46

brYLEE

The ballroom has been completely transformed. It always looks amazing during one of these events, but I swear they went all out tonight.

Only the best for the heroic crown prince.

The room is bathed in soft, golden light that casts an inviting glow across the floor. Tall crystal chandeliers hang from the high vaulted ceiling, their gleaming crystals catching the light and scattering it in every direction. The polished marble floors reflect the movement of the guests, their elegant gowns and sharp suits gliding effortlessly across the space. The walls are adorned with delicate tapestries and gilded mirrors. Velvet curtains frame the tall windows, which open to a view of a beautifully manicured garden outside, shrouded in moonlight.

When I enter and descend the grand staircase, every head swivels in my direction. Whispers ripple through the crowd, and more than a few omegas titter and point at me.

A flush crawls up my neck and settles in my cheeks, which suddenly heat a million degrees.

“This is horrible,” I hiss under my breath. I don’t know if I’m speaking to Colter, who stands to the right of me, or Sam on my other side.

Both men snort.

“I thought you were used to things like this,” Sam says with a chuckle. “You know, being the center of attention and all that.”

“This is different,” I retort as I begin to descend the staircase. At first, I move gracefully, practically gliding down the carpeted stairs, before realizing that I’m Teddie, not Brylee.

Walk manly, Brylee. Walk manly.

I try to emulate Colter—swinging my arms in time with my hips—but I probably just look stupid or like I’m seizing. I’m just grateful I don’t trip over my own two feet and face-plant on the ground.

There’s a brief touch on the small of my back—Colter—and I take comfort in his presence, in his support. I know he won’t let me fall.

Almost as soon as my feet touch the floor, the vultures descend.

Because this is a ball, the normal social rules about omegas keeping their eyes down and waiting for alphas to approach are relaxed. “Ball” is actually just a euphemism for mate market. And these women are out shopping with the kind of ferocity usually reserved for Black Friday.

“Teddie, hi! I don’t know if you remember me, but we met a few years back.” An omega I belatedly recognize from one of my classes sidles up beside me, twirling a strand of white-blonde hair around her finger. “Tiffany, remember?”

I clear my throat and work to lower my voice an octave. “Err…yes. Hello.”

“Teddie, you look so handsome,” Elena Parker coos, all but shoving Colter out of the way to stand beside me. She places a manicured hand on my arm and begins to caress it the way you would a dog. “Have you been working out?”

“Errr…”

“Can I get you anything to drink, Your Highness?” Another omega stands in front of me, her breasts practically spilling out of her dress in a way I know is intentional. We literally have an entire class on how to dress to entice alphas. She bites down on her lower lip and begins to absently trace the pendant dangling between her cleavage. Again, another intentional move, designed to draw the eye.

I desperately turn toward Colter with wide eyes, resisting the urge to mouth, “Help me.”

The bastard simply smirks and folds his arms over his chest.

There’ll be no help from him.

More and more omegas brush against me, and I begin to feel overwhelmed. A cold sweat gathers on the base of my neck.

“All right! Back away from my man, girls.” Harper’s voice precedes the woman herself pushing through the crowd and moving to stand beside me. She immediately wraps her hands around my arm, her grip both possessive and protective.

“ Your man?” Elena places a hand on her hip and gives Harper a dismissive once-over.

Harper straightens nearly imperceptibly and casts the other omega a flinty glare. “Yes, my man. Is there a problem?”

“I think they’re just jealous, babe,” I say, playing along. I shift our positions slightly so I’m able to wrap an arm around her waist. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

She does. That’s probably the first honest thing I’ve said since I arrived.

Her brown hair has been artfully styled in a chignon at the base of her neck, a few loose curls escaping to frame her face. Her makeup is artfully done and looks striking against the deep red of her dress, which cascades around her legs like a river of blood.

“And you look…” Harper turns slightly to look me over, and I see her bite her lip—no doubt to hide her laugh. This is the first time she’s seen me in my Teddie disguise, and I can tell she’s trying her damnedest not to lose it. “Sexy.”

“Sexy?”

“Totally sexy.” She winks playfully before turning toward the other omegas. “Now, shoo. I’m barely able to see my man as it is.” She purses her lips in a dramatic pout and turns toward me. “Baby boo, you never make time for me. I know people always say you can’t tame a stallion, but…”

“Mustangs like me must roam free,” I deadpan, and behind me, Colter chokes on a laugh.

