Knot Your Damn Omega (Slate City Omegaverse)

Eva picked up on the third ring. “Nice to hear from my wayward sister.”

I laughed. “I know. I should have called before. I’ve been exhausted.”

“I bet you have.” There was laughter in her voice. “Are you okay? With the news breaking?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I wish it hadn’t, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Mom, however, woke me up this morning by literally screaming my name through the phone.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Any chance you’re free for lunch? I’m going to need massive back-up.”

“I am actually. Getting ready to leave, so I’m not doing much.”

“On location? Did I know about that?”

She laughed. “I’m pretty sure I told you. Like four times.”

“Fuck me.” I’d completely forgotten.

“From the sounds of things that happened a lot.”

“Ha ha. I just forgot about it.”

Running water filtered through the phone, and a clatter like Eva was rinsing dishes. “Well, now you remember. Is lunch at Aurelia’s?”

“Yeah, but I have another thing to ask. I’ve been instructed not to leave the house without Wes or one of the other guys. And I think it’s pretty clear this is going to be… visible for a while. Do you mind if I borrow Wes and Henry for the time being? I can pay for replacements.”

Eva snorted. “I don’t need you to pay for replacements. It’s actually perfect timing. Since I’ll be on location, I’ll need less of my own security. I’ll send them over now and see you in a bit!”

She hung up before I could say anything else, but that was fine. Neither of us loved the phone. We used it when we had to, but especially being twins, in person was always better.

Now I just had to wait for my expensive bullet-proof chariot.

Instead of going anywhere else, I sat on the stairs, arms around my knees, and just breathed. Kade struck a nerve this morning, just like he had last night. I was alone at this moment, but I wasn’t alone. They would be back tonight, and so would I.

There was excitement lurking in my gut, but right now it felt more like relief than anything else. Just to have people to come back to.

My phone buzzed a while later. Wes. “Hello?”

“I’m outside at the door. They’re out here, but Henry and I are ready.”

“Be right there.”

Putting on my trusty hat and glasses, I took a breath and went outside. The door locked behind me, and I was slammed with sound and light.

Esme, have you finally tricked a pack into putting up with your shit? Have you finally been knotted enough to thaw out? Are you slumming it because none of the high-class packs want you? What would your father think?

I tried to shut out the words and let Henry and Wes help me through the crowd and to the back of the car. They were just words. They didn’t matter. I kept the mantra strong in my head. Just words. Only trying to get a response.

“Thank you for coming,” I said.

“Of course. Eva told us we’re with you for the foreseeable future.”

I let my head flop back against the seat. “Yeah. Because I’m once again the center of attention.”

“Where are we going?” Henry asked from the front.

“My house. I need to change, and then lunch at Aurelia’s with Mom. Depending on how long that takes, I need to do some work at home before coming back here. I’ll be staying here for the courtship, at the pack’s request.”

I caught Wes’s quickly hidden smile.

“It’s okay, you can be happy.”

“I am, Miss Williams. It’s good to see you find a pack who knows your worth.”

There wasn’t much I could say to that. It was the truth. It was nice, even if everything in me was terrified it would collapse like a house of cards. I fluctuated between being scared and elated.

It didn’t take long to reach my house, and there were paps there too, but the words barely reached me this time. “I won’t be long.”

Under my clothes, I’d taken Rylan’s idea to heart, putting on some of the sexy lingerie they’d bought. The lacy bra and underwear set were dark grey, and I had no idea who had chosen them. All I knew was I hadn’t seen this set in Luke’s selections.

But for my actual lunch outfit? I didn’t know. Without the guys, I would have put on nice pants and a blazer over some kind of t-shirt. Nice, but edgy enough to fit the role which had been cast for me. I liked being edgy sometimes, but I liked softness more. Had Eva been given freedom to choose her persona, we would have been entirely reversed. She would have been the one with edge, and I would have been the one in floral dresses.

Pushing aside my normal clothes, I went to the back of my closet, where I kept things I loved but hadn’t had a chance to wear.

Immediately, I saw what I wanted. It was a perfect crossover between what was expected of me and what I wanted. It was a black dress. Lacy and off the shoulder, it somehow managed to be feminine and edgy at once. I distinctly remember how I felt when I bought it, and the disappointment when Eva’s media team told me I couldn’t wear it.

It had been a long time since I had been told I couldn’t wear something. But it was more because I’d stopped trying to break out of the mold than that they’d left me alone.

I rarely wore dresses other than when I accompanied Eva to parties like the one where I’d met Ben. So fine. The paps wanted pictures of me? I would give them good ones. The fear in my gut was still real, but I was going to hold on to the courage the pack gave me.

My pack?

