Page 32 of Royal Omega

Well there’s no chance in hell Ransom and Henry would go for that. And if I’m honest, I can’t imagine my life with Cindy as my omega. I would never trust her enough to make her the center of my pack.

Luckily, I’m saved from answering her when a murmur spreads through the crowd. I look up to see what they’re staring at, and see Carissa descending the staircase, dressed in a flowing, deep-blue gown that complements her skin in breathtaking style. Her long neck is decorated with a sparkling necklace, and her hair is loose and wavy, drifting down her back.

Her eyes find mine for a moment, and she falters on the stairs, slipping a bit before someone grabs hold of her arm to steady her. I grit my teeth as I realize it’s Henry, smiling down at her, showing off that damned dimple that makes everyone turn to jelly.

I’ll admit, I’ve found myself weakened in the knees by that smile from time to time.

Fucking Henry. I need to find a way to distract him if my plan is going to go forward... and I might need to find a way to distract myself, too.

***

OUR TABLE IS AS INTIMATEas a table can be when there are cameras mounted on the sides, the lenses staring into our souls, cold and black. A cameraman circles around us, as if poised to catch one of us chewing with our mouths open. Henry and I are seated on one side of the square table, and Ransom and Carissa are on the other. Carissa’s eyes are darting from one of us to another, her expression strained and uncomfortable.

A waiter comes by and tops off her glass, which she grabs, sipping frantically on the ruby liquid. I try not to watch the way her lips purse. I try not to think about her tongue as it slides out, stealing the last drop of wine from her bottom lip.

“I think I should address the elephant in the room. I’m not sure if Conrad told you, but he and I... we used to date.”

Henry chokes on his wine, and Ransom shifts in his seat. I stare at her, wondering if the blush that rises on her cheeks is born of embarrassment, shame, or the number of glasses of wine she’s already consumed. I counted three, maybe four, and the food hasn’t arrived yet.

We used to date. That’s a fucking understatement if I ever heard one. More like I was in love with her, and she was using me to destroy everything that mattered in my world.

“Conrad mentioned something about that,” Ransom says easily. “He said it was a long time ago, though?”

Carissa’s eyes rise to look deep into mine. “I suppose it was a long time ago,” she says softly.

I had planned to tell her everything was water under the bridge. That I knew what it was like to be young, and I knew we had both changed. But now, sitting across from her, I find myself unable to imagine smiling at her, pretending that I don’t blame her for the deaths of the people I loved most in this world.

When I don’t say anything, Carissa’s eyes fall back to the table. A waiter drops a roll on her plate, and she grabs it, pulling off pieces and chewing desperately. Food follows, and I eat in silence. Carissa, Henry, and Ransom engage in some stunted conversation about the lavishness of the mansion and the beauty of the table. None of it means anything. None of it is real. I stab at my food without eating, though I have no trouble tossing back several glasses of wine. I grab a waiter halfway through the meal and ask him to bring me a whiskey.

Finally, after a grueling hour of small talk and two whiskeys, the meal ends with a bowl full of berries. I watch Carissa eat them, one at a time, trying to convince myself that I’m not hard as a rock under the table. Her attention is focused on Ransom and some story he’s telling about a summer he spent working at a motorcycle rally in South Dakota.

“It must have been so interesting,” she breathes.

Ransom chuckles. “It was. Made a lot of friends.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“And you were out there alone?”

“I was alone a lot at that age.”

“Where were your parents?”

“Gone.”

Carissa’s expression turns sorrowful, and she puts out a hand, laying it on Ransom’s. “That must have been really hard.”

There’s a tinking sound, and I realize I’ve squeezed my glass so hard that it’s cracking. I put it down quickly, drawing deep breaths to control myself. Ransom shoots me a warning look, but I don’t care.

“That must have been hard for him? Really?” I ask, trembling with rage.

Carissa’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “Yeah... I mean, my parents aren’t easy, but it must have been really hard to lose —”

“How can you just sit there and talk as if you didn’t take my parents away from me?”

Her eyes widen. “Take your parents... what are you talking about?”

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