Page 7 of Happy Valentine's Day, Omega
"This can't be real," Patricia shouts and wastes no time launching herself at me with hungry eyes. She rips the box from my hands, and I don't fight her.
Instead, I take the chance to clamor to my feet and back away from the horde of rabidly curious Omegas. Patricia is holding the box so close, her face is practically touching the jewels. I fight the urge to snap the box shut on her pointed nose.
Instead, I'm pulled into a tight hug.
"This is so exciting!" Cara squeals, her breasts pressing insistently against my arm as she bounces against me.
I feel like I'm underwater.
My brain shudders to a halt, my eyes wide.
Cara pulls back to study me.
"Nat? Are you alright?" she tentatively asks in a soft voice that somehow penetrates the shrill level of excitement in the room.
Forcing myself out of my stupor, I lick my lips.
"I don't know," I reply honestly, because this was never, ever a possible outcome. I've thought of every way my life could go… at least, I thought I had.
This wasn't even on my top fifty list.
Who in their right mind would spend so much time, money, and effort to court me exclusively?
Hell, if they'd waited until the academy finally listed me available for courtship, they probably wouldn't have had any competition. I'm not exactly a catch.
I grind the heels of my palms into my eyes, groaning softly.
Cara's delicate features pinch into a determined expression.
"Right!" she declares.
It's my favorite part of Cara. She's an angel, the perfect Omega, until she takes control of a situation and beats it into submission. Usually during homework assignments, or when Patricia bullies a vulnerable Omega.
She purposefully marches me towards the dormitory staircase, shouldering the crowd out of the way as we go.
She nimbly plucks the necklace box out of Patricia's hands as we pass, and snaps it shut.
"We'll be taking that, thank you very much," Cara says in her all-business voice.
"This is a mistake. No one would want to exclusively court an Omega like you," Patricia hisses as we pass.
I wholeheartedly agree.
6
Ifinally admit to myself that I saw this coming.
The fountain pen, the woolen socks, and the red ribbon were a prelude to the major star of the show: the ruby necklace.
I shoot a caustic glare at the closed black box nestled in the rumpled blanket on my bed, as ifitorchestrated the chaos.
But the necklace didn't do it.
The sneaky fucker who gave it to me did.
"So, you're being courted?" Cara asks cautiously.
"Nope," I shout, and then sigh. "I mean, technically, yes."
