Chapter Six Rosemary

I've never been fond of overbearing men, even before my father had succumbed to his own overwhelming arrogance and locked me up permanently to be a toy for alphas. Ivan was the sweetest, gentlest soul under the gods' blue sky- most of the time- and that was the standard all other men had to live up to as far as I was concerned. I'd compared all my early trysts to the kindness I knew could exist in a man.

I'd never found it anywhere else.

So the Phoenix Pack already had a steep hill to climb to earn my respect as men, even before one considered that they were an arrogant bunch of alphas, birthed from a tyrant, and were holding me and, more importantly, my brother prisoner. I was determined to hate them. Determined to resist them to my utmost.

And yet the second my stupid omega body took note of their scents, it urged me to fawn all over them.

"You're the beta girl we found with the omega?" The speaker was at the head of the table, on the other side of Sir Petrichor from where I was seated. I took that to mean that he was the pack's leader, which, in turn, meant he was almost certainly a prince. Even seated, I could tell the head alpha was muscular, and he stared at me with a kind of majestic confidence, as if he were on his own throne looking down at me, although he was seated on a wood and woven-reed chair, no different from mine. He was dressed in a fine, red shirt that set off his golden skin. His eyes were dark, his hair black and cropped short, and he gave me the impression of a hulking bear, somehow cuddly and violent all at once.

I tried to glance at him only with a few small peeps, not sure if I'd be beheaded for impertinence if I outright stared, as he was doing at me. I kept reminding myself that I was meek, I was cowed, I was nothing for these men to worry about.

The packlead's scent, like fresh-cut pine wood and cinnamon, curled across the small space between us, singing to me, coaxing me to lift my eyes, to look my fill at the strong alpha, maybe to tilt my neck a little…

I gritted my teeth, ignoring him and my ridiculous omega body, and stared at the table until someone slapped a platter of meat and bread in front of me. That startled me enough that I reared back and my traitorous eyes immediately locked on the packlead. He raised a thick, black brow at me.

I swallowed the stone that was suddenly blocking my throat and jerked my attention back to the platter. Hot food. Roast meat with a steaming breadroll, some kind of stewed greens, and fragrant gravy poured everywhere.

My mouth watered, suddenly far more concerned with the scent of food than that of the people around me. Forget alphas. My whole world became that platter.

I hadn't had a decent meal in five years. No, more than that. Not since my mother had died.

"How old is he?" The packlead asked, his deep voice stern. "How is it that he's still unmated at his advanced age?"

I almost snorted. Advanced age? Ivan was one year younger than me, and only 22.

Practically an elder.

The questions weren't barked, with none of the magical force that I knew an alpha could inject into their tone, but they brooked no defiance either. Unfortunately for him I had no idea what to say, so I ignored him some more and inhaled my food as if I hadn't eaten in days.

Actually, I probably hadn't eaten for days. Being smuggled across a border and caught in a mudslide will do that for you. I had no idea how long I'd been unconscious, and the bounty hunters hadn't exactly been gracious hosts before that.

"Girl! Answer my questions."

And, there it was. The bark. The hard edge an alpha could put to their words that would compel most betas, and all omegas, to obey. I had felt it before, many times, and hated it every time.

"Tell me about the omega."

Something in me cracked a tiny bit, as I struggled to think of how to respond, now that words were burbling up inside me at the force of his command. I had plenty of practice resisting an alpha bark, but even so, I couldn't resist for more than a few seconds. I stared at the table as if terrified to look at the men surrounding me, and turned different answers over in my head. It had to be the truth. His command wouldn't allow anything else. But the truth could be bent, or even omitted if I was clever.

"Uhhhhh, I…I…" I stammered, throwing as much fear into my voice as possible. So much, I wondered if I was overselling it, but a quick glance showed me I was not. Every face I could see was a perfect mix of irritation and pity. Good .

I didn't dare look at the mage next to me though. Sir Petrichor, who smelled of steaming, sighing forest rains. He seemed more canny than the rest of his pack. I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face as I struggled openly with the barked commands.

"I don't know, Sirs," I said, trying to whine like a beta. Whining was supposed to be an omega trait but, in my experience, plenty of betas could whine like spoiled brats if they didn't want to do something.

He'd asked about ‘the omega' which made it difficult to answer without giving away the very dangerous truth. I settled for being vague.

"We're from a really small village. We're still young, and there's not much choice for mates there."

I had no idea where that accent came from but I hoped it sounded like a poor, scared peasant. The alphas of Raksim were well known in my country for their snobbery. Every scrap of derision would work in my favor.

I was meek. Foolish. Harmless .

I stole another glance around the table. The pity had ratcheted up a few notches on some of those handsome faces. The irritation had increased on others. I felt Sir Petrichor stir beside me and tried my best to ignore him. I did not need a repeat of that hand stroking incident right now. It was difficult enough to concentrate while the packlead barked at me.

The deep, earthen scent of the alpha mage wafted over me, mixing with the crisp, midwinter pine scent of his packlead and my skin broke out into goosebumps.

"How old is the omega?" The packlead was one of the irritated alphas, rather than one of the pitying ones, of course. A bear doesn't show pity to its prey.

He kept the force of his bark on me, driving the words up my throat even as I struggled.

I gritted my teeth against them, but his bark was very strong. The strongest I'd ever felt. Godsdammit, please don't let him ask the right questions.

"The omega is 23, sir," I said without looking at him, hoping he didn't catch how I'd phrased that answer. I shoveled food into my mouth, and then regretted it when he kept right on talking.

"Where is he from?"

