So I decide to play along, doing my best impression of my dipshit brother. There’s always one thing about twins. While we may be alike in every way possible, when we speak, we are different.
We have our own unique voices, and mine couldn’t be any further apart than my brother’s pompous tone.
“Why, yes, Alfred. Thank you.”
I don’t know if his name is Alfred, but he does look like Batman’s butler, so Alfred will do.
The butler doesn’t seem to notice my slip-up as he shuffles aside, allowing me inside the house. Wow. Rome really does have it all, and to think that he has three other homes across the world.
I won’t deny that I’m jealous.
How did Rome end up so successful while I ended up on the verge of bankruptcy?
We were both abducted at six, and I still get night terrors about my time at ALPHA. I’ve had all sorts of counseling over the years, but you can’t just erase your past. It defines who you are.
I think that’s why I was so drawn to Isaac and Sebastian. I saw a lot of myself in them. We are all products of our past, and that was how we became Pack Cobra in the end.
Nothing can come between us. Not even a pretty omega with eyes the color of sapphire.
I wait before my brother’s marble mantlepiece, folding my arms as I avoid looking at all his pretentious art. That’s when I pick up on the sound of high heels, turning my head toward the door.
I smell her before I see her.
Jeanette.
She has a strong lilac scent, and I try my best to cover my nose. The omega’s bright green eyes pop when they find me, and then her skin turns five shades lighter.
“A-alpha… you’re home already?”
Alpha? My brother makes his omega call him alpha?
I glance at her neck, noticing the lack of a bite mark. He hasn’t marked her. Odd. It’s in an alpha’s nature to want to mark his omega, but he has left Jeanette’s neck bare.
He has left her unbonded.
A little dangerous. With her being unbonded, it puts her life in jeopardy. As far as society is concerned, Jeannette is still up for grabs. But no one would dare touch my brother’s omega. If he’s had his knot in her, then that makes her his in his eyes.
I don’t know what his game is exactly, but it doesn’t bode well for Jeannette.
“I’m Roman. Rome’s better-looking twin brother. Do you know when he will be home?”
Jeannette stands as rigid as a statue, and I wonder if she has malfunctioned. She really is one beautiful robot. Perfectly formed, perfectly subdued.
I bet she never fights back. I doubt she has an autonomous thought left in that brain of hers.
She clears her throat. “His lordship should be home around four pm.”
It is now three forty-five. I have fifteen minutes to kill. Jeanette may be bland and lacking of a personality, but it beats talking to the wall.
I couldn’t bear the idea of Dove becoming a husk like Jeannette, and a part of me is glad that she still has free will—that the OCC didn’t correct her.
That blue fire in her eyes could set the world alight.
Fifteen minutes pass in silence, and I think I would prefer to talk to the wall. It has more personality than my brother’s omega.
This is torture.
Jeanette erects like a meerkat next, and I glance her way.