Page 3 of Violet

I pull her down. “You’ll be dead if you break that window. We’re on the second floor.”

Rue suddenly sits. “I miss Daddy.”

For a moment, none of us speak, and the grief of his unexpected passing grows in the space between us. It’s been over a year now since that accident claimed Dad. The one Heath witnessed. The accident took Dad from us and changed our lives.

“Heath’s changed,” Rue adds. “I liked him before better. He was fun.”

“He’s still fun,” I say, ignoring Iris’s fake coughing fit. “He’s just busy. It’s a lot, running the house.”

It’s not lost on any of us that our staff’s been pared back. But I don’t comment on it, just like I don’t agree with Rue out loud.

“Well,” I say with as much perk in my voice as I can muster, “I’d better start preparing for the Season.”

A wave of panic hits me hard. How the hell does one prepare? Which of our handbooks do I read? I try and suck air in but my lungs don’t work, and someone is wheezing—me.

Heat floods my face and pin pricks dance along my skin.

I need to calm myself. I need—I need to lie down.

“Rue, run along,” Iris says as if from a long way away as my chest tightens. I worry my heart’s going to explode. “Violet and I are discussing the finer points of the Omega Feminist Movement.”

Someone takes my arm and makes me walk as black dots explode in front of my eyes.

I’m shoved in a room, pushed down onto somethingsoft, and then warm arms come around me and Iris makes me lie down with her as she tells me a story.

It’s about a plucky feminist who runs off to rule the world and turn all Alphas into slaves. It’s so funny, I forget I can’t breathe, forget the steel-like band around my chest and the panic that’s slicing through my blood, and the world comes back into focus.

“…and then surrounded by many slave men—and women, our ruler’s an equal opportunity lover—she lives happily ever after.”

I smile against the soft skin of my younger sister’s arm. Now we’re in a guest room. I know because I recognize the green velvet of the chair in the corner by the window.

“Mom’s going to lose it over us messing up the bed,” I say.

“Take a chill pill, Vi. I’ll fix it.”

She’s not wearing her perfume blocker. Iris loves the heavily spiced and sophisticated ones. But right now, she smells like her namesake. A soft, powdery sweet scent redolent with green leaves, a hint of wood, musk, and soft spice.

Her look is all angles and barriers, but her natural scent is soft roundness and an invitation in.

I bite my lip. “Dad must somehow owe money. Or ratherowed.” We have barely any staff, and old wealth is about social standing over bank accounts. I can’t be the only one noticing the differences since Dad’s death.

“Heath will figure it out?—”

“I know.” I turn and face her. “He’s become obsessed with it. It’s why he’s skipping this Season and it’s falling to me.”

“Nothing’sfallingto you, Vi. You have a choice, you know. You don’thaveto find a mate this Season if you don’t want to.”

She doesn’t understand. Idon’thave a choice—not really. Mating well will determine how the rest of my sisters mate. It could help Heath with the finances. It would make life easier for Mom, who’s still living in the shadow of Dad’s death. It’ll make things easier for everyone.

I sigh.

“Heath’s an Alpha. He gets the ability to do whatever he wants and mate when he wants. But you don’t always have to say yes, either. You can push against the norms. It’s your life. We could get jobs, live on our own.”

I laugh. “I’m twenty-one. You’re nineteen. We can’t do that, just abandon Mom and the family.”

Not just that but it’ll bring shame on our name, and all the doors to society would slam shut. Everyone here’s so…shallow.

Her mouth turns up. “You think too much.”

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