Harper expertly guides me away from the hovering omegas and toward the buffet table, where a collection of finger foods sit.

Colter sidles up beside me, grabs a tiny plate, and begins to fill it with every food imaginable—tiny sandwiches, meatballs, cheese and crackers, and what appears to be pepperoni but is probably some fancy meat I don’t know the name of.

He hands it to me with a grunt, a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

“Thank you,” I whisper, cheeks burning, keenly aware that I have numerous eyes on me and that I’m disguised as Teddie currently, not Brylee. It definitely would not be a good idea to lean over and kiss him.

“Ahhh.” Harper glances between the two of us with a conspiratorial smirk, understanding alighting in her eyes. “So he’s one of them, isn’t he?”

My blush deepens, especially when her smile turns devious. She turns completely toward Colter and gives him an assessing once-over. After a moment, she faces me once more and nods. “I approve.”

“Shut up,” I murmur, ducking my head.

“Errr… What are you guys talking about?” Sam pipes in. I almost forgot the beta was with us.

“Nothing,” Harper and I reply simultaneously. Sam already knows the secret of my identity. I’m not ready to share the truth about my scent matches. I like Sam—even trust him, to some extent—but I’ve barely wrapped my head around all of this myself. I don’t need yet another person offering their opinions on my ill-defined love life.

“So…” Harper rocks on her heels. “Are you excited to be honored? Are you going to get a medal? A trophy?”

Colter chuckles as I stare at my friend incredulously. “A trophy?”

“What?” Harper blinks. “Isn’t that something they hand out to people?”

“I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as war trophies,” I say, then turn toward Colter, one brow quirked. “Right?”

He smirks and shrugs, not responding.

Dick.

“Well, either way, I’ll be in the front row, cheering your name,” Harper says seriously.

“There are no rows,” Sam points out.

Harper gives Sam a curious inspection. “I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Harper, Brylee’s roommate.” She extends a hand.

Sam blushes all the way to the tips of his ears and awkwardly takes her hand in his, holding it the way you would a wet, disgusting fish. “Ohhh. Brylee’s roommate.” He glances over at me with raised brows, silently asking if Harper knows what he knows. At my nod, he continues, “Hi! Um…I’m Sam. Brylee’s other…umm…roommate. Or Teddie’s, technically. Oh wow. Your eyes are really…colorful. They’re, like, a bright color.”

Oh god.

I have to stop myself from facepalming.

“Thank you.” Harper’s smile broadens. “I like having colorful eyes.”

Sam seems relieved, his shoulders physically sagging. He still doesn’t release her hand.

“And you have a cute…nose,” he blurts.

“I know,” Harper says, finally managing to free her hand from his incessant hand shake.

I snort and shake my head.

It feels strange for them to meet, like my two different worlds are coming together, colliding in a way that feels irreversible and irrevocable.

“Ohhh…the headmaster is taking the stage.” Harper knocks my shoulder with hers. “I think your moment to shine is approaching.”

I swallow down the razor blade that has become lodged in my throat.

“Yay me.”

“Don’t be scared,” Colter rumbles, his lips dangerously close to my ear.

“I’m not scared,” I retort instantly.

“You look a little pale,” Sam oh-so-helpfully points out.

“And there’s sweat on your forehead. Righttttt there.” Harper wipes it away with her finger.

“And you’re shaking,” adds Sam.

“And you’re?—”

I shoo them away. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’m a hot mess.”

“You’ll be fine,” Harper assures me. “Just stand up there, accept your award, smile for the cameras, fend off the groping hands of omegas, and find us afterward.”

“I won’t leave your side,” Colter vows, and the rich tenor of his voice sends a thrill through me.

After I accept the award as Teddie, I can return to my dorm, change out of these clothes, and come back down as Brylee. Then maybe… Maybe I can dance with my scent matches. Just one song. Or two. Or three.

I haven’t seen any of them since I arrived, and I wonder if they’re searching the building for Brylee. The prospect of them looking for me makes heat flare in my stomach and cheeks.

Maybe more than three dances…

“Wait a minute.” Harper’s brow furrows, and she squints at something in the distance. Abruptly, her face drains of all color. “Oh shit.”

“What?”

I turn to follow the direction of her gaze, as does the rest of the crowd. Everyone goes utterly silent at once, like a giant candle being blown out. The ballroom becomes so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop.

There, standing at the top of the staircase to the ballroom, looking as regal and imperious as ever, are the king and queen.

My parents.

Oh…fuck.