CEDRIC POV
"That was almost painful to witness." I chuckled as soon as Eamon was close enough to hear.
Eamon shrugged, a carefree grin still plastered on his face. "I thought it best to introduce myself before the entire ton swarmed the man. Better to get in early, wouldn't you agree?"
"Get in early? I've never seen you strike out so badly before."
There was a certain satisfaction in saying it, even though it made no sense for me to care. I had no plans to court Keir, had no desire to bring another person into my life, and yet the thought of anyone else touching him, fawning over him, set my teeth on edge.
"The poor lad looked like he wanted to flee the moment you opened your mouth."
I felt the corners of my mouth twitch, the first genuine smile of the evening tugging at my lips unbidden. It surprised me how satisfying it was to see Eamon turned down.
I wanted—no, needed—Keir to stay beyond Eamon's grasp, to remain that unclaimed mystery.
Mine, a voice whispered in the back of my mind, fierce and possessive. The word jolted me, making me pause mid-thought. No. I didn't want Keir. I couldn't.
And yet, the feeling lingered, a low thrum beneath my skin, echoing with a need I refused to acknowledge.
Eamon's grin widened, unperturbed. "He's just playing hard to get."
I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Is that what you tell yourself whenever someone sees through your nonsense?"
"I'll have you know, most find my nonsense charming."
"They find your title and status charming. Your nonsense they tolerate."
Eamon crossed his arms, feigning indignation.
"And I tolerate you because occasionally you're useful, and the entertainment value of your escapades is at least mildly amusing."
"A lesser man might be offended, Cedric. But I know deep down that you love me." His eyes took on a mischievous glint, and he leaned in closer, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "As a matter of fact, I remember you saying just that when you cra—"
I cut him off sharply, the words leaving my mouth a little louder than intended. "I thought we agreed never to repeat that sordid memory from my past."
Eamon threw his head back and laughed, a rich, hearty sound that drew curious glances from nearby guests. "Oh, come now, Cedric! It's all in good fun. Besides, if I can't make fun of your drunken antics, what are we even friends for?"
I merely grunted in response, turning my gaze back to the room. The chatter of the ton seemed louder now, more persistent as if amplified by Eamon's raucous laughter.
Across the room, I caught sight of Keir again.
Lord Keir.
So poised, so guarded, with a wrinkle-faced woman clinging to his arm like she might drown without him.
She introduced him to another couple—an older alpha pair notorious within our circles. The man, Lord Harrow, was particularly well-known, not for his contributions to politics or business but for his penchant for dallying with young omegas.
His husband was a sweet recessive alpha from one of the oldest titled families in the country. But the husband had been sickly since birth, and it had gotten worse over the years.
People often whispered about his frailty with a mix of pity and cynical speculation; many believed his husband had married him only for the impending inheritance—a collection of estates that would make any nobleman envious.
As his guardian introduced Keir, Lord Harrow offered a weak smile, barely lifting his gaze to meet Keir's eyes, and his hand trembled as he accepted Keir's polite handshake.
The older Lord Harrow, on the other hand, his hand lingered just a bit too long on Keir's, his smile a tad too wide.
It was clear he played the part of the doting husband to the public, but his eyes roamed with an unsettling freedom that spoke of unhinged desires.
I watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of unease.
It was one thing to know of Lord Harrow's reputation, quite another to see it in action, especially directed towards Keir, who navigated the encounter with a poise that belied his relative youth and inexperience in such circles.
His responses were measured, his smile carefully neutral, yet there was a tenseness in his posture, a subtle rigidity that suggested he was all too aware of Lord Harrow's unsettling attention.
The interaction, though brief, felt like an eternity as I observed from across the room.
"Looks like Lord Harrow has also set his sights on Keir."
I had almost forgotten Eamon was beside me until his annoying voice echoed in my ear.
The idea of Harrow's predatory, grasping hands on Keir sent a cold fury washing over me.
I forced a tight smile, barely hiding my disdain. "Perhaps Keir has more sense than I initially credited him for. He rebuffed Lord Harrow with the same precision he used on you."
Eamon raised an eyebrow, "You won't have any more luck," he said, turning back to face me with a chuckle.
He took a sip from his glass, his gaze following Keir through the crowd, then continued, "I remember asking him several questions, but when I walked away—"
"You mean when he walked away, don't you?" I cut in, the earlier tension from watching Keir with Harrow loosening as Keir walked further away from the disgusting man.
"Well, yes, when he walked away, I realized I hadn't gotten a single answer from him."
"You were too busy admiring his looks. A pretty face always did mess with your focus."
"So you admit that he's pretty?"
"I would be foolish not to."
"Alright, old boy, let's see how many answers you can get. I'll bet a bottle of my finest brandy against one of yours."
Just as I was about to respond, a woman rushing past bumped into me, jarring my bad leg.
A sharp pain shot through it as she quickly muttered, "Sorry!" without glancing back.
I grimaced, reaching down to soothe the throbbing before straightening up with a sigh. "Isn't it a bit childish betting on something like this?"
Eamon's eyes flicked to my leg briefly, noting the pained expression I couldn't hide fast enough, but he chose to say nothing. Instead, he met my gaze directly, a challenging spark lighting his eyes. "So, you're not up for the challenge then?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth as I straightened to my full height. "I never said that," I replied, matching his challenge with a defiant lift of my chin. "You might want to start choosing which bottle you're going to hand over."
I scanned the room, my height giving me a clear advantage, and quickly spotted Lord Keir.
He was standing next to my father's old friend, Lady Harriet. Keir's dour-looking guardian had thankfully taken a seat across the room, out of the way.
I caught Lady Harriet's eye and tilted my head, signaling for an introduction.
She nodded—too eagerly, almost annoyingly so—and leaned in to whisper to Keir.
His back was to me, but I saw him give a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Minutes felt like hours as I waited for the heavyset woman blabbering off Lady Harriet and Keir's ears to finally stop.
Lady Harriet seized the moment to offer her goodbye as she ushered Keir in my direction.
The omega paused mid-step when he saw me, nostrils flaring as he took in my scent.
His eyes widened just a fraction, a mix of curiosity and something else—fear, maybe?—flickering across his face.
Why would I frighten him?
The air between us crackled, thick with something I couldn't name but could feel deep in my bones.
He felt it, too.
I could see it in how his breath hitched, just barely, but enough for me to notice, enough to know that I wasn't the only one feeling this intense attraction.
With each step he took closer, my pulse hammered faster, anticipation winding tight in my gut.
A knot of tension that felt like it might snap at any moment.
My hands ached with the urge, the need to reach out, to feel his skin under mine, to pull him in and claim him right then and there.
Comments (0)
See all