Page 3 of Royal Omega

Bobby takes my arm and starts to steer me toward the veranda. I hesitate, digging my heels into the marble floor ever so slightly. “Actually, Bobby, I should take off. Big day at the office tomorrow.”

“Oh thatjob,” my mother says woefully over my shoulder. “I should never have let you take that on, Carissa,honestly.”

I swallow hard as I paste on a smile. “I like my work, Mother, as you know.”

“If you didn’t have that job, you wouldn’t need those heat drugs, either. When I was your age—”

“When you were my age, everyone was still trying to figure out what it meant to be an omega,” I snap.

My mother sniffs. “Yes we were, and my generation blazed the trail for you, dear. We didn’t have jobs or heat drugs to help us manage our heats. We had no choice but to look for our pack or despair without them.” My mother reaches out and touches Bobby’s arm, leaning close like she was telling him a secret. “You know, I really think it helped us find our true packs faster. Nowadays, omegas are so scattered, trying to do things for themselves...”

“And both paths are truly commendable,” Bobby says with a charming bow. He turns to me, and adds, “Perhaps you could spare a moment for me before you leave?”

“Of course,” I say, resigned.

I guess we’re going to do this now. I grit my teeth as Bobby takes my arm and leads me toward the balcony. My mother gives me a look before turning to greet some other political friend or (more likely ) foe.

This is going to be fucking awkward.

Chapter Two - Conrad

Ipull on my bow tie, trying to loosen the knot just enough so I can fucking breathe. I may have looked forward to these Omega Balls when I was younger, but I’m starting to realize that these damn parties are more punishment than pleasure.

I would leave, but the reason I came to this whole thing — Carissa Castle — is about to step outside with the illustrious Bobby Kaplan, and I want to make sure I don’t miss a word of their conversation. I make a low-key exit by way of the catering door, which puts me out on the far side of the property. Moving fast, I stick to the shadows as I make my way through the underbrush back toward the veranda.

I position myself just under the railing, where I can be sure to hear every word of their conversation.

The gardens are nice enough, if you don’t have to deal with the fucking mosquitos, but I’m too far away from the citronella torches to get any of their protection. I slap at my wrist as another damn bug takes a bite of me.

And that’s when I hear it: a low, soft voice that can only belong to an omega. My body reacts immediately, my blood stirring, my instincts humming. I’ve seen her dozens of times since I returned from university, but only at a distance. This is the first time in years I’ve heard her talk, and it’s like fucking music.

I dig my nails into the palms of my hands, reminding myself who she really is, even as the primal alpha inside of me wants to grab hold of the railing above my head, swing myself over, seize Carissa in my arms where I can sink my teeth into her sweet fucking flesh. She was almost mine once.

...She could still be mine, a little voice whispers inside my head.

I crush it down cruelly.Get a hold of yourself, I think savagely.You can’t possibly want her, knowing who she really is.Squeezing my eyes shut, I force myself back into my right mind.Remember what she did to you, I tell myself.Remember what her family did. Remember why you’re here.

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