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But I’ll be damned if I let them know it.
Thank God there’s wine, at least.
We’re silent as the conversation flows from the far side of the table. The servers bring in the first course, and I glance down at the leafy greens. I’m honestly not sure I can eat. The combination of my illness and being sat next to this particular alpha is enough to steal my appetite.
I glance down the table longingly, wishing like hell I was with my pack. They’re all still watching me. Asher gives me an encouraging smile and pointedly picks up his fork, waiting for me to do the same. I humor him and put a bite in my mouth, chewing and swallowing. But it tastes like ash on my tongue.
“So,” Harry says, drawing out the word until I look up at him. “You presented as an omega?”
My cheeks heat in embarrassment. It’s not a polite question. Though generally you don’t have to ask, you can tell by someone’s scent if they’re an alpha, omega or beta. My scent is muted though. I didn’t use scent blocking soap and lotion today, but I know I’m not perfuming like an omega should be.
I force myself to meet his gaze, holding it as I say, “I did.”
“You don’t smell like an omega,” Maxim comments.
“You don’t smell like anything,” Adam adds, though he sounds more curious than accusatory.
I swallow another bite of salad that tastes like nothing and say, “IndulgScents has an amazing range of scent blocking products.” They don’t need to know I’m not perfuming like an omega because I’m on suppressants. They don’t need to know I have RMD. It’s none of their business.
I reach for my glass of wine, ignoring the way my pack is watching me anxiously.
I will not get through this conversation without a drop of alcohol. If they want to talk about it later, I will happily do so while detailing what exactly our conversation entailed.
“How many heats have you gone through?” I choke on my wine at the absolutely too personal question. Jackson and Davis’s mother pats my back while I gasp.
When I can take a full breath, I look at the elder prime alpha, eyes watery. “I’m sorry. What did you just ask me? I just- I think I misheard you because it sounded like you asked me how many heats I’ve had.”
Maxim watches me with a steady gaze, unconcerned about how inappropriate his question is. “That is what I asked you. I’m also curious how many alphas you’ve had see you through your heats. Their names, if possible.”
I blink at him, face flaming red in embarrassment and humiliation, before I look down the length of the table to where five sets of eyes are focused on us. Not one of them looks happy. Good for them. I’m not happy either.
“Names, Miss Benson,” he all but barks at me.
I grit my teeth, my fingers tightening around my fork. “My name is Kinsella now. Sylvie Kinsella. I’m a member of the Kinsella pack of Alver City. Bethany Kinsella is my surrogate sister. You know the CEO of Kinsella Limited. I believe you’re trying to go into business with them, aren’t you? Are those enough names for you, Mr. Werth?”
He watches me for a second and I think he might let it go, but then he leans forward, gray eyes, so like Jackson’s, burning into mine. “Tell me the names of the Alphas who have fucked you through your heat.”
The command wiggles its way from the top of my head down to the base of my skull and out of my mouth. “I don’t have any names for you.”
“Because you aren’t an omega and haven’t had a heat.” He sounds smug as fuck, like he’s caught me in a lie.
Even though it’s none of his damn business, I can’t let him walk away from this table thinking I’m lying about this. “I’ve had eleven heats, three a year since I was twenty. I have no names for you because I’ve never had an alpha help me through them.”
Next to me, Mrs. Werth gasps, her tiny hand flying to cover her mouth as she looks at me with horror and pity. “But that must have been so painful for you!”
I feel bad when I ignore her, keeping my eyes on her husband. But what am I supposed to say? Obviously, it was painful. Each one more so than the one before. “Go ahead, bark at me to tell you the truth. I promise you won’t get a different answer.”
Mr. Werth’s jaw tics, his knuckles just as white as mine, where he grips his knife, like he’s thinking of plunging it into my chest. He leans forward and I resist the urge to lean back, to get out of his reach. “I know you are nothing more than a gold digging whore. I have no idea how you’ve fooled everyone into thinking you’re an omega, but you are no better than your grandmother. Your mother would be ashamed-”
I see red when he invokes my mother.
The sound of my palm connecting with his cheek rings through the room with the force of a lightning strike. Shocked silence descends immediately as all eyes turn to face me. I can feel them all watching, but I don’t dare remove my gaze from the alpha in front of me.
What the hell was I thinking?
I’m an omega. I can’t hit an alpha.
My gaze trails to the bright red hand print, all but throbbing on his cheek. The evidence of what I’ve done. His nostrils flare, and I whine, a desperate sound, meant to show him I’m not a threat. I’m a meek and soft omega.
