Good Girl by Sam Hall
Chapter 5
Orion’s lips rested just above my pulse point, teasing the skin there in a way that drove me out of my goddamn mind. Like I was halfway there anyway, with the liquid breakfast the two of us had consumed. Food was scorned for rich, salty, sour Bloody Marys, ones I was almost spilling down my dress at the feel of that mouth on me. But I looked up, spying the cause of all this affection almost immediately. Small, dainty, a sweet little pocket pet of an omega, it must’ve taken her some balls to come sauntering over here.
“Ah…Orion?”
He pulled away slowly, leaving a trail of little kisses along my shoulder as he did so, those eyes burning into me before shifting to stare at the intruder omega.
“Yes?”
“Your mother sent me over.” An arm went behind me, curling around and pushing me up into the hard length of his side. “She said to remind you to have something to eat and to meet some of the other guests.”
“Other guests?” A nose brushing against my collar, nudging it so as to draw my attention back to its cold clasp. “I’m afraid I only have eyes for one. Scoot back. Inform my mother. She’ll be fine.”
I waited until the girl was a fair distance away, flouncing back rather dramatically, before I turned into Orion’s embrace, our mouths only millimetres apart. I could feel his breath on my skin, taste that burnt sugar scent of his, and yet, I was about to say something that would bring this all to an end.
“So we’re Bridgerton-ing this thing?” I asked, looking to the outside world like I’d asked him something super saucy, like if he wanted to measure the depth of my throat with his dick. I met those impossibly green eyes and watched them widen in actual surprise, all that cool, calm, and collected alpha bullshit faltering for just one moment as what I said was decoded.
“That’s what this is, isn’t it? Daddy sends some poor suitable omega into your clutches. You appear entranced with her for the event and then never speak to her again.”
“You make it sound so cold-blooded,” he replied.
“Isn’t it? Like, I get it. This shit’s a fucking joke, but…”
What I left unsaid was the impact it would have on the poor omega, spiralling out on his alpha bullshit, the realisation that none of it was real coming a whole lot faster mentally than physically. With his scent in her nose, her body would pine for him long after he forgot she existed.
“It’s not cold-blooded at all,” he said between clenched teeth, and every instinct inside me instructed me to shrink down, make myself small in the face of his passion. Passion that wasn’t directed at me. “My heart isn’t my own to give away, no matter what my father says.”
“You have an omega on the side? Why wouldn’t you declare them to your family? If you’ve claimed him or her, your father can’t do much about that.”
“Not an omega.” He ground out the words, wanting to pull away from me, I could see it, but something stopped him. “Not everything is about alphas and omegas.”
Well, he didn’t have to tell me twice. My eyes dropped down, the pressure in my sockets easing, and I fought the urge to rub at all the hard work the makeup artist had gone to so it seemed like I wasn’t wearing any at all.
“There’ll never be an omega for us,” he said, brushing his lips across the top of my ear to make me shiver. “No sweet little cunt or arse to take our knots.”
And then I knew exactly what he was talking about, why he needed a beard, and why he maintained this pretence.
“You’re in a poly relationship and your father doesn’t approve.”
“Yes.”
He stared at me, frowning slightly, obviously wondering how the fuck I worked that out, but he shouldn’t have. Polyamory was becoming more of a thing, particularly in the educated classes. People were sick of the strict A/B/O dynamic and wanted more. But he shook that confusion off quickly enough.
“Though what you said before, about bloody Bridgerton…” He tipped my chin up to meet his eyes, looking like an alpha exerting his power over an omega. “That could work. He pretended to be her suitor, and blokes flocked to her side, wanting what he had. This could be a win-win for both of us, little omega.”
“You think you’re as hot as Regé-Jean Page?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow, but bugger, dear reader, if he bloody wasn’t. I would have been happy to roll around in RJ’s used underwear after I binged Bridgerton, but damn, I couldn’t remember a thing about that now. The duke had been transformed into an avenging angel in scruffy formal wear and eyes like chips of emerald.
“So what, you want to squire me around to the season’s events to keep the omegas away so you can be with your alphas?” I asked.
The idea was perfectly ridiculous. I’d had a fun morning but would need to pop some Panadol before we made it to this evening’s festivities if I wanted to avoid a hangover. I also might need to persuade George to make a cheeky Macca’s run in that oh so lovely Porsche of his. But this needed to end, now.
Those eyes slid slowly down to my mouth and stayed there, and for a second, I watched a small frown form.
“Yes,” he replied. “I think I want that very much.”
He didn’t use his alpha command, right when he would have been able to crush my will like a bug and no one would have gainsaid him. Instead, his voice was quiet and desperate. That, that was what undid me, sent all my good intentions tumbling to the wayside, that sound. I’d heard the desperation in his voice before, some part of me imprinted by it, destined to try and seek its match. It didn’t matter to me that it wasn’t me he was craving, because silly little omega, we just took the overall cues, his tone, his proximity, his endless staring at our mouth, and said the only thing we could, given the situation. “Yes.”
He moved in, placing a kiss on the very corner of my mouth, and I heard a little gasp from across the patio in response.
“Thank you. If there’s anything in my power to give you, name it, because this will be a little more complicated than what you described.”
“Of course it will be,” I muttered bitterly.
“All four of us. I need you to be seen with all four of us.”
But I did see them, gold and glistening in the sunlight as they approached the girl like feral wolves, those tattoos on display, which should have sent me screaming. What had ended up happening that day? Had she ended up fucking all of them? Had she wanted that? My therapist said I would never actually know and fixating on it said more about me than the omega, so I reached out and took Orion’s hand, to focus on the man here and now. His fingers linked with mine, but he showed no sign of feeling the electrical pulse that shot through me. My thumb moved across the back of his hand, stopping when I saw a small raven, an inked in silhouette at the base of his thumb.
“And you’ll help me find my alpha in return,” I said as I covered it with the pad of my finger.
“You do this for us, and there won’t be anyone who will be out of your reach. We’ve got contacts, pull, influence that you would not believe.”
That was why I did it, I told myself in the car afterwards, as we pulled up at the Macca’s drive through. This was my best chance of doing what I needed to. I looked out at the neatly manicured shrubbery, seeing wild trees where there were bushes, stout trunks where there were golden arches. Maybe, just maybe, with his mates’ help, I’d find a guy with acreage where I could roam free, with him content to wait until I was ready to fly back into my cage.
If this really were Bridgerton,some wonderfully bitchy chick from The Sound of Music would have announced that I was the diamond of the season to one and all, for snaring Orion Ratcliffe so early on.
They didn’t.
I did make it into the society pages, the gossip mill already working hard.
“I heard you’ve made quite the splash,” Mum said, looking up at me from over her tablet. “Orion Ratcliffe. He’d be an excellent match.”
For once, Mum looked relieved, the little pinch of tension gone from between her eyebrows. I agreed, sat down at the kitchen table, and told her the edited version of events.