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“What’s this?” I cupped her cheeks and peppered her face with kisses. “When did you turn so philosophical?”
“One must needs turn philosophical when one flits between an alpha and omega so opposed to each other. I half wonder that they are not already in love and too perverse to admit it.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “I will never permit an alpha to touch me.”
“And—”
I shook my head in a firm negative and pulled away from her embrace. It would be wrong to say her words hit too close to the mark. I loathed alphas, especially the ones who made the people I cared about happy. The thought of one touching my body with any intimacy made bile rise in my throat and for reasons too simple and yet too complex to explain. “No more talk of alphas. Get gone, dearest.”
Her pursed lips were eloquent. She did not approve of my resistance to her romantic and fanciful notion that if only we tried Puck and I could share her, perhaps more.
“You are angry with me?” I plucked at bedding which pooled around her waist.
“Yes,” she said simply. “But I forgive you. I’ll be back as soon as I am able.”
“Goodbye, sweet girl.”
“Oh not goodbye, Polly! In bocca al lupo!”
“Into the wolf’s mouth? Where did you hear that?”
“An Italian opera singer. You must reply crepi il lupo!”
I repeated the words back to her though it mystified me we should be wishing the wolf to die as a way to wish luck in some endeavour. But then opera singers were a superstitious lot and Sarah loved the opera.
While I waitedin the dining room for news about Stimpson, my fingers played on the table, a mindless rhythm that warned I was on the cusp of getting drawn into useless thoughts. On a down beat, my ring finger landed on a spot that needed polishing. Reluctantly I inspected the patch of rough wood. I’d never have the funds to redecorate and, seven years on, the furniture and fabrics could be called shabby by a generous soul. Even if I had the money, there were no craftspersons I could trust to maintain the house to any fashionable standard.
That was price for keeping my charges safe while they regained their strength—both physical and mental—before returning to the world at large with new identities and new possibilities. For though I never wanted an alpha, most omegas longed for them.
Rubbing my finger along the roughness I wondered how long it would take before a splinter broke free and caught in my finger. Years, I hoped.
Again my repetitious fidgets reminded me it had been too many months since my last heat and my restlessness would only grow until the storm of sexual need stole away my reason. I’d beg for an alpha and settle for the unsatisfactory stretch of a dildo’s false knot.
Goddess, but if creating a refuge at Omega House was my dream, to stop being an omega with all the demands of my dynamic was a longing I’d never be able to achieve.
“Ma’am.”
I looked up to see Prog, one of my beta servants, standing in the entrance of the dining room with a platter heavy with letters. “Is’t word from Wales?”
“Aye.” He gave me a toothy grin and unceremoniously dumped the post at my elbow. “Mustardseed was big with news when he dropped off the package. But said he’d wait until your guest had left.”
I gave into the joy coming off him and grinned like a child told they could have a second sweet. “Brilliant. And on the topic of my guest, have the birds anything?”
My birds, my spies scattered across London and the country who reported to me with a faith and loyalty I had earned with blood, sweat, and tears.
“The way’s clear for her to return. Jude’s saying he can come at eight.”
“He’s an ass,” I tutted affectionately. My Jude was a beta but acted as high-handed as any alpha who liked to think he could arrange my life. If my heart was not his, I’d have his head on a platter like the one Prog carried long ago. “Thank you. Tell him eight meets our needs just fine.”
My henchman winked and after rubbing his cheek against my palm, adding his scent to all the ones I carried from men and women I worked with, he left with a sailor’s ditty hanging in the air.
I flicked through the evening post, separating the envelopes into piles of personal and business. My thoughts, however, were preoccupied with the matter of my guest. Beatrice was here because of Stimpson. Stimpson had been sulking around London with alphas I suspected of playing a part in an organisation that sold omegas to the highest bidder. Though my sister was under my care, the business gave me a headache not knowing what Oberon and Puck had planned. My history with them told me they’d help only if they could profit in some way. The whole mess was out of my hands and the alphas had reduced me to guardian of my omega sister.
Moments after I’d collected myself and relegated my anger to the furnace I tapped into when needed, I smelled my sister. Beatrice was all roses, a perfect omega scent unmarred by that of her alphas now that she’d been away from them for a week. So unlike how I covered my scent with as many betas as I could, but enough of that. She’d want the good news.
“You can go home tonight,” I told her without looking up, afraid that I’d see her joy at leaving me. Or the twinge of guilt I felt every time I saw how pale and drawn she looked or the dark circles under her eyes speaking to how terrible she’d slept this past week. “I… I am sorry to have kept you so isolated here. But I can’t have people knowing too much. They have been skittish and my people… I am spread thin at the moment.”
“You are astounding,” she assured me as if what I did was completely beyond her ken. I looked up and took her in. Soft, abundant curves matched a beautifully round face. Her red hair, the same shade as mine, was stylishly coiffed to match the equally elegant dress she wore. “I felt a fraction of…”
