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Viola
By the graceof our Goddess, Syon had not noticed the difference between the real Iris and myself. Any number of reasons came to mind. It had been dark, Syon had been angry, or perhaps something as simple as my disguise being effective. Most likely because he had no sense of smell. Still, like a pathetic omega, I fretted. I hardly knew what had happened between him and Iris. My foolish twin had brushed the incident aside and said only she had told the duke she was not wooing the countess.
The next few days signalled a return to my new normal. Nothing so easy as the first weeks with Syon. That comfort had long gone after the kiss. How could I look at him and not think about the kiss? Dream about his taste and the way he felt between my legs. Dammit. I’d never believed in heaven until that moment—only a fool wouldn’t dream of heaven once they’d experienced it. Instead, I couldn’t concentrate and I had an itch along my mate gland into which I rubbed peppermint oil. I crushed the seeds of Queen Anne’s Lace for tea until my aunt discovered and grew agitated that I might take too much and trigger my heat. I had never heard that it could increase fertility and nearly stopped drinking my tea altogether. Instead, she ordered her doctor to procure Wild Fernweed.
“It is an old wives treatment but far more effective. Your Papa… He was the one who used to find it for me before I was married. He always looked out for me as if he were an alpha instead of an omega.”
It was the nicest thing she had ever said about my father. Once again I wondered at the strangeness of my uncle and aunt mating when they seemed so incompatible. She was young, I realised. Certainly not in her forties for she had been much younger than my father. While my uncle would have been older than my father if he had still been alive.
“Why do you look at me like that?” she huffed.
“Do you mind it?” I asked. “Being mated and married. To need to follow an alpha’s needs. To have your world…”
“Do you think I am unhappy? La, niece! You mistake things. How could I be unhappy?” but her laugh telegraphed her bitterness. “I have everything an omega is meant to have. A husband. A mate.What more could I want?”
Children, the word popped into my head but I caught it before it slipped out. Every omega desired children. An alpha might desire them—especially an alpha child—to inherit, but omegas had a need for children. I knew it myself. So easy to smile distractedly when little ones skipped about in the Park with their nannies attempting to manage their excitement. A desire I had only considered natural. Never had I thought about the possibility of never having them. The image of the house on Weymouth Street when I left… Quiet. No voices, not even those of my aunt and uncle. Unless they happened to run into each other on the stairs or were forced to go to some social gathering together. What of her heats? I wondered if they were happy then or if it was yet another duty as mates that they felt the need to fulfil.
* * *
I remembered the conversation the next morning as I sat in the library staring at Syon’s golden head bent over some letter or other. He was squinting. Not for the first time, I wondered if his eyesight was as poor as his sense of smell. My tongue grew thick in my mouth as I sought the words to ask him… Ask him for reassurance that when he married the countess he would not mind if she could not have children. Whether he would cast her aside. She had not produced for the late Earl.
“Looking severe, Hartwell,” he tutted me when at last he looked up. “Why so serious? Is there ink on my face?”
I was in no mood for teasing and shook my head.
“I…” I faltered, for I could not ask the question. “Perhaps it is indigestion. May I go?”
A frown drew his brows low. I’d never given it any thought to his eyebrows being darker than his hair. Now, I fixated on them in hopes of distracting myself. But Syon could not leave well enough alone. He crossed to where I sat. It was the closest we had been since the night I had kissed him. No, he’d spanked me, but I’d not enjoyed that at all no matter that I’d flushed all over. I watched, entranced, as he reached out and placed the back of his hand to my brow. “You are not hot. No fever.”
“I said indigestion, not that I felt feverish,” I mumbled.
“Of course,” he withdrew his hand so quickly it was as if he had been burned. “I can have Horne bring you something.”
“A walk might do me well.”
“Go then. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he returned to his chair and fixed his eyes on whatever he was reading.
“Syon. I am sorry. I did not mean… I think,” I tugged at my cravat in hopes that it would loosen the noose which tightened by the day. “I am not used to spending so much time in the city. I am not used to so many people.”
“Then we should go into the country. Retire to Ayleigh for a few days. I admit I too miss the country. You must think me a hermit. I hardly spend any time in my clubs.”
“Perhaps you should visit Ayleigh,” I said in a soft voice. “But I cannot go to the country. I must think of my sister and your suit with the countess. The bill for omega property rights. Your interests in town…”
“Damn my suit. Hartwell, you are not thinking clearly. Come to Ayleigh with me. Rest for a few days. Ride, shoot. Whatever takes your fancy, I’ll provide for it.”
My refusal sparked an argument punctuated with stretches of hostile silence. But the sum of it: he would not let me leave the house if I did not agree to spend at least a week at Ayleigh with him. The stalemate was brought to an abrupt end when Horne intervened with the information that Syon had agreed to attend a card party that evening in Richmond and should Horne call for His Grace’s carriage. I tidied my desk with unnecessary vigour. “I am glad Your Grace has decided to go out more.”
“It is a card party... It is all politics and no matter.”
“Politics do matter! What do you think I have been striving to do these last weeks but demonstrate how very much politics matters,” my chest heaved as I drew in deep breaths. His scent, his alpha scent inflamed me. My temper heightened and my need to... I did not know. There was no need beyond him standing by my side, at my side. To do what? I slammed my fist into the wall then shook it out. “Dammit.”
“Claws in, Puss. What’s put you out? You’ve been unruly of late and not just in refusing my invitation.”
My cheeks grew hot when Syon called me Puss, and it made my breasts feel heavy and my pussy ache with need.
“I will see you tomorrow,” I almost shouted as if raising my voice would prevent an alpha from arguing with me.
I rushed from his presence. Angry, confused. Part of my soul demanding I return, go to my knees, and beg his forgiveness. Then again, I wanted to rip him apart for being so high handed, for making me want him to take me in hand, to master me. I was never so needy outside of my heats.
