Page 3 of Prey for Me

Hoku is a beta, and so is my sister. But she’s an ex-princess and he’s a bodyguard. Absolutely forbidden, and scandalous. Until now. I wouldn’t be surprised if she finally popped her precious cherry and I became an auntie by next year.

I swallow back the age old bitterness, pissed at myself for once again acting like such a bitch. For all the shit I’ve been through being born an omega, being a beta woman is inarguably worse. And yet, I do envy my sister in some small, wretched part of my soul. To be able to hide from the spotlight and be ignored would have been a welcome relief some days, compared to being under his domineering gaze and…

I shake the thought off, finding solace that my father’s tendrils won’t reach us in the hallowed halls of Foxcroft. If what I suspect is true, he may lose everything soon. Maybe by the new year, we can celebrate a new Wilder while toasting the death of that bastard. A girl can dream.

“So, neither of you is going to tell me what’s so funny?” Hoku teases, leaning down and in, so he’s in front of the camera. Hepushes his long, black hair out of his amber brown face, a dimple puckering his sculpted cheek. Faith’s bodyguard checks the time on his watch. I roll my eyes. He acts like he’s three hundred and not thirty-something. Hoku’s slightly crooked nose—which had healed incorrectly from an injury—tips up as he lifts his chin.

“It’s a secret between sisters,” Faith says, laughing softly.

“I see?” Hoku replies, standing to his full height, and whatever expression he’s wearing causes Faith to bliss out like an omega in heat.

Her laughter reminds me of twinkling starlight, and I almost choke on the sweetness of the scene unfolding before my screen—Hoku’s so relaxed, and from what I can see of it, smiling softly. Hoku’s nothing like the hard-edged, no-nonsense, distant killing machine that’s followed us across two oceans, three continents, and counting.

Hoku’s love shines through his gaze, much more freely now since he’s away from Father. I smile at that. Though everyone thinks he’s being banished, he sees it as continuing his mission of guarding his mate as her guardian angel.

As if betas can have mates. However, in my opinion, the love between betas is more genuine and authentic. There are no pheromones to consider in the equation, making it difficult to determine whether their feelings are biologically determined. Lust and love are simple for them, as it is for alphas and omegas. But the dedication to stay together without mating marks or bonds? That’s a proper mated pair to me.

I don’t know if I would’ve ever had kids myself, but I’m more than ready to be a rich child-free auntie. Even if our political dynasty falls apart, our trust funds, inherited from our mother’s dowry, will remain intact—a sense of security for my sister and me. If anything, Father’s downfall will mean my sister and I can finally be free. We just have to spend it wisely, and I need to push Hoku to confess so we can stop paying his fee. Though I havea sneaking suspicion that he’s no longer being paid to follow us here, nor will he expect us to pick up a future bill.

With a shake of his head, Hoku moves off camera completely, mumbling, “I’ll make you tell me the truth later. You better not be laughing at me.”

“What’s with that guy?” Faith asks wearily as she pins a loose ebony curl back into place in her perfect curly updo, snapping her out of her trance. “When has he ever…jokedaround? Maybe Father poisoned our drinks before we boarded the boat. You might want to stop drinking. I am. I feel soooo sleepy. Ah, Grace?”

I snap back to listening intently, lifting an eyebrow.

“What’s that expression?” she asks wearily.

“Nothing,” I purr, stifling maniacal laughter.

“Uh-huh,” she replies, unconvinced, but soon enough, a crooked smile lights up her face. “Couldn’t possibly be that you’re imagining Father going broke?”

“No, of course not. I always imagine fates much, much worse than that for that asshole,” I whisper, clutching my knife a little too hard as I try to put some food on my stomach. The steak is a bit tough for my liking, but crackers, cheese, celery, champagne, and wine won’t hold me over for six more hours in the sky.

Faith lets loose a dramatic sigh, holding the back of her hand to her forehead as Mother used to do. We both burst out laughing again, imagining her fainting on the spot too. She was a drama queen. Regal, lovely, and fair. But, a drama queen nonetheless.

I guess that’s where we get our dramatic flair from.

“I’ll pray for you,” she says sarcastically, in the same tone Mother used to use, and I combust into another giggling fit. Only my sister can make a blessing sound like a curse.

But our moment of bliss doesn’t last long. Suddenly, Faith’s face stiffens, and she looks over her shoulder in confusion. I dabat my mouth with a handkerchief embroidered with palm leaves and exotic flowers, Faith made for me years ago during a trip to Hawaii.

“What’s wrong?” I ask tentatively, as her expression shifts from confusion to surprise to horror in a matter of seconds.

“Faith? What’s wrong?” I ask more forcefully, but my tone pitches too high, conveying how frantic and afraid I am.

Faith turns back to the screen, holding her phone with one hand, before she’s knocked down to the ground. I bolt up, or at least try to, tied down by my seat belt. I struggle to undo it as Faith scrambles for her phone on hands and knees. It’s skittered across the deck, and the image is blurry and choppy.

“He-He-Hello?” she asks as people start running in every direction, screaming, sobbing. “Grace? Help—”

The screen goes pitch black, and I clutch my phone with both hands, screaming like a madwoman. And then, all hell breaks loose.

“Mayday! Mayday! Mayday!” A stern and frightened voice blares over the speakers as the cabin goes dark.

We jerk left, and I hit my head, stunned by the impact. A voice is screaming to sit down and strap in, but all I can do is hold my handkerchief to the cut. Cut? Oh fuck, I’m bleeding! I stumble back, leaning into my seat.

“What in the…” I whisper as I look out of the window at a scene ripped from hell. The wing is on fire! Pieces of metal melt off, exposing the skeleton of the jet’s machinery.

A new, higher-pitched piercing scream fills the air-tight compartment as our plane starts nosediving out of the sky, shuddering, spiraling. We’re all going to die!

---