Chapter Ten Rosemary

The next few candles passed with aching slowness. It wasn't as if I wanted to be hauled to the capital right this wick, but pretending everything was fine until we left was a special kind of agony.

At least once we got onto the road we'd have chances to escape. Sir Petrichor, the alpha who had been introduced to me as Sinclair, had barely looked at me when he hurried me back to my room, once he'd decided I'd had enough time with my brother. The alpha mage didn't bother locking me in again, but told me I should come down to breakfast in the dining room once I was ready.

I wasn't sure if he trusted me, or thought so little of me he just couldn't be bothered locking me up. Maybe if the omega's sister ran away, it would be a good thing for their pack. For some reason, that was an oddly melancholy thought. I had to give myself a stern little lecture right after I had it. After all, I wanted them to dismiss me. I wanted them to think I wasn't a flight risk. And I'd done a stellar job of that so far, with all my night-time lockpicking escapades.

I took myself down to breakfast after soaking and scrubbing my slick-drenched short pants in the small shower area I'd discovered in the corner of my room. Luckily, current fashion here in Raksim was similar to Lutin and I had been given a pair of women's short pants with my underclothes, so I had one last barrier when the stone gave out before my damn slick got everywhere.

The shower area was no more than a spellstone embedded in the wall and a drain that led through the floor and outside the inn. It would have been wonderful if I could have used it properly, but the magic needed to activate the water was now safely subdued by the spellstone in my arm, so I had to settle for using my drinking water instead. I wrung the cloth out, wrinkling my nose at the faint scent, then took a quick bath in the same area. I had plenty of experience bathing with only a pitcher of water. I didn't need their fancy shower.

Had Sir Petrichor scented me when the stone gave out? Surely he hadn't, or he would have attacked me there and then. The magic must have kept the scent faint or maybe distorted it. Sir Petrichor, with his cold eyes and wicked smiles, didn't strike me as the type of alpha to deny himself if he wanted something.

I wiggled back into my damp underclothes with a shudder. I'd never had many clothes of my own, even before revealing as an omega. However, I had at least owned more than one pair of these short pants. The bounty hunters had taken me so abruptly from my home, there was no chance to pack what few items I had. Almost the moment the manacle was off my ankle, and the blacksmith had left the house, those wretched men had reneged on the deal and immediately rushed my father before he could shoot them. I had been bound and gagged, ensuring I knew exactly what my new place was. Which was… pretty much exactly what my old place had been, but with fewer clothes.

I was dressed in nothing but muddy scraps by the time the Phoenix Pack captured us. I didn't blame the innkeeper for burning them.

However, it meant that now I didn't even own the clothes on my back. This sad, damp bundle of cloth was all I had to contain myself. If I was going to slick all over it every time an alpha looked at me funny, it was going to be a rough few days.

I was all too aware of the prickly dampness against my skin as I stumbled down the stairs, after enduring the boredom of my room as long as possible. I'd hoped I was late enough to be alone in the huge dining room, but had no such luck. Sirs Hayfield and Cucumber, who had been introduced to me as Cantor and Bastian, were sitting together talking quietly at the same table as last night. They honed in on me the moment I tried to sneak past.

"Come sit with us, Rosemary," Cucumber said and when I hesitated he smiled widely, his teeth flashing bright against his dark skin. How did he learn my name? Ivan must have given it to him.

The alpha moved over by one seat and pulled out the chair between them. Their mingled scents hit me so strongly my knees almost buckled as I approached them. Hayfield was still the best smelling of the pack as far as I was concerned, but the cool and warm tones of their scents combined did something to my insides that made me suspect I would have ruined my underwear again if Ivan hadn't topped up my stone.

"Sit right here next to me," Sir Cucumber purred with all the self assurance of an alpha and I wished more than anything I could sneer my refusal in his face.

I sat.

He beckoned over a server and asked for a breakfast special and a cup of coffee, before I could get a word out. Fine. Just fine. At least I was getting a free meal out of this, I told myself. However, the frank attention of Sir Hayfield, who never took his pale green eyes off me, made me wonder if I'd be able to eat a bite. My stomach was squirming and, at the same time, I felt a desperate need to straighten my back. To make sure they could see how attractive I could be. What a good omega I was.

I savagely pinched at the raw skin of my hand under the table and hunched my shoulders almost to my ears.

"Did you sleep well, little Starling?" the pale alpha asked me finally, after studying my face for what seemed like a candle's worth of time. His voice was gruff, as if he didn't use it much, but his tone was so gentle.

"Yes, fine," I said harshly, then winced and softened my tone. "Thank you, Sir, for asking. I slept, uh, very well."

I was wrecking my cover. Not that it hadn't already been sawed into sawdust. Hayfield had definitely seen me pick that lock, and it was possible Petrichor had too. They had certainly told the rest of the pack, which was probably why there was a guard on my door last night in the first place.

Meek or not , I told myself, at least they don't think I'm an omega . I knew the second they suspected the truth, they'd clap me in manacles and drag me back to their king.

It doesn't matter how nice they smell. That compatibility thing Ivan was talking about is just bullshit.

Cucumber, in fact, was drawing in deep breaths that had nothing to do with the large platter of ham and eggs and toasted bread that had been set before me.

"Hmm," he hummed. "Your brother's scent smells good on you. Did you see him this morning?" The big man had a predatory gleam in his eye as he looked me over. I froze with a forkful of eggs halfway to my mouth.

