To ruin an Omega

Chapter 86: Suga Talking

HAZEL

I sat at my vanity in my babygirl pyjamas, the loose fabric hanging off one shoulder while I tried to coax my hair into something presentable. The strands kept slipping through my fingers. I huffed and started over, gathering the sections again.

The door opened without warning. Mother swept in with that particular grace she always carried, like she was floating rather than walking. She came up behind me and took the brush from my hand.

“Let me help you with that.”

Her fingers worked through my hair with practiced ease. I watched her face in the mirror. She had that look. The one that meant she was about to disappoint me.

“I apologize,” she said, her voice soft. “I will not be able to go shopping with you tomorrow.”

I waited. There was always more.

“Your father has business and I have to be in his arms.”

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. The gesture felt automatic. Rehearsed.

“You understand, right?”

“I do.”

Of course I understood. I always understood. That was what good daughters did. They understood when their mothers chose their fathers over them. They understood when plans changed. They understood everything except why it still stung.

Mother set down the brush. “You can postpone. So we can go together another time.”

“No.” The word came out firmer than I intended. “I will not be postponing.”

She didn’t look surprised. She knew me better than that.

“I can go alone,” I added.

“I thought so.” Mother smiled that knowing smile of hers. “So I asked your father to give you a sentinel he trusted. Someone to keep you safe.”

I laughed. The sound bounced off the walls of my room. “When am I ever in danger?”

“Well, your father believes you are very fragile at the moment.”

Fragile. The word tasted sweet on my tongue. I could work with fragile.

Mother brushed the last few strands into place and rested her hands on my shoulders. Then her expression shifted. A shadow of something older and sharper slid across her eyes.

“And Hazel,” she said quietly. “Do not get cozy with this one. I do not want another Milo situation.”

I froze. She rarely brought Milo up. It was usually the unspoken thing between us, the thing neither of us acknowledged because acknowledging it made it too real.

She continued. “Your father trusts this sentinel. I trust him too. Do not make things complicated. Do not tease him into doing something foolish.”

I stared at her reflection. “Mother, not everybody has an incredible cock.”

Her lips parted in a small gasp. She swatted my shoulder lightly. “Hazel. Do not speak that way.”

“You opened the door for it.”

“I did not.” She tried to glare but she was holding back a smile. “Behave yourself. I mean it. I cannot mediate between you and your father again.”

I smiled sweetly. “I will be good.”

“No, you will be yourself. You never have changed for any reason, which is exactly why I am saying this.” She tapped my cheek with two fingers. “Do not make trouble where none is needed.”

She pressed one last kiss to my head. “Just stay fragile. Relish and lean into that,” she said. She touched my shoulder once more, a brief pressure, then headed for the door.

I chuckled. “You know me, Mother. If it makes my life easier, I will.”

“I will go now.”

I nodded and she left, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The room felt larger without her in it. I picked up the bottle of hair oil and poured some into my palm. The scent of argan and vanilla filled my nose. I worked it through my hair, massaging it into my scalp with slow, deliberate movements. The oil made my fingers slick.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened. I kept my attention on my reflection, watching through the mirror as a figure stepped into the doorway. He froze. Then he spun around so fast I heard his boots scrape against the floor.

“I apologize, Luna Hazel. I had no idea you were in a state of undress.”

I chuckled and stood up from the vanity. My pyjamas were perfectly modest, really. The loose fabric covered everything it needed to cover. But I suppose to someone easily flustered, the casual intimacy of sleepwear might seem scandalous.

I walked toward him, my bare feet silent on the floor. “Who are you?”

He kept his back to me. His shoulders were tense beneath his uniform. “I got into the ranks of sentinel recently so you might not have seen my face.”

Fresh meat. Even better.

“Your father put me in charge of protecting you tomorrow when you go shopping.”

I circled around to look at him properly. He was younger than I expected. His face had that clean, unmarked quality of someone who hadn’t seen real trouble yet. His jaw was sharp but his eyes were soft. Too soft.

“You don’t look that big or strong.”

His expression flickered. Hurt, maybe. Or embarrassment. “I apologize.”

“At least you should be able to take a good beating.”

“Oh.”

The single syllable came out uncertain. Confused. I tilted my head and studied him. He was still avoiding eye contact, his gaze fixed somewhere over my shoulder.

