Page 16 of Begrudgingly Yours
My alpha nearly snaps my neck to look at the person who dared to insult our scent match. If I had my natural scent, it would be full of fury right now.
“What did you just say?” I nearly growl at her.
Nicole rears back. “I just said the truth. She’s a wannabe. She doesn’t even love historical drama, so there’s no reason she should be here. I’m astonished that she got a callback.”
My teeth grind together in annoyance. Fuck being nice to this girl. She obviously doesn’t have the wordnicein her vocabulary.
“She got a callback because her audition was alluring and distinctive.”
A scoff escapes her. “She doesn’t have what it takes to play a demure, soft-hearted Juliet. She’s an omega with no omega instincts. How can she play a character who embodies an entire designation when she herself doesn’t?”
I shake my head, stunned by Nicole’s bullshit. “I think that you should focus on your own audition. How are you supposed to succeed if you’re always focusing on someone else? She’s a talented actress because she hones her craft. She doesn’t put her nose where it doesn’t belong, which is exactly what you’redoing right now.” The beta takes a step back from me and sticks her nose up, but I keep talking. “And, you have no idea what kind of relationship she has with her omega. That’s incredibly offensive. Keep your mouth shut when it comes to her and her omega, especially to me. Do you understand?”
She only gets a nod out before I’m walking away. Instead of my usual seat, I sit in the row across from Rory’s, where her scent can travel to me and calm my alpha. I want this role, so I can’t let anger taint my audition.
A few minutes after noon, our professor finally walks in with his usual clipboard and satchel.
“I suspect those of you who have callbacks are ready for a grueling day. I’m not only looking for the best for each individual role, but I’m looking for chemistry. We’ll start with Act 3, Scene 5, up until the Nurse’s entrance.” He looks out at all of us. “Rory, I’d like you to read for Juliet first.”
She stands up, looking incredibly nervous. My instincts scream for me to go comfort her, to praise her until her anxiousness is replaced by the usual confidence that I see in her. As she walks up on the stage, everything is quiet. Then I hear a throat clear and look up to see Professor Chapman looking right at me.
“Jett, are you okay with reading for Romeo?” he repeats. My eyes widen at him. Would I like to read for Romeo? With my scent match?
Of course I fucking do.
I stand up quickly to combat my embarrassment and pull my hair up as I head to the tiny stage. Rory is standing there, locking into the moment so we can deliver this scene together. She may dislike me, but she’s an amazing actress. She knows when it’s important to put her emotions aside.
I meet her eyes and give her a small smile, something completely different from the usual teasingsmirk I give her. Her eyebrows raise in surprise at the sincerity on my face. I don’t blame her one bit, but I want her to feel comfortable with me, even if it’s just for these few moments.
I want her to give it her all. She deserves this role. I don’t want to do anything that’ll take away from that.
“Do you want to play this serious or playful, twilight?” I whisper to her. She looks perplexed by the communication, but then whispers back to me.
“I think a balance would be best,” she suggests, and I can already hear her voice taking on a tone that’ll better perform the lines. It’s lighter than her usual grit, but still natural.
I give a firm nod. “I’ll follow your lead.”
She seems to like my response because she gives me a real smile. Her scent also seems to relax, taking on its usual tartness. She’scomfortable. The realization of that pokes me right in my chest, causing my heart to beat in an irregular pattern.
Everything is quiet just before I see her switch into the scene. We’d normally be on a fake balcony for this one, but we make due with the empty set before us.
She delivers her first lines with a philosophical undertone. Her Juliet is happy, but knows something is coming. She speaks to me, supplies subtle touches, looks at me like she is in love.
And I look at her the same, aware that I don’t have to pretend.
She clasps my hands, and utters her next words with a hint of subdued seduction:
“Therefore stay yet; thou need’st not to be gone.”
I never thought a line written by some dead guy from the Renaissance would get me hard, but here we are.
I cover her hands with one of my own, reciting my next lines and returning her softness. She reacts to my touch, to the tenderness I let fall into my words. Her scent spikes ever-so slightly, only enough that I can tell given our proximity.
My heart rate speeds up as we look into each other’s eyes and the atmosphere around us seems to grow a few degrees hotter. When the contact becomes too much for her, she laughs it off, going into her final stanza.
“Hunting thee hence with hunt’s-up to the day,
O’ now be gone; more light and light it grows.”
