Page 31 of Undone
It made Michael uneasy, his mood darkening with every dance, every omega that failed to move him. He didn’t know why they all left him cold, why none of them stirred his blood.
You know why.
Quashing the thought ruthlessly, Michael locked his jaw tight and kept trying. He danced, flirted, and smiled, desperate to feel something. But his body remained unaffected.
His mood was as sore as his feet by the time the butler announced Anthony’s arrival.
Michael utterly loathed the way his heartbeat picked up, his palms becoming clammy. The omega in his arms became little more than an accessory he spun around the ballroom, his awareness of his own body sharpening to an alarming degree.
He hadn’t heard from Anthony in six days. Then again, he hadn’t really expected to hear from him. Considering the fact that it had been the full moon, Anthony’s silence was hardly surprising. He had likely been too busy rutting into some beautiful omega for days, stuffing his knot into their tight hole over and over and over—
“You’re holding me too tightly, my lord,” the omega said with a wince.
“My apologies,” Michael said belatedly. He forced himself not to look around. He wasn’t going to look for Anthony. The less they interacted, the better. He didn’t give a fuck whether Anthony was there or not.
Putting on a smile, he focused his gaze on the omega in his arms. “Have I told you how lovely you look tonight?”
The omega smiled, looking at him through his long eyelashes. “You haven’t, my lord. Thank you.”
They danced. Then they danced another set. Soon enough, the other guests started looking at them with speculation. Michael didn’t mind. Let them look. Let him—letthemsee what a lovely couple they made.
A shiver crawled up his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.
He was close.
Michael wasn’t even surprised when he heard Anthony’s voice behind him.
“Good evening. Mind if I cut in?”
Michael came to a halt before turning his head.
Blue eyes met his in open challenge.
For a long, horrible moment, Michael thought Anthony wanted to dance with him, but then common sense prevailed.
“I do, actually,” he said. “I’d like to continue dancing with—” He flushed, realizing he had no idea what the omega’s name was. Gerald? James? “—with such a lovely omega myself,” he finished lamely.
Judging by the glimmer of amusement in Anthony’s eyes, he hadn’t fooled him.
“You’ve danced two sets with Lord Giles,” Anthony said. “Stop feeding gossip and monopolizing the man.”
Before Michael could respond, Anthony took the omega’s hand and stepped into his place. Giles didn’t protest, looking up at Anthony with wide eyes and a flattered smile.
They whirled away, leaving Michael standing there, fuming.
He didn’t think he’d ever been this angry. Grabbing a drink from a passing waiter, he took a big sip, trying to calm his pounding heart and the instinct to chase after the pair and forcibly wrench them apart.
He hated how good Anthony and the little omega looked together. A tall, dark-haired alpha and a petite, blond omega. They looked perfect. Michael was technically blond too, but his dark gold hair was a lot darker than Giles’s.
Don’t, he snapped to himself, hating the direction of his thoughts—but not as much as he hated the confident, proprietary way Anthony held the omega, his hand resting on Giles’s smaller back. Giles was smiling, looking at Anthony like he wondered what it would feel like to kiss Anthony’s strong, stubbled jaw and bury his face in his throat. He was practically gagging for it.
Michael’s fingers tightened around the glass, his heart hammering in his ears. What did Anthony think he was doing? That washisomega, the one Michael had picked to court. Anthony had no fucking business butting into his courtship and trying to steal the omega away.
By the time the dance ended, Michael had worked himself into a near-frenzy, rage and righteous indignation making it hard to focus on anything but Anthony’s gorgeous, arrogant face.
“Thank you for the dance,” Anthony was saying, bowing over the omega’s hand.
Michael yanked him away before Anthony’s lips could touch the slim hand. “A word,” he ground out.