“You should keep your eyes trained on me, you know. If you are going to protect me.”

He hesitated. I could see the war happening behind his eyes. Duty versus propriety. Training versus whatever his mother had taught him about respecting young women. Finally, slowly, his gaze lowered to meet mine.

The moment our eyes locked, I saw it. That naive quality bleeding out of him like watercolor on wet paper. He was innocent. Genuinely, painfully innocent. The kind of person who still believed in honor, righteousness and doing the right thing.

How delicious.

“You are easy on the eye,” I said.

His cheeks flushed red. The color spread from his face down his neck, disappearing beneath his collar. I wondered how far down it went. I wondered what else was flush with blood.

“Thank you,” he managed.

Such good manners. Someone had raised him well. I took a step closer. He didn’t move. Good boy. Another step. The space between us shrank. I could see the pulse jumping in his throat now.

“Take care of me, will you?”

I closed the remaining distance. Just an inch separated us. Maybe less. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. He smelled like soap and leather and something earthy I couldn’t quite place. His breath hitched.

He started to take a step back, his body’s instinct overriding whatever his training told him about holding his ground. But he was too slow. I was already there, invading his space, my face tilted up toward his.

“And you’re not going to try to rape me, are you?”

The word hit him like a physical blow. His eyes went wide. “What?”

He stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet. The careful composure shattered completely. “No. No, I would never…”

“You must have heard what I faced.”

His expression changed. Understanding dawned there, mixed with something that might have been pity or horror or both. “I did not.”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

He swallowed hard. I watched his throat work. “I’m not lying. I did not hear anything like that and I would never do something like that. I’m here to protect you, Luna Hazel. That’s all.”

The earnestness in his voice was almost endearing. Almost. I let the silence stretch between us. Let him squirm in it. His hands were clenched at his sides. His breathing had quickened.

I thought about Milo. The one who had gotten too comfortable. Too confident. Who thought that being alone with me and taking me multiple times meant he could take liberties and try to betray me. Of course, he had learned very painfully that I was not the fragile little Luna everyone believed me to be.

“I really liked him, you know.”

The new sentinel’s face paled. He understood who I meant.

“But he took it too far.”

I let those words hang in the air. Let them settle into whatever dark corners of imagination he possessed. Let him wonder exactly what “too far” meant. Let him wonder what happened to men who crossed me.

Then I smiled. Wide and warm and completely unthreatening. The kind of smile that said we were friends. That said everything was fine. That said he had nothing to worry about as long as he behaved himself.

“Take care of me tomorrow.”

I reached out and adjusted his collar, my fingers brushing against his neck. He flinched but didn’t pull away. The pulse under my fingertips was racing.

“I can tell you and I will be… very close.”

He nodded. The movement was jerky. Mechanical. He was operating on pure instinct now, his training the only thing keeping him upright and functional.

“Yes, Luna Hazel.”

Such a good boy. So obedient. So determined to do the right thing. I wondered how long that would last. I wondered what it would take to crack that shell of righteousness. Everyone had a breaking point. Everyone had buttons that could be pushed and the goddess had to know how much I liked pushing buttons.

I stepped back, giving him space to breathe. He took it gratefully, his chest expanding as he sucked in air. I had been standing closer than I thought.

“You can go now.”

He nodded again. Turned toward the door. His movements were stiff and awkward, like he had forgotten how his limbs worked. His hand found the doorknob and he pulled it open.

I watched him leave. Watched the way his shoulders stayed tense until he was through the threshold. Watched the way he didn’t look back. The door closed behind him with a soft thud.

I stood there for a moment in the sudden stillness of my room. My heart was beating faster than normal. There was a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the temperature.

Tomorrow was going to be interesting.

I walked back to my vanity and sat down. My hair was still damp with oil. I picked up the brush and continued where Mother had left off, working through the tangles with slow, methodical strokes.

In the mirror, my reflection smiled back at me. I looked innocent. Harmless. Fragile, even.

Father was right to worry about me. Just not for the reasons he thought.

I was fragile the way glass was fragile. Beautiful and delicate until you tried to grasp it too hard. Then it shattered and cut you to ribbons.

The new sentinel was interesting. I wanted to know the depths of his person and I hoped he wouldn’t be the type to fight or resist me. Because he would learn soon enough. They always did.