I almost choked on my food as fear closed my throat and had to dig my fingernails into my palms to keep from shaking. We were only a few days from my village, at most. If he decided to investigate directly it didn't matter how cleverly I phrased my answers. Everyone in Maire knew about my family. They knew which one of us was the omega, and they'd be all too happy to talk.

"From… From Lutin, sir."

"I know that, girl," he barked. "I mean where…"

"Does it matter, Davos?" One of the other men snapped. "Let the poor girl eat. She probably hasn't eaten in days." He cast sympathetic eyes at me. "You never even introduced us. She probably doesn't have any idea what's going on."

I stared at my savior. Sitting on the other side of the packlead- who was apparently called Davos- was an alpha who seemed oddly familiar to me. His dark skin gleamed with warmth against his white shirt and orange waistcoat. He wasn't the tallest alpha here, but he was the largest one at the table, strong but burly in the manner of a man who enjoyed his food and ale. He was also the most well dressed, his short beard trimmed and stylish, his head hair curled and well-oiled, his nails painted to match his waistcoat. He winked at me as I stared at him, long lashes sweeping over his amber eye, and my cheeks heated before I tore my own eyes away.

A sudden glimpse into last night sparked in my mind, a foggy memory of being swept up into massive arms, of amber eyes shining down on me like twin suns with a warmth that somehow made me feel like everything would be alright. A hint of his scent reached me as my stupid omega lungs fought against my common sense to draw him in. Sweet and cool, tasting of the starry borage flowers I'd once grown in my garden. Sun-warmed cucumber and nectar. The light touch of it startled me, cutting through the other scents to sweep across my palate like the kiss of butterfly wings.

"My name is Bastian," he told me, when I hesitantly raised my eyes to him again. The look he gave me was far, far too kind. This man could charm the wings off a butterfly.

He was dangerous.

He went down the table, introducing each alpha as if we were friends and I was just joining them for a casual meal. The idea was so seductive I was on the verge of giving them my own name in response, when Davos, at the head of the table, opened his mouth again.

"We need more information so we can keep the omega safe," the packlead snapped, instantly dissolving all of my goodwill. "What were you doing out in the middle of the storm?"

"The omega had been… taken by bounty hunters. We… we escaped and were running from them when the storm hit." His bark scraped across my nerves, until I was almost shaking from the struggle to delay until I could formulate answers that wouldn't give us away.

"What is he to you, beta?"

This answer I could give freely, since they should already know. I'd been stupid enough to give it to Sir Petrichor, and there was only one ‘he' the packlead could be referring to, omega or not.

"Iv…" I cleared my throat, angry at myself for almost giving them his name. "He's my brother."

"Ah." Davos stared at me for a while, as if trying to think of more ways to prod at me, then turned to his own meal, his questions done.

I was dismissed.

I burned, shifting in my seat, my face hot with sudden anger. That was the crux of it, right? I sneered at myself. That's what hurts your dumb, little omega heart the most.

Cruel, demanding, selfish alpha assholes they might be, but the worst part is that all they want to know about is my supposedly omega brother.

They hadn't actually asked for either of our names. Why would they? They didn't care about omegas, or betas, as people. I knew if I were still chained to that wall, with all my scent intact, they wouldn't hesitate to use me the same way all the other alphas did.

It didn't matter what these ones smelled like, all alphas were all the same.

I tried concentrating on the others at the table, ignoring the three at the head, and it didn't help at all. By the gods, why did they all smell so good?

The rest of the room, with all the other people there, were throwing off scents that smelled like sticking your head in pig slop. Sure, there were a few things in there that weren't so bad, but it was all mixed together into a gross swill that burned the nostrils and made you want to fill the bucket a bit more with the contents of your stomach.

These men though… Next to Bastian was a pale giant that smelled of sweet, fresh hay, filled with clover and wildflowers. Beside him was yet another prince, judging by his familial similarity to the alpha who had been in my corridor when I emerged- Carlile- and Davos… No. Sir Midwinter. I wasn't going to call them by their godsdamned names if they weren't going to give me the same courtesy. Bastian would be Sir Cucumber. Carlile was Sir Lilacs. Davos should really be Sir Asshole, so he was lucky his scent reminded me of winter festivals, when my mother used to burn pine-oil candles and cook sweet, spice-laden desserts.

Never mind that I didn't want these alphas to know my name. They never even tried to get it.

The third prince, who sat with the straight-backed posture of a soldier, was wafting lemon blossom and figs straight at me. All of their scents swirled together into a heady mix that made my thighs tense as I fought off a flare of warmth at my core.

I wanted to murder them all. I wanted to scream at them until they really saw me .

I wanted to steal their shirts and build myself a nest.

Oh gods, a nest.

I pinched my hand so hard under the table that my eyes watered, and then I had to stop myself from sniffing at my wrists in a panic. Was the magic running out already? I should not be thinking about nests.

Ivan had warned me long ago that if I started trying to build a real nest it was only a matter of time before a heat would hit. It had been so long, I'd assumed it was never going to happen.

Omegas didn't start to have heats when alphas weren't around to set them off. It was the one saving grace of living in Lutin. The alphas I did see had never stayed around long enough to make a difference. Unfortunately, having six of them interrogating me for a candle in a closed space might be enough to trigger one.

There was no way the concealing magic would hold against something like that. Heats were legendary. They were unstoppable. We'd truly be fucked.

In my case, quite literally.

I needed to get Ivan and get the hell out of here.

Tonight , I resolved to myself. I'd pick our doors and get him out tonight. I'd carry him if I had to, but my brother and I had to get away from these alphas.

Omega or not, we were nobodies and it was obvious the pack agreed. Dirt-poor, damaged foreigners with nothing to offer a bunch of princes.

Surely the Phoenix Pack had better things to do than to chase after us when we ran.