternness from Knight. The pretty, pretty man with the soft curls and dimples. The one who asked me to call him Daddy.

I liked it. The place of control and domination in a kind form from Knight, who can kiss like an angel with a dark heart. Or a devil with a good one.

---