Page 46 of The King's Omega
I shrugged. “We’d met up with Vilkurn by then, and he was two years older. Very sophisticated. It was Vil who introduced Tarn to the ladies.” I stifled a laugh, remembering our first meeting with Vilkurn. He had been in a bed in those ladies’ rooms, stark naked and tied up after they’d apparently rubbed him with oils and robbed him blind. Tarn and I had burst in on Vil struggling with the slippery knots, cursing in languages I’d never heard before or since.
It was the only time anyone had ever caught Vil unprepared, and he’d made sure he was on the other end of the ropes from that night on. Vali made an impatient noise, and I continued, “Vilkurn knew a lot about ladies, even then. He made sure we all knew our way around a… dungeon.” I relished the pink flush that moved from her chest up her neck as she thought of Vilkurn’s carnal knowledge.
For the first time the thought of him with her didn’t anger me. He was almost as close a friend as Axe, and I trusted him implicitly. Vilkurn’s tastes had always been varied, and we’d shared women when we were younger. What would it be like to share this girl’s pleasure?
I had a terrible suspicion I would never find out. I had ruined my chance at earning her affection. Now all I could hope for was her forgiveness.
I shook away my dark thoughts. “We never got as far as the door. Father heard us in the hall—the treasury’s three doors down from my chambers if you ever want to try breaking in, by the way.”
“Ah,” she said. “Very good. I’ll make a note.”
“When Father burst in, Tarn had the jewels in his hands. I knew they’d execute him for stealing, so I tackled him and shouted that he couldn’t stopmefrom taking them.”
“You protected him?”
“Of course, I did. He was one of my only friends. It was my duty, my privilege, to keep him safe.”
I had punched him in the gut, pretending not to see my Father and his guards behind me, and stuffed the jewels in my pockets, raving about how I was the prince and could take what I wanted.
The beating afterward had hurt, though at least Father had kept it private. But what had hurt more was what he’d said as I sobbed and bled on the floor of his private chambers. “You’re a terrible son, Rigol. No doubt you’ll make an even worse king when I’m gone. Rimholt deserves better.”
I knew that; he had said as much too many times to count. The way I’d treated the Omega who had been fated to save us only proved him right again.
Something soft moved over my hand and I blinked away the memory. “What was your mother like?” Her fingers stroked the top of my wrist tentatively, then retreated.
“I never really knew her. She died when I was three.” The silence stretched into something warm and sweet, moving between us on currents of air that smelled of honey and peaches and…something rancid. I sniffed. “What is that? Old oil?”
Vali’s eyes clouded. “I can’t smell anything like that,” she lied politely.
Goddess, could it be my breath?
She moved away and buried her nose in the book, tracing the letters and making each sound under her breath. I leaned close—but not too close—and tried not to let her catch me staring at a face that I couldn’t believe I’d once thought plain.
* * *
The next weekswere the best I had known since becoming king. In the library, seated next to Vali, watching her soak up knowledge faster than anyone I’d met, I realized I had underestimated her in every regard. She was quick and had a keen, odd sense of humor. We had finished both primers the first day, and she’d absorbed everything I’d taught her.
She was unbelievably clumