“I’m sorry,” he said as I skirted the table, aiming for the door.
“You said that.”
“If things had been different…”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It’s not me, it’s you. You need space. I deserve better. We can still be friends.” I slid a glance in his direction. “You’re shit at apologies.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
I didn’t stick around to hear whatever he’d say next. It wasn’t necessary; I knew there would never be anything between us and I’d made peace with that. I just needed the shattered bond inside me to dull, and for my soul to get on board with themoving onthing.
I pulled up short four steps from the door when a short, curvy woman filled it. Ah. Saint ChaCha, in the flesh. Her hair was a brighter purple than I remembered, a fresh dye job nodoubt, and every possible customisable part of her matched the violet shade—her eyeshadow, her lipstick, her long nails, her wardrobe, all except for the black, studded leather jacket and heavy boots she wore. It was a good look. I would have worn that.
I didn’t know what to say to her. She clearly didn’t know what to say to me.
Hi, this asshole behind me was supposed to be my fated mate and happily ever after, but he chose you so best of luck, I guess?
“I’m stealing these,” I said instead, lifting the plate of syrup-laden fried goods. “They’re mine now.”
She shrugged, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, watching me with an awkwardness I hadn’t anticipated. I’d expected hostility, a snarledstay away from my man,maybe some hissing and hair pulling. Possibly a broken nose or two. Instead her tone reflected the awkwardness of her body language.
“That’s fair,” she said with a wry smile. “I stole your mate.”
“Nah.” I shook my head, not turning back to look at Sweetie, though easily able to picture him shifting on his feet, wringing his hands, shooting me that heavy, apologetic stare again. The fact that neither of them had been major dicks to me in the past ten minutes made me a little more charitable. The week-long sex marathon probably aided that too. “He was never meant for me anyway. Keep him.”
There was something in her tentative smile I couldn’t read. “I intend to,” she said, but softly instead of the cockiness she had every right to broadcast. It was the ultimate declaration of love—choosing someone over your mate. I might have thought it was romantic if I wasn’t the one who’d been stabbed with a metaphorical rusty pole.
“What are you doing this Saturday?” ChaCha asked me in a contemplative tone.
“Killer,” Sweetie said with a note of warning.
“Oh, shut up,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. “Busybody.”
“Why?” I asked her suspiciously.
She shrugged, tilting her head as she considered me, purple hair spilling over her shoulder. “We’re having a girl’s night in the sanctuary. It might be a good chance for you to get to know everyone. Vienna said you haven’t spent much time there, and not to think the entire world revolves around me, but I think that’s because you don’t want to risk running into me.”
She was right. Not about her being the centre of the universe but… yeah. It felt weird being in the sanctuary, knowing she was nearby. Knowing I might run intobothof them, all lovey-dovey, displaying horrific bouts of physical affection.
I sighed, unable to believe I was contemplating this. “Will there be alcohol there?” It might be nice to get to know the other people here. Maybe to talk to Jessia again. I hadn’t forgotten her kindness.
ChaCha gave me a look that questioned my sanity. “Of course there’ll be booze. What do you take me for?”
Well, if nothing else, I could get completely shit-faced. I shrugged. “Fine, I’m in.”
Her answering smile felt like a peace offering, and it occurred to me that I ought to hate her, or at least resent her, but ignoring some bitterness and internal name-calling, that hatred had never formed. I’d still happily skin Sweetie alive, but ChaCha could live.
I murmured goodbye and brushed past her, not looking back. Then I found the door to the garden, sat myself on the cold iron bench that butted up against the wall, and ate my entire plate of jalebis.
And I could see it—the future. How it might look with the Alpha Knights in it, how I could merge the parts of my old life I loved with the bits of my new life I wanted to hold onto.
Yeah, maybe my mum was right about fairy tales.
16
Miraya
Iwas tempted to throw a full omega tantrum when I got to Prodigy’s office and found it empty of my alphas. Their scents hung in the air, but the room was empty. I reined in the epic sulk, because I was a grown woman without the excuse of a heat anymore. And then I crossed the compound to the door I’d been warned to stay away fromat all costs.
