Page 14 of Happy Valentine's Day, Omega
Apparently, I'm in a relationship without even a by-your-leave. Or a note! Even a damn singing cherub would've done the trick.
I need you to understand I wouldn't go along with this farce if it weren't for my recent financial predicament. Which, by the way, I find abhorrent you've taken advantage of.
Keep your concern for yourself, because when I find out who you are, you're going to find out why my temper is infamous.
Never Yours,
A Pissed-Off Omega
I shove the crumpled letter into the torn envelope, hastily shrug on my robe, and hunt down the sour on-duty Beta handler, instructing them to 'return to sender.'
Through my fury, I silently note the handler knows exactly where to send my return letter, and sets off immediately toward The Alpha Academy.
Gotcha.
The Alpha is in The Alpha Academy over the holidays.
There aren't many students staying over the Christmas break, so the potential suspects have suddenly narrowed considerably.
My brothers assured me repeatedly that my betrothed was someone my age, which has been invaluable while making a list of potential victims.
I spend the rest of the night planning my next move.
10
I'm wired, and not in a healthy way.
My mind's choked up with emotions and thoughts, and I'm running on fumes and anger.
Collapsing onto a bench in the Omega dining hall, I take a sip of black coffee to help sharpen my mind.
I need to figure out who this Alpha is.
He's from a pure bloodline. Tricky, because I don't know the blood status of anyone. In fact, it would be rude to go around asking. If I were aproperpure Omega, I'd know off the top of my head who's part of the exclusive society.
Maybe they have a secret handshake.
A pile of letters abruptly land in my bacon and eggs with a splat. The same grumpy Beta handler from last night lumbers away before I can protest.
Gingerly, I wipe off the egg yolk and bacon grease from the letters.
The first two are from my family, both lengthy and full of apologies. I scrunch them up and throw them over my shoulder into the roaring fireplace behind me.
I'm not ready to forgive them yet.
The last envelope is the same expensive, thick paper as the missive from last night.
Huffing in annoyance, I tear it open.
Dear Pissed-Off Omega,
Oh, the nerve! I mean, sure, I started the name calling, but how dare he throw my words back at me!
I have heard tales of your temper and would ask for your mercy.
I am unaware of what financial issue you speak of, and I am most certainly not trying to take advantage of you. At least, not in that way. I've spent many hours thinking deeply about other ways I might make you squirm.
A deep flush begins at my décolletage and creeps up my neck. How many hours has he been thinking about me that way? And why does it give me a slither of pride?
