Page 7 of Good Girl

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Benson was older, well preserved, his skin tan, only a few lines around the eyes and a slight silvering at the temples to give his age away. But his designation? That became apparent as soon as he got close. His words fell away forgotten as he took a deep breath in—a breath of me.

Now, he shouldn’t have, strictly speaking. The mating mark Mrs Ratcliffe had left on his neck was there, plain to see, but what was supposed to happen and what did was something else altogether. I saw it, that shine in his eyes, his teeth glinting in the early sunlight.

Walk into my parlour, said the spider to the fly.

“Cyn Rhodes,” I said, holding out a hand, nicely, genteelly, not squeezing his hand like he did mine. I was a limp little fish in his grip.

“Miranda Rhodes’ daughter?”

And with that, blood was in the water. Y’see, some of the very nice, very esteemed people at this event would be swimming in wealth Mum could never even dream of, but others? I shot a sidelong look at George, with his perfect wave of hair and his crisp suit. Others had the breeding and the social cachet, but no damn money. It wasn’t just my designation that made me attractive.

“Yes,” I replied simply, because what else could I say? A brief recounting of our forward estimates?

“Well, well, where have you been hiding this pretty little thing, George?”

Little, again. Yay. And speaking to George, not me. Even better. But I smiled prettily and waited for him to respond.

And he did, dammit, in the trademark way of his. George’s smile was a slow, secret thing, his focus entirely on me, making me feel like I was the only girl in the world. And for two hundred dollars an hour, I was.

“Cyn’s been broadening her horizons, working out what she wants from life before she rushes into a lifelong commitment. She’s no silly young thing who’s about to embarrass her mate in front of his family and associates.”

Niiiice. George was a fucking master at this, and I was going to smack a big old kiss on those pouty lips when this was done. Blue-blooded omegas tended to marry later than academy omegas, not feeling the same financial pressures. I wasn’t one of the elite, being new money, but that would be appealing to some alphas nonetheless.

“An omega who knows her own mind?” I didn’t think Benson could’ve been any more patronising if he tried. “Well, you must come and meet my son, Orion. I’ve despaired of him ever matching with anyone. Spends all of his time with his ‘boys.’ Shirking his duties and embarrassing his name, is what I call it.”

OK, either Benson and George were really old buds for him to be comfortable confessing this to us, or he was really pissed at his son. I was about to find out which.

We wove through the crowds, people looking on as we passed. That was the way of alphas. They got your attention and held onto it, not letting go until they were done with you. Our journey was a short one, bringing us to the edge of the pool, where a man stood nursing a mimosa like most people would a tarantula. His suit was too dark for the time of day, his tie awry, his shirt tails untucked, but while he looked the very picture of a dissolute young rock star, that wasn’t what drove a cold knife into my heart.

I didn’t go out into the forest often any more. Like all childish things, it needed to be put away, so I never expected to see something from it here. That day, with those boys on that car, with the omega… Had they gone through with it? All of them plunging deep inside her until she…

I knew Orion, even though we’d never had a conversation, never having been formally introduced, like I was now.

“Orion, I’d like you to meet Cyn Rhodes, Miranda Rhodes’ daughter.”

Those bright green eyes swung to meet mine, and when our gazes met, I felt it like a punch to the gut. Well, make that lower. Damn, I was glad for those super absorbent heat knickers I was wearing, VPL (visible panty line) be damned. He towered over me as he moved closer, taking my limp hand in his, the feel of his skin hot and dry, but that wasn’t what had me swaying on my stupid damn heels. It was his scent. All just about to burn but still caramelising, brown sugar and a splash of rum with just a little smoke. And when I did sway? It was closer, to take a deeper breath in of him.

“Steady there,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder blades—my almost bare shoulder blades, due to this stupid strappy dress I’d been given.

“We’ll leave these two to get acquainted, shall we? Join me for a cigar, George?”

Don’t go, you fucking traitor! I thought furiously, breathing hard, which was only making things worse. I was sucking all that the mysterious Orion was into me, my body rioting, readying itself, swelling and softening in response to—

“Love to.”

“Shall we…?” I heard the slow hiss of frustration from Orion, my omega brain struggling to think of a way to appease that. “Sit down, omega.”

There, an order, that cut through the racket in my head and in my chest and made everything crystal clear. I sat down on the small retaining wall by the pool, while he did the same beside me.

“I should apologise for my father,” he said.

“Why?” I looked up with a start, meeting those green eyes for a moment before jerking them down. Nope, nope, that wasn’t going to happen. All that practise with Kai was nothing now, because when I looked at him, I saw a much younger version, half naked and in the forest, with his raven tattoo and another girl’s slick all over his face, which just brought on an irrational need to replace it with my own. “I mean, that’s the point of these things, isn’t it?”

I created two imaginary dolls in my hands, walked them towards each other, then forced them to kiss. And bite, that should’ve been the next thi

ng, but I abandoned my playacting when I couldn’t work out a way to indicate that or knotting. Definitely not knotting. He snorted at that, his brows suddenly very mobile as he inspected me thoroughly, but like a damn alpha, his eyes got stuck on the collar. For a moment, he got caught up in that, inspecting the workmanship or some shit, I’m sure, before tugging his eyes away.

“I wouldn’t fucking know,” he replied, but there was no bite to the words. “I just got in, thought I was sloping off to bed for some well-earned sleep, then got dragged out here. Hence my current state of disarray.”


Tags: Sam Hall Fantasy