I didn't have to feign this terror. If he somehow got it in his head to… To pretend I was an omega… I'd heard stories of betas that would try to fake or steal omega scent, back when alphas and omegas were just an ordinary part of the population. It never ended well for the betas. Which was only one of the many reasons I was so angry with my brother.

If Sir Cucumber here decided to try and pretend the mousy beta was an omega using a bit of secondhand scent…

It would be truly ironic, but that didn't make the idea any less horrifying.

"Relax, little bird," Hayfield murmured. "None of us will break your wings."

Cucumber grunted in agreement with his packmate and leaned back, the gleam in his eye fading. "I didn't mean to scare you," he said, his voice rough with regret. "I was just trying to be friendly. I apologize."

I eyed him and was surprised to see the depth of his discomfort. He didn't know that would scare me? My eyes wandered over his face. He was very handsome and did seem cheerful and confident in that way that a lot of girls liked.

Had he been… flirting with me?

The very idea made me ache. Once I had been young and just another beta and boys had flirted with me. I had flirted back.

I tried to push the thought away even as my body flushed with warmth at what it assumed was positive attention. That little spellstone had to be working overtime now to protect my poor undergarments. I truly appreciated its sacrifice.

For the Gods' sake, an alpha looks at me sideways and I'm practically rutting him in public. Such a ridiculous omega, to be so overcome by something so small as an alpha just trying to be nice to the pathetic beta girl.

In an attempt to draw my own attention away from the alpha, I took a quick gulp of the nice-smelling black liquid the server had brought me and immediately spat it back out.

"What the hell?"

Sir Cucumber roared with laughter. Sir Hayfield, to my shock, rose to grab a cloth from another table and quickly wiped down our own. It surprised me almost as much as the foul tasting liquid had, seeing an alpha prince do manual labor without just calling over the server to do it for him. Or forcing me to do it.

"Was that a trick?" I asked them, suspiciously.

"No, no, that's coffee," Cucumber said. "We grow it here in Raksim, but in the mountain regions. I take it you've never had it before."

I shook my head, not wanting to insult him, but not at all keen to try the foul-tasting drink again.

"Having it black like this is an acquired taste," Sir Cucumber continued. "But everyone likes it with sugar and milk." He poured from a small jug I hadn't noticed on the table, and swirled two sugar cubes into the remaining black liquid, turning it a light brown color. He held the cup out to me. I looked at it and then up at him, my doubt showing in my eyes, because he chuckled again.

"I promise, if you hate it this time you can spit all over me, little Wildcat."

I hesitated but his eyes were so sincere now, I couldn't seem to help myself. This time I took a much more cautious sip, but immediately made a small sound of pleasure as the warm, sweet liquid hit my tongue. Holy Beta, that was good!

Each of the large men on either side of me leaned in closer at the sound I made. I tensed up, then forced myself to relax and pretend their heavy eyes didn't feel like hands stroking my skin.

"Very good, Rosemary," Cucumber purred. "It looks like you prefer it with milk and sugar then."

"It's… uh, yes. It's very good," I murmured.

Bastian, that was his name, right? I tried to ignore his amber gaze as it remained fastened on me, the slight tilt of his head following my cup from the table to my lips, but it was impossible. Sir Hayfield had his pale green eyes fixed on my lips, but just as intensely. Why were they watching me? It suddenly felt like I was between twin suns, one green and one blazing gold, both flooding me with unwanted heat. My skin prickled and my stomach churned and I did my best to keep my own eyes locked on the cup.

How the hell was I supposed to eat like this?

As if recognizing my dilemma, Bastian abruptly pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. A pang of emotion- that couldn't possibly be disappointment- twisted in my gut as he spoke.

"I'd better go train for a bit before Lynter tracks me down to nag me. Cantor, you should take our om…" he paused and swallowed, then snorted, as if annoyed with himself. "Take Rosemary with you into the market. She can help carry supplies."

He waited, as if expecting Sir Hayfield to argue, but the large, pale man only shrugged, his eyes flicking to his packmate, then back to me.

"Good idea," he said in his gruff, yet soothing voice. "The little bird needs a chance to stretch her wings."

"You can be a bit creepy sometimes Cant, you know that?" Bastian clapped his big hand on his packmate's shoulder, but Cantor just blinked up at him briefly, before turning his head back, again , to me.

Bastian leaned over me and something shivery and almost entirely unwelcome worked its way up from the base of my spine to my scalp, until every hair on my body felt like it was standing on end. He was too close. So close I could feel the heat from his body soaking into mine.

"He's a bit odd, but you can trust him," Bastian murmured in my ear.

Before I could stop myself I retorted. "He's not odd. I…" I bit off the rest before I blurted it out.

What the hell was I about to say? That I do trust him? I don't even know him! And what I do know is that he's in a pack which might be nursing my brother back to health so he'll have lots of clean blood ready for them to bathe in!

And yet…

Somehow that rang completely false. These men were alphas, and my captors, and yet I couldn't imagine them hurting me or Ivan. Not even Sir Petrichor.

The warmth in Bastian's eyes at my little outburst only confirmed it.

"Sweet little thing, aren't you Wildcat?" His deep, smooth voice was close to a purr. A smile curved his lush lips and drew my unwilling eyes to his mouth, which was barely a handspan from mine. "Showing your claws to defend my packmate? I knew I liked you."

The statement made my muscles lock up so hard I was surprised the mug didn't shatter. And yet, it wasn't fear, anger or even disgust that made my nerves burn inside me, forcing my muscles to bunch. Nothing as reasonable as that.

No, it was lust.

Godsdamn it, I hated being an omega.