Page 2 of Runaway Omega

“Well, you’ll find your alpha at Haven Academy, Melissa. They have connections to the best families.” The older woman lowers her voice an octave, so I have to strain to hear her over the violin’s climax. “Let’s hope you’ll learn some of the famous Haven grace. I don’t know what you were doing with that beta, but it was not dancing. Are your shoes too tight?”

A sad sigh. “Yes, Mother. The problem is my shoes.”

“We’ll see about getting you better shoes. A shopping trip always improves my mood. Let’s hope it improves your grace as well, hmm?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And lift your shoulders. No alpha wants a hunchback when they can have their pick of omegas like Everleigh. Who knows, maybe you’ll find your Lawrence at the Haven end-of-year ball.”

The song comes to a stop.

Lawrence smiles indulgently down at me, and after taking my right hand, bows like the perfect gentleman he isn’t.

I lower my head, peeking up at him through my lashes. My smile is as much of a performance as the kiss he brushes across my knuckles.

Another woman sighs. “She’s so lucky.”

I have hairdressers to tease my long, white-blonde hair into loose curls, stylists to create the perfect smoky eyeshadow to make my light-green eyes pop. I even have a home gym to hone my five-foot-four figure, the better to show off a wardrobe full of designer dresses.

On the surface, it must seem like I have everything.

But my life is a perfect lie.

I live in a world where omegas don’t have to work, don’t have to do anything but have their alphas provide for them. An idle, easy life like that might be attractive to some. It was once to me, until I learned it comes with a gilded cage.

All I want is the little sister I love, who I don’t think is my little sister at all.

And to draw.

That’s it. In all the world, those are the only things I feel like I might need.

“He’s so gentle with her. Tessa’s alpha drags her around like a piece of meat,” wistful omega mutters. A sniff of outrage follows. “Well, it’strue, Mother. He does. I want an alpha to treat me like that.”

No. You don’t. You really don’t.

A memory drags me from the elegant ballroom to Lawrence’s leather and mahogany office months before.

“Lawrence, please, it’s just a pencil.”

With his head bent over his papers, he speaks briskly, “You are my omega, Everleigh, and my omega must be perfect in all ways and all things. Hand.”

Curling my fingers into my palms, I tuck my right hand behind my back as I retreat a step. “I promise I won’t do it again. I just missed drawing. You don’t have—”

“You’ve heard what I’ve said about calluses. Clearly, all lessons must come with a punishment. Hand. Now.” He lifts his head. “Or would you rather I found some other punishment? Perhaps you need me to pay a visit to that sister of yours.”

My weakness. I don’t have many, but Della will always be one of them.

I uncurl my fingers and place my right hand flat on the cool, dark wood desk.

My drawing hand. The one he always demands when I rebel.

He nudges his papers to one side and reaches into the drawer beside him, pulling out a long, heavy ruler. He lines the wood up with my knuckles, lifts it high, and—

“Everleigh?”

I blink.

The frown is back in Lawrence’s eyes.

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