This morning Kade had made me say my room instead of the room. My pack instead of the pack.

I slipped the dress over my head and found matching shoes. This might be considered over-dressed, but it was Aurelia’s. I needed the armor. The same restaurant where I’d been humiliated, and still one of my mother’s favorite places to go.

She didn’t know about what happened. No one did—not even Eva. I hadn’t told her because it wasn’t her fault, and there was nothing she could have done.

Make-up, jewelry, and dry shampoo later, I was ready to go. It was a touch early, but I’d rather be early than late.

“Ready, Wes.”

This time I only had my sunglasses. My mother would kill me if I wore a baseball cap with this dress.

I winced, remembering this morning. It didn’t matter. I knew it didn’t, but the voice in my head was so used to it. Truthfully, I hadn’t even noticed until they pointed it out. My mother’s voice was as strong as my own in my head.

What made it worse was that she didn’t mean any harm, and I loved her. But at some point, it needed to stop.

Esme, why the black dress? Ready for another funeral? Why try dressing up? Everyone knows you’re the edgy twin. Trying to fancy up the fact that you’re slumming it?

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes when the car door shut, breathing deep. Those questions cut deeper, and I was seeing Aaron’s face as he told me I should embrace being the slutty sister everyone wanted to fuck but no one wanted to love.

“Are you all right?”

“No,” I said with a sigh. “But I will be. I might have to stay inside for the rest of the courtship if it’s going to be like this, Wes. I’m not sure I can handle this kind of shit being thrown at me every day. I know it’s just headlines and I know they don’t matter—”

“But it doesn’t make people screaming your worst fears at you any easier.”

I looked at him, the question in my eyes.

“It’s different with Eva,” he said quietly. “Different questions, but they still manage to pick at the things which bother her. I don’t know how they manage it. They’re a bunch of industrious psychopaths.”

A laugh burst out of me. “That’s the best description of paparazzi I’ve ever heard.”

“If you want to stay at the pack’s home until you decide, we can certainly help you move your studio equipment to their house if it’s easier.”

“That’s nice of you.”

He chuckled. “It might be overstepping, Miss Williams, but I’ve known you a long time. You’re probably not surprised how much we know and have seen, and you have good reasons for every hesitation. But though it might not be my place to care about you, I do. We all do. And I would hate to see industrious psychopaths derail the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“Thank you, Wes.”

I didn’t think about it a lot, but Wes had been with us for the better part of my life, working for my father before he switched to Eva’s—and occasionally my—security.

We pulled up at Aurelia’s, and blissfully there were no paps because they didn’t know I was here yet. I was sure there would be a swarm by the time I left, given Eva and I would be in the same place at the same time. Since the way was clear, there was no point in using the back entrance like Mom asked.

“Think about it,” he said as he ushered me inside. “If you need to move things, we’ll help you.”

“I will think about it.”

On the one hand, having my studio at the pack’s house sounded nice. And on the other hand, I felt it was important to keep my own space. Not as a reservation in case things went wrong, but just for some distance if I needed it. I’d been single and alone for twenty-eight years. Almost twenty-nine. I was sure I would need time-outs now and then.

But then, there wasn’t anything saying I couldn’t go back to my house as a studio once everything was settled one way or another.

“Name?” The maître d’ asked without looking up.

“Esme Williams. I’m meeting my mother, but I doubt she’s arrived yet.”

She looked up in shock, and the smile replaced it just as quickly. “Of course, Miss Williams. My apologies. Right this way.”

She led me through the restaurant. There were plenty of patrons even though it was barely noon. Slate City’s elite, most of whom had few things better to do than go to lunch. I caught a few stares, but not nearly as many. Some of these people I recognized, and some were friends of my parents. But my presence wasn’t startling to them.

“Here you are.”

The table was in the center of the room, and incredibly visible. Naturally. But there were only two places set. “Please bring a third place setting. My sister will be joining us.”

“Oh!” The woman perked up, clearly delighted to have Eva Williams in her restaurant. “Right away.”

I sat, and the production began. Aurelia’s never let any customer want for anything. A menu was in my hand and a glass of water poured in seconds.

The room was wall-to-wall shades of white. Tablecloths, pearly wallpaper, chandeliers painted white, and plush carpet. It had the look of a giant wedding cake. Frothy and beautiful. I wished it had better memories.

In contrast, I looked like a dark stain. Black on white.

My mother entered the restaurant, brushing by the maître d’ with a wave. She didn’t need directions. This was her favorite place, and was here at least twice a week. Usually at this exact table.

She wore a subdued pant-suit in pale pink. It suited her, even though I knew she despised the color pink. All a part of the image she presented. Why?

