Page 109 of Juliet & Her Romeos

Then I notice a shelf at the back, which holds more modern looking books and give a squeal of delight. I run toward it, skirting the statues, running my finger down the books’ well-worn spines.

Someone has been reading these.

Is it Ambrose?

My eyes sparkle.

They’re sports romance smut, the type where the Alpha jock quarterback falls for the coach’s forbidden Omega daughter…

My smile widens.

He may not understand that Swan and I are his now and aren’t going anywhere. But we’ll show him.

He can act as much like the tough CEO as he likes, but I now know that he secretly reads smut and not the classic, weighty tomes in the rest of the library.

Can I get him to read me some of his highlighted sections?

All of a sudden, I catch a glimpse of movement from the very back of the library, in the middle of the floor.

My pulse speeds up.

I swallow, before creeping closer.

Do the Romeos have a pack dog? A cat?

Fuck, I hope that they don’t have rats.

Well, unless they’re cute pet ones.

Then I stare in wonder at the huge pile of pages, which have been torn out of books and then heaped on the floor like leaves in fall.

The empty books, as if they’re shells without snails in them, have been discarded against the wall in neat piles. The book leaves themselves are old, yellowing, and look surprisingly soft heaped like this.

In fact, they look like a nest.

A nest of paper.

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

Then the leaves part and a pair of forest green eyes gleam out at me.

“You’re not meant to be here.” A man’s educated, English, and honeyed voice declares.

Benedict.

“Apparently, I do that a lot,” I joke.

Benedict scrunches up his nose. “You do. But I like that about you.”

For a moment, he doesn’t emerge further.

I wait expectantly.

Is this something that elite Omegas do? Nest in their posh libraries?

My uncle would’ve kicked my ass, if I’d made a nest anywhere.

Is Ambrose truly okay with this?

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