Page 9 of The Duke’s Christmas Rejection

“I didn’t ask you for money. Did I?” Norhaven’s voice deepens, taking on an almost musical quality.

Despite myself, I find my body swaying toward him, wanting just one more illicit touch, something to ease the ache that’s building. I have no earthly idea what’s happening to me, but something deep down tells me that he can fix it. He’s the one that can make all of this better.

Is it, perhaps, some odd side effect of guilt? Should I take the penance he’s offering and be done with it? Knowing Norhaven, he would find a way to keep it from descending beyond the pale.

“I- I realize that I have many faults, Your Grace. I am not blind to my own failings. I’m also very much aware that I can be, at times, inappropriate—still playing and taking no heed of where I’m going or who I’m to inconvenience with my actions. If you think taking me in hand will help curb these tendencies, turning me into a better, more refined woman, someone worthy of you. Then please, Your Grace.” I curtsy as elegantly as I know how. “Punish me.”

Time stands still as he stares at me. I feel his eyes burning into the top of my head, yet still, I never falter. If this is the price I must pay, then I have to swallow my pride and the discomfort of prostrating myself before him.

Norhaven’s fingers slide under my chin, urging me up. This time, there’s no mistaking the dark orbs that are now his eyes. There is hardly any trace of the crystalline blue that normally sears me to my core. I’ve never seen him like this, so animalistic.

“You would offer yourself to me for punishment? Willingly?”

“If that is what you wish, Your Grace.”

He drops his hand as if he were burnt. For a moment, they twitch by his side, as if to reach out and touch me again, and though I anticipate it, long for it even, it never happens. Instead, he keeps them by his side and steps back.

In that instant, the moment between us, the heat that rooted me to the spot is gone, leaving an icy, cold chasm. “You are the daughter of a baron,” he continues after a few agonizing moments, his gaze tipping up so that he’s no longer looking at me but over me. “It is foolish for you to think that I could harbor an interest in someone of your station. I danced with you, for the sake of tradition, but do not mistake my friendship or the familiarity you have with my family to cloud your vision.”

Shock floods my system until I can no longer understand his words. “But Your Gra-”

“For your sake, I request that you do not pursue me.”

Without allowing me to respond, he turns on his heel and storms away. I stand there, my world shattering as the reality comes barreling through. It matters not that he and I are supposed to be King and Queen of Twelfth Night; I have earned the rank of a fool. However, knowing this and accepting it are two vastly different things.

Patting my cheeks, I will the tears to stay at bay. As much as I wish to, I cannot permit myself to fall apart in front of all these people. Instead, I hold my head high and walk back into the fray, focusing on the merriment around me instead of my heart cracking in two.

Before I can slink off and lick my wounds, however, another Alpha approaches and bows before me. Redleigh smiles for a moment, erasing any hellacious expression on his face. Even with the scar, the smile alone makes him so much more approachable. Though, it is soon gone, replaced once more with a scowl.

“Might I be allowed a dance with such a fine queen?”

I glance over at Norhaven, skulking about in the crowd, needing to see his response to this request. He says nothing, yet glowers at us, as if we’re going against some unsaid wish. But he didn’t want me. He made it clear that I was nothing to him. Why deny me a chance to salvage this night?

Tears burn in my eyes as I sink into a curtsy. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

Soon, faint music fills the room as the others join in a country dance. I apply myself to the steps, forcing my brain off of the humiliation I endured at Norhaven’s hands and onto showing my host that I am capable of being agreeable. But soon, I know I’ll excuse myself and race away to the library to cry in secret, hiding my shame.

Chapter 6

Charles

A growl hums in my throat as I watch Redleigh touch hands with Miss Cynthia. Nothing he does is improper; however, that doesn’t stop me from wanting to storm onto the ballroom floor and thrash him in front of the others. It’s a feral jealousy that has no place here.

What has happened to me? Why do I feel this burning need to stake my claim, forcing her to remain by my side for all eternity? It must be her scent. That’s the only thing I can blame at the moment. Though, if I’m being honest, the curvaceous flow of her body is nothing to sneer at.

Somehow, she went from a wilting flower to a rose in her own right. The wonders of an omega’s body and how it blossoms as they come of age never cease to amaze me. But this time, I can’t stand by and admire it. To do so would force me to lose my sanity.

Turning from the joyous celebration before me, I pause to glance over at Miss Cynthia one final time. The look on her face, the sheer pain and remorse, gut me like a knife. Though she does not shed a tear, her eyes shine brightly in the candlelight. Too brightly.

Luckily for both of us, it seems as if no one else is noticing, concentrating more on the festivities than the omega that manages to appear alone in a crowd of people. Seeing her there, withering before my very eyes… It’s almost too much to bear.

My gaze turns and lands on Lewis, watching his easy smile, the carefree way he’s winding in and out from between the dancing partners, laughing as if everything is how it should be. Never once will he realize how his actions impact others. The words he says, the pronouncements he makes. I was happy before he reminded me of just what my duty was, and now that I know, I can no longer play blind and dumb.

Despite the moment she and I shared, I cannot, will not entertain the idea of defiling so delicate a flower. She offered herself up for punishment, not knowing the type of monster I can be, not understanding the depraved need that slithers through my veins. I certainly will not speak of it, and I know Miss Cynthia never will either.

Perhaps it’s better this way. Deep down, I’ve always known that she wasn’t the one for me. If such a simple rebuff sends her into near tears, she could never handle my degrading tongue, my need for exacting dominance. No. As pretty as Miss Cynthia is, as much as I desire to devour her—body and soul—she will never be the one to complete me.

For now, I just need to find someone who can handle me. All of me. Vine and Thornes is out due to the weather, so I’ll have to make do with someone tried and true, someone that I know can get me where I need to go. Melissa should do nicely.