As I stood, she looked me up and down. I clocked the look of surprise and faint disapproval at the dress, and it was hard to ignore the pang in my stomach. Feeling like a disappointment was the worst—especially when I tried so hard. But still, she smiled when she saw me.

“Esme.” She pulled me into a hug. “You look different.”

“Thought I’d try wearing something I actually enjoy.”

Her eyebrows rose, and we sat down. She didn’t say anything as the waiters converged with her menu and water and the third place setting before disappearing once more. “You look… nice. Not what I expected, but I wasn’t expecting a lot of things this morning.”

“Hi! Sorry I’m late.” Eva breezed up to the table and kissed Mom on the cheek before she got up. “That is a killer dress, May-may.”

“Thanks. Mom’s not a fan.”

Mom sighed. “Esme. It’s a perfectly fine dress. But it’s different from your usual style, and given everything that’s… happening,” she couldn’t even say I was courting a pack. “I’m not sure right now is the best time to change your image. We’ve all learned the lesson not to change too many things at once. It confuses the press. And it is much closer to Eva’s current style.”

She told the truth. My sister was in a red maxi dress which flowed around her and set off her blonde bob perfectly, along with matching lipstick. But frustration burned in my chest. I was more than tired of my life revolving around the media. We would have been characters in it regardless of Eva’s career because of who dad was, but it was exhausting no matter what, and I didn’t want this to be my life. I didn’t want to be her, wearing a color I hated at her age because the media thought it was my personality. So, wrapping the confidence from this morning around me, I looked calmly at my mother.

“Eva and I are nearly twenty-nine. The public knows who we are and why we’re different. I think it’s time I’m allowed whatever the hell I want to wear without it being approved by a committee. Especially since the style everyone wants to give us is the polar opposite to our personalities.”

“Language,” my mother hissed.

“Oh my god, Esme.” Eva was beaming. “Hell yes. I totally agree. Let’s trade.”

“Stop it. Both of you. This is not the time or place to talk about a different media strategy. We’ll come back to that. Please explain to me why I woke up with my phone ringing off the hook, asking why my daughter was all over the papers with a pack of tattoo artists? Not to mention Katarina calling me, frantically asking if she was fired?”

All of this was happening in hushed tones since we were in the middle of the restaurant, which was fine with me. If we’d been at Mom’s house it probably would have been much louder. If everyone remained calm, it was easier to keep my head and be rational.

Eva snorted and took a sip of her water. She also held up a hand to keep our waiter from approaching. “I hope you told her yes. That woman is a bitch and has no place helping Eva when her advice is to pick a pack who’s good enough and make it work.”

Our mother pressed her lips together, but notably, she also didn’t disagree. “How did you meet this pack?”

“First, I want to say my life is not a media strategy, nor do I want it to be one.” Putting my hands in my lap, I clenched them together to keep myself from shaking. “I don’t want to live a curated life. I want to live a real one. So I won’t be talking about a different media strategy. Not here, not ever. Not once have I ever done something to warrant the press’s hatred of me, and I’m not planning to. All I want is to be myself and live my life. If the press and the public can’t handle that, I’m sorry, Mom, but it’s not my problem.”

Beneath the table, Eva reached over and squeezed my hand. I squeezed back, grateful for the support, and equally grateful for her silence in this moment.

Mom, however, was staring at me with a mixture of incredulity and shock. I continued. “I met one Alpha at the studio party I went to with Eva. He’s a world-renowned tattoo artist who was invited to do tattoos on whoever wanted them. Our scents—” I took a breath. “Given the amount of scent cancellers in the room, the strength of his scent was notable. The rest of the pack are also renowned artists, and when I met them, they asked to court me. Shortly after, because of the presence of so many… impactful Alphas, my heat started. They helped me through it, and now I’m courting them.

“I wasn’t hiding it from you intentionally. I was going to tell you, it was a little impossible given the timing and the flow of events. I’m sorry you found out from the pictures—I did my best to keep out of the eye of the press. For my own sake.”

“Let’s not keep the staff waiting.” She waved the waiter over, and we ordered. I didn’t order much, uninterested in food. But Mom got her glass of white wine and waited until the waiter retreated. “While I am happy you’ve found a pack who’s interested in you, this looks bad, Esme.”

Shame coiled in my gut, though I knew it didn’t belong there. “Why?”

“You might not care about the appearances, and I wish they didn’t matter. Truly, I do. But our family is well known, and whether or not you like it, people are paying attention. I’m sorry it’s not the life you wanted, but it’s the way it is. We have a legacy now, and it needs to be protected. It’s why I hired Katrina, to help you find a suitable pack. One who could support you in a life like this one. Maybe you think I’m blind, but I am plenty aware lives lived in plain sight like ours aren’t easy. But it is the way it is, and your father—”

“Mom.” Eva’s voice was sharp as a slap. “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘your father would be incredibly proud of and happy for you,’ then I don’t even know what to say.”

