“I’m not ready,” I admit.Why is my voice so small?I hate it.
Emery leans in close. “No one is ever ready. That’s the secret. But don’t let them force you, Helena. You gave me nearly the same advice.”
I smile softly. “I did, didn’t I?” Although I’d given it to her while trying to make a case for my brother and his pack, that maybe they weren’t always as terrible as they’d been to her on Emery’s own Omega Selection Day.
I look past her to where Ranier is watching us, arms folded and jaw tight. I love my brother, but sometimes I think he’d prefer I were as simple as a family ledger: neat rows, predictable numbers, and no messy remainders. Which is ironic, coming from him.
I’m about to say something when the glass doors open and my mother’s voice carries out, brittle and urgent. “Helena, darling, they’re ready for the toast.”
Emery smirks. “Showtime. You want backup?”
I’m tempted, but I know it’ll be easier if I’m alone. I hand the bottle back to Wyatt, who salutes me with it. Bastion ruffles Emery’s hair, and she swats at his hand before grabbing me by the wrist.
“Go on, show them how it’s done,” she whispers, conspiratorial. “And if you need to hide again, you know where to find us.”
I take a breath and roll my shoulders back into the posture finishing school taught us.Chin up, eyes bright.
The ballroom is even louder than before. I find my mother instantly. She’s halfway up the dais, beaming like she just won a war. My father stands beside her, stiff as a board. He’s watching me and only me. Making sure I keep playing the part.
I will. For now.
Everyone else is noise and moving shapes, blurred by the buzz of expectation.
I slip back into my spot, letting the familiar scent of home anchor me. I raise my glass as the crowd turns, waiting for the words they want from me. I say them, smiling perfectly, the way I’ve practiced. But under the practiced words, I wonder if I’ll ever be allowed to want something different, something that isn’t already written for me.
When the toasts are done and the applause rolls over me, I search for Emery in the crowd. She’s at the very back, waving with both hands, utterly unafraid to look ridiculous.
I wave back, maybe a little less afraid myself. At least for tonight.
CHAPTER 2
Zane
The east wingis quiet this morning with the exception of the hush of the cleaning staff and the muted birdsong from the garden below. I’ve been awake for three hours, and already, I feel the house’s mood in my marrow. Every hallway radiates tension, and the air tastes faintly of honey and panic. Helena’s room is at the end of a velvet-carpeted corridor that, despite the pastel wallpaper and gilded sconce lighting, gives the impression of a tunnel leading nowhere good.
I let myself pause by the door before knocking lightly. “Helena?”
A muffled sound, then the slow click of the latch. She’s dressed, but not in the more proper clothes her mother prefers inside the family home. Instead, she wears jeans and a loose, white tee, and her hair is down, falling in a black wave that nearly covers her eyes. She’s left her family crest pendant on her dresser. She’s rarely so careless, but honestly, the lack of ceremonial polish actually suits her, makes her seem more herself.
I keep my voice low. “Ready?”
She flashes me a tight, little smile that doesn’t even try to pretend she’s fine. “As I’ll ever be.”
The tension in her posture is familiar. Yesterday’s parties, the way her family paraded her through every social circle—they’ve left her brittle and spent. I can sense the residue of adrenaline, the crash after performing the role they’ve trained her to play.
She hasn’t slept well, if at all.
“Your father’s waiting,” I say. “He asked for you at eight.”
“I know.” She glances past me to the stretch of hallway, then back at me. “You don’t have to walk me there, you know.”
“It’s protocol.” I let a note of wry humor slip in. “And besides, he prefers it.”
She snorts then covers her mouth. “Right. Wouldn’t want anyone to think I was out here unsupervised.” In truth, I knowsheprefers an escort when home, but I’d never say that aloud. I’m happy to be even the smallest buffer between Helena Starling and her family if she wants me to be.
I’d guard her with my life. Not just because my job is protecting her, but because one night many months ago when we both happened to forget to take our suppressants, we discovered we’re scent-matched.
Helena is my omega. Both in regards to my job as her bodyguard, and in a scent bond that’s never been physical.
