Return of the worthless omega

(Rachael’s POV)

The stench of crushed lavender and heavy musk made my throat burn, but I didn’t dare cough. To choke in the presence of the Lycan royalty was to invite a whip across the shoulders or worse, maybe even a week in the damp, subterranean punishment cells of Hilton Tower.

I stood near the back of the grand hall, my fingers clutching the faded hem of my mother’s old cotton dress. It was three sizes too large, the pale cream fabric worn thin at the elbows, but it was the only piece of her I had left.

"Look at her," a sharp voice hissed from my left.

I didn't need to turn my head to know it was Taria. She glided past me, her body wrapped in a dark silk gown that hugged every curve, her dark hair pinned back with pins made of polished bone.

"Dressing like a servant at the Mating Ceremony, Rachael?" Taria sneered, leaning in close enough for her scent, sour plum and arrogance, to sting my nose. "Then again, I suppose an Omega with no wolf shouldn't waste good silk. You’re only here to pad the numbers so the King can claim his pack is 'united.'"

I kept my eyes fixed on the cold marble floor, swallowing the lump of pride in my throat. Stay invisible. Just survive until the moon reaches its peak.

"Let her be, Taria," a quieter maid murmured nearby, though her eyes held pity rather than true defense.

"Why should I?" Taria laughed, a low, melodic sound meant to carry to the guards standing along the perimeter. "She’s a muted disgrace. If her own wolf won't speak to her, why should any male?"

Before I could sink further into the shadows, the deep, resonant ring of the silver gong echoed through the hall.

The low chatter of hundreds of wolves died instantly. The heavy oak doors at the top of the dais groaned open, and Crown Prince Vinca stepped into the light.

A collective shift in the air rippled through the room. Vinca was built like the ancient war-alphas, broad-shouldered, towering, and radiating a cold, suffocating pressure that forced every wolf to bow their heads. His sharp jawline was set in an unreadable mask, his icy grey eyes sweeping over the rows of waiting females with absolute indifference.

This was the Mating Ceremony. An ancient ritual where the Crown Alpha walked the line of unbonded females, waiting for the ancestral spark of the mate-bond to ignite.

Taria immediately smoothed her silk dress, puffing out her chest as Vinca began his slow descent down the stairs. I watched from beneath my lashes as he passed the high-ranking beta females, barely casting them a glance.

When he reached Taria, she held her breath, her chest practically glowing with anticipation. Vinca paused for a fraction of a second. His eyes swept over her silk gown, but his expression didn't change. There was no flare of scent, no sudden widening of his pupils. No bond.

Taria’s smile faltered, her hands clenching into tight fists as he took another step forward, completely dismissing her.

My heart began to hammer against my ribs. He’s coming toward the back row.

He wasn't supposed to come down here. The Omegas and domestic staff were kept at the rear purely for tradition and technicality. But Vinca kept walking, his heavy leather boots thudding against the marble until he stopped directly in front of me.

Shadows fell over my vision as his towering frame blocked out the chandelier light.

"Look at me, Omega," Vinca commanded. His voice was like a grinding stone.

I slowly lifted my chin, forcing my trembling gaze to meet his.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, Vinca’s brows pulled together into a harsh line. His nostrils flared as he leaned closer, taking a deep, aggressive breath of the air around my collarbone.

A sharp, repulsive energy suddenly flared between us, not the warmth of a mate-bond, but a jarring, unnatural repulsion that made my stomach turn. Vinca recoiled slightly, his hand dropping to the hilt of the silver dagger at his belt, his eyes flashing with sudden, dangerous suspicion.

"What is wrong with your scent?" he growled, stepping closer to grab my jaw. "What are you hiding…"

WAAAAAIL!

An ear-splitting siren shattered the hall, cutting Vinca off mid-sentence. Red emergency runes blazed to life along the stone walls, casting the entire room in a blood-colored light.

Panic erupted instantly. Screams echoed as females scrambled toward the exits and guards drew their broadswords.

"Invasion!" a guard screamed from the upper balcony, his voice cracking with terror. "The northern border wards are down! It’s the Silver Pack! Alpha Bastian is inside the gates!"

Vinca released my jaw, his dark gaze tearing away from me toward the shattered stained-glass windows above.

"Secure the royal family!" Vinca roared, his wolf rising to the surface as long claws extended from his fingertips. "Kill any intruder who crosses the threshold!"

While the crowd surged forward in chaotic waves, pushing and trampling over one another to reach the main hall, I fell back against the cold stone wall, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The Silver Pack with its ruthless war-alpha had just breached our fortress but a sickening wave of relief washed over me. The sirens had saved me from whatever horrific answer Vinca was looking for. But as the crowd surged toward the exits in absolute panic, a chilling thought gripped my chest.

What did Vinca smell on me?