Another sip of wine, and Mom sighed. “You know very well they weren’t.”

“I don’t see why not. This is hypocritical, even for you. I love you, but how do you not see what’s happening here?”

I stared down at the plate in front of me, frustrated that any strength I had was gone. The force and simple logic of her words made sense.

Of course they did, since it was the thought process fed to me my entire life. Why was it so hard to break away from something I knew I didn’t want when it was laid out in front of me like this? And why couldn’t I seem to open my mouth and defend myself after I’d been the one to start this?

“Do enlighten me on my hypocrisy.”

Eva huffed out a breath and tossed her napkin on her plate. “I’m mated to a rock band. Not exactly the high end of society by your standards, and trust me when I say every member of my pack did a lot of shit you wouldn’t approve of before we met. Certainly more than Esme’s pack of tattoo artists. Who, as she said, are world–renowned artists. Just because their art doesn’t hang in galleries doesn’t mean the quality is any less, and I can prove it in about ten seconds. You didn’t bat an eye when I met my pack. You were over the moon, and weren’t worried about the appearance of it. So why is this different?”

“You couldn’t help yourself,” my mother said. “You were clearly scent-sympathetic. It would have done nothing but brought you pain if I disapproved. And the story played well.”

“What, the story of the wholesome ingenue swept away by the reformed rockers who changed their ways, charmed by my innocence?”

I looked up at Eva and found her eyes burning with anger on my behalf. I was grateful for her silence earlier. Now I was grateful for her ability to speak.

“And what exactly do you think is happening here with Esme? She told you in the gentlest of terms she was scent-sympathetic with Ben at the party, but I promise you, there was nothing gentle about that connection. I was there. It was exactly the same as me, except my career and what Esme has had to deal with because of it made her doubt it was real.

“You haven’t even met them, and you’re judging them. I have met them, and let me tell you, if Dad was alive to meet them he would be thrilled. You’ve sat through all those pack interviews and seen all the assholes trying to make her into an Eva Williams clone, and you aren’t even willing to consider it? I’m so disappointed in you.”

My head snapped to my sister. That was the last thing I expected to come out of her mouth.

Mom was staring at her too, and slowly, she looked at me. The good daughter in me wanted to comfort her and tell her everything was okay. But this had been coming for a long time, and there wasn’t anything Eva said which was untrue.

I knew Mom loved me, and I knew in her own way she wanted what was best for me. But her vision of what was best and mine were entirely different.

She didn’t say anything, and we simply stared at each other. There wasn’t an apology coming right now. I knew that. But I couldn’t leave it like this. “Will you at least meet them?”

“I’ll consider it.”

“Great,” Eva said, tossing back her glass of wine. “So glad you’re going to consider meeting the men who are head over heels in love with your daughter. Let’s go, May-may. I don’t feel like salad with a side of snobbery today.”

She was already halfway to the door when I stood to follow her, giving my mom a sad and apologetic smile. But that was the only apology she was going to get from me. We stopped before we left, waiting for Wes and her bodyguard. “You didn’t have to do that, Eva.”

“Yes, I absolutely did. Because it’s been years, and I’m sick of it. I know you are too. You think she’s going to be angry at me because I just made a scene in the middle of the restaurant? No. She’ll still find a way to blame you. And I’m happy to be the one to do it. Even though you would never say it, all of this is my fault.”

I sighed. “No, it’s not.”

“You’re right. It’s not directly my fault. But it is because of me.”

Eva’s car pulled up, but I had to ask her. “It’s gotten worse since dad died, right?”

“Yes. It has.”

When my father was alive, it was the same. I was still placed in a box for the sake of Eva’s career, but it wasn’t nearly so obvious. And the matchmaking didn’t start until after his funeral. The whole thing with Aaron happened while he was alive, but it got worse after he passed.

It was something I needed to think about. Without thinking too much about Dad.

“Want to go to Oscar’s? I am in desperate need of some cake with a side of greasy fries.”

“Yes, please. Maybe it will make me feel less guilty.”

She tugged me outside, and the press converged. We didn’t speak until we were inside her car. “You have no reason to feel guilty, Esme. And believe me when I tell you it’s not easy. My heart is still racing. I’ve had years of practice standing up to assholes in the industry and you haven’t. But I hope you can tell Mom how you feel—how you really feel—at some point.”

It was a nice thought. But most of all, I wanted her to see I was happy, and I wanted her to be happy, too.

Hopefully, there would be something for both of us.