"Katherine might suit you. She seems shy, but really she just isn't that interested in people. But she's very smart, and she thinks Gamesby is a twat." Mairwen blushed, possibly at her own language, but stared eagerly up at me. Her eyes were a comforting, warm shade, almost golden, brighter than the drowsy brown of her hair.

She was recommending me alternatives. This odd omega they called Mouse, who'd never been properly introduced to me and had never spoken a word to anyone when I'd been present, was offering her opinion on whom I might choose instead. And she hadn't started with herself, bold as her words were.

Damnit. Niall was right. She was the most interesting one of the lot. Strange and mostly plain, but also lush and a bit direct, without a proper omega's perfume.

"Where did you come from?" I asked, not entirely sure of the exact meaning I intended.

She blushed and glanced down at the book in her hand. "I was wandering. Reading."

"Not at home."

"Not at home," she agreed with a frank nod.

We stared at one another, and I understood. Tomorrow was the selection ceremony. She was promised to Gryffyd Evans. And for five selections running, the betas of the isle had thwarted my choices by scent marking the omegas shortly before.

I refused the immediate image brought to mind, of Mr. Evans trying to seduce and defile this young woman in pursuit of his own cause. She was still clean—barely even her own perfume hovered, and there was no greasy mark of his on her. But I didn't put it past Gryffyd Evans to take the chance for sex with a young omega before the selection if he thought he could get away with it. He was as notorious with the women he chose as my own father.

"I can't wander all day," she said, a dismal forced smile on her broad lips. I was about to encourage her to do just that when she turned on her heel and took the lead, continuing, "Sophia might suit you too. She's impossible to discourage. The most stubbornly cheerful creature you're ever likely to meet."

Mairwen Posy seemed to be about to wander right off now, without a curtsy or demure "my lord" or even a goodbye. I would see her tomorrow at the selection, an event whose outcome I was suddenly uncertain of. All I knew was that Adelaide wouldn't do. I didn't like her enough to try and persuade her not to kill me.

"I'd better walk you back," I said. "Clearly, I need your insight."

Mairwen hummed in agreement and then stopped, staring at me in horror. "But you can't walk me all the way to the house. If my mother saw you, she'd get all sorts of mad ideas. I know it's less than a day, but even in that amount of time she could—" She stopped herself abruptly, lips pressing flat, and shook her head, marching forward like a soldier. "Absurd," she muttered.

Mairwen's mother might see me at her daughter's side the day before the selection, might even catch a whiff of me on her after I'd manhandled her. Her mother might think I was preparing to choose Mairwen. The alpha choosing the tall, awkward, inappropriate, not clearly pretty, scentless omega.

Unlikely. Absurd, as Mairwen had said.

My lips twitched again.

"Francesca would not suit. She's very weepy and incredibly biddable. Someone like Gamesby would only have to suggest she open a door, and then the pair of you would end up playing a tug of war on her poor mind," Mairwen declared, a defense for Francesca more than a warning for my own sake.

It was a shame she was walking ahead of me. So few people ever saw me smile.

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter ThreeMAIRWEN

Iturned my head to the side, dipping my nose down to my shoulder, trying to catch another whiff of that harsh, oaky scent of the alpha. I'd bathed as soon as I got home, scrubbed myself clean and changed my dress, but I could still feel the pressure of his arm around my waist, and it seemed impossible that some evidence shouldn't still remain.

I reached for my glass, fingers pausing around the stem. Across from me at the table, Mr. Evans watched with me a faint smirk. He'd provided the wine for the evening, and it had an unpleasant aftertaste, like licorice, which was starting to turn my stomach. Or the thought of what was to come was responsible. Probably both.

I didn't see why Mr. Evans should bother to keep with the recent tradition of bedding his intended the night before the selection. He could hardly be afraid of losing me to the alpha.

Even with Adelaide Brys's recent foray into treason.

I pressed my lips firmly to the wine glass as I sipped, and some of the gassy-flavored liquid slipped in. I had a secret, and it was bursting behind my tongue, begging to be told. But what if Mr. Evans was aware of the plot, an ally to Hugh Gamesby? What if my father was?

I'd heard my father refer to our former alpha, Lord Cadogan's father, as ungentlemanly. I also knew he lacked confidence in the son, but I'd never heard him speak so ill as to suggest he might want our alpha dead.

"The wine was aged in my cellars," Mr. Evans—surely I couldn't keep calling him Mister—said, watching me take another false sip. "It is my table's signature. I rarely prefer anything else."

His smile was beatific. He'd just offered me a tidbit of knowledge of his tastes, one I would find useful—or be expected to remember—when my father handed my life over to him tomorrow afternoon.

Tomorrow. A month ago—the moment before Lord Cadogan stormed into our company—the inevitable still managed to feel quite distant, a far-off point on the horizon I might never manage to reach. Now the day was tomorrow, a massive wall in front of me I could find no way around or over.

My family's dining room was warm, well-heated by two small fireplaces on either end, but I felt as though I were falling backwards into a cool grave. My days were numbered now. Mr. Evans's omegas rarely lasted more than one ten-year term. If I'd been born a few months earlier, had been chosen by Mr. Evans in the last rut selection ceremony, I would already be dead by now.

As a woman walking into her grave, I decided I ought to be able to have a few last words.

"It reminds me of that candy I used to hate so much as a child," I said brightly, smiling back at Mr. Evans.

"Mairwen!" My mother's cry was sudden and wounded, as if it was her I'd insulted and not our guest.

My father let out an awkward laugh. "Aren't we lucky, then, that our tastes mature as we age?"

I went ahead and made a dubious expression, Mr. Evans glaring at me as he helped himself to his own sip of wine.

"I didn't realize you could be so outspoken, dear one," Mr. Evans said. "I do enjoy an omega who is unafraid to contradict her superiors. The opportunity to provide instruction for their betterment is quite satisfying."

It would be difficult to resist the urge to fight this man, but if he looked forward to it, I was better off denying him one.

"It must be the wine," I murmured. I looked down to my plate and frowned to find all the food already gone.

"Perhaps we'd better see that you get a little fresh air, dear one," Mr. Evans said.

"Oh yes, the gardens are lovely this time of day," my mother hurried to say.

"You mean in the dark?" I asked my mother, a little too loudly.

"They're serene," she bit out.

I huffed and sat back in my seat, glancing at my father and finding the worst kind of condemnation on his face. Worry and pleading, so much more potent than anger. I was twenty-six years old. He could hardly refuse Mr. Evans and let me wait another ten years for the next selection. And there'd been money exchanged for me already, I was sure of it.