I slowly slide down the wall to the floor, pressing my head to my knees as the tearse. He can call it whatever he wants, put a pretty little bow on it like he’s doing the noble thing, but in the end, he rejected <ol><li>me. </li></ol>


    I hear Christian and Shane walk past the bathroom, talking about whatever they are going to do today. I hold my breath, willing him to not hear me. I mp the walls of my mind down, refusing to allow him to feel or see me like this; not when it’s about him.


    When I finally feel more like myself, I stand and go to the sink to wash my face. When I look in the mirror, I barely recognize the woman looking back at me. My hair is a mess, my lips are swollen from his kisses, and my eyes are bright, too bright, like I’m running a fever, or have just experienced the most mind–blowing kiss of my life.


    I ssh cold water on my face then run my fingers through my hair, trying to put it back into ce. I finally give up and after taking a deep breath, I step out of the bathroom. Breakfast is over and nearly everyone has left the dining hall.


    I walk to the kitchen and see the omegas cleaning up.


    “Hi, Alpha. Did you miss breakfast?” Jolie asks me.


    “I did, Jolie. Is there anything left?” I ask.


    “I saved you a te,” she says.


    “You did?” I ask.


    “We saw that woman verbally attacking you, Alpha. And we saw


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    Alpha Christian defend you and send her to the cells. We thought maybe he was getting on to you about nearly attacking her and when you didn’t return to breakfast, we figured we were right. Now, seeing the tear stains on your face, we know we were right. So, it’s a good thing we’ve got you covered, Alpha,” another omega, Ellen, says to me, handing me a te of food.


    “Youdies are the best,” I say, ignoring thements about my tear- stained face. They don’t need to know the real reason for my tears, but they couldn’t be farther from the truth.


    While I eat, I take the time to ask them about their lives, what’s going on with them, and then if there is anything I need to focus on for the kitchens.


    “We heard a rumor that Alpha Christian’s family wasing this weekend. Is that true?”


    “Yes, his parents and his teenage sister will be arriving on Friday afternoon. I’m not sure how long they’re staying but at least through the weekend,” I say.


    “Do you know what they like to eat? We want them to feel at home here,” Jolie says.


    “Let me ask Christian,” I say, opening the mind link. His connection to me is so quick that I get a mental image of opening a door and having him fall in, like he was leaning against the door just waiting for me to


    it for him. open


    ‘Enya …‘ he begins, but I cut him off.


    ‘Is there anything in particr we should prepare for your family while they are here this weekend?‘


    ‘They eat anything. No allergies to worry about,‘ he says.


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    ‘Any favorite dishes?‘ I ask.


    ‘My mother makes a mean chicken fricassee. If your omegas can make one that is top–notch, she’ll love it. Oh, and they all love fresh pasta.‘


    ‘Great, thanks,‘ I say.


    ‘Enya…‘ he says, but I m the walls of our mental connection closed before he can say any more.