Page 53 of Vicious Kings
The door slams behind me with enough force to rattle the ridiculous crystal knobs, and I want to punch something.
Preferably Prince Caelyx's stupidly perfect face for having the audacity to skip class today when I spent all night steeling myself for seeing him again.
Apparently being royalty means you can just fuck off whenever you feel like it, leaving the rest of us mortals to suffer through lectures on "The Proper Way to Accept Courtship Gifts" and "Omega Postures: Submission as an Art Form."
My shoulder throbs where I slammed it into a doorframe trying to dodge Brittany and her posse in the hallway. The bruise from the stair incident has bloomed into a spectacular purple-green masterpiece across my hip. But at least I survived another day without accidentally murdering anyone or blowing my cover.
It's the little things that count.
Olivia sits at her vanity, surrounded by enough beauty products to stock a small boutique. She's got three different textbooks open, somehow managing to take notes while applying what looks like her fifteenth coat of mascara. Theefficiency would be impressive if it wasn't so fucking over the top.
Honestly, it's still kind of impressive.
"Do you mind?" she snaps without looking up. "Some of us actually care about our grades."
I drop my bag on my bed with more force than necessary. "Didn't say anything, Princess."
"Your breathing is distracting."
"Sorry my continued existence offends you." I pull out my own textbooks, trying not to think about how behind I already am. Turns out twenty years of hunter training doesn't prepare you for writing essays on pheromones. Who fucking knew?
The invitation Tallon gave me is still taking up residence in my bag and the foremost of my thoughts. I've been turning it over in my mind all day, weighing the risks against the potential rewards.
Going alone would be suspicious. Omegas travel in packs as much as shifters do, always surrounded by their little cliques and hierarchies.
A lone omega at a party thrown by theGolden Triad? Might as well paint a target on my back.
What I need is a human shield.
I glance at Olivia, who's now moved on to contouring her already perfect cheekbones with a brush that looks like a fan. She hates me, but she hates me less than most of the other omegas on campus. And she's exactly the type who'd jump at the chance to get close to the Triad.
"You doing anything tonight?" I ask, aiming for casual.
She freezes mid-brushstroke. "Why do you care?"
"Just wondering." I pull out the black envelope, turning it over in my hands. "Thought you might want to go to a party."
"There are no parties tonight." She finally deigns to look at me, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "I would know. I know about every event on this campus."
"Apparently not this one."
The temperature in the room drops about ten degrees. Olivia swivels on her ridiculous pink tufted stool, giving me her full attention for the first time since we became roommates. "What party?"
I shrug. "Just some thing Tallon invited me to."
The mascara wand clatters to the floor.
"Tallon?" Her voice goes up an octave. "As in Tallon Fairfax?"
"I think so?" I hold up my hand, counting off on my fingers. "Tall, pretty guy with green eyes and sandy brown hair? Shoulders you could use as a landing strip?"
"You're lying." But her eyes are locked on the envelope in my hands like it's made of solid gold.
"Check for yourself if you don't believe me." I toss the invitation onto her vanity, watching as she picks it up with trembling fingers.
The seal on the envelope starts to glow the moment she touches it, golden light pulsing. Olivia's face goes through about twenty different emotions in the span of three seconds.
"That's..." She swallows hard. "That's the prince's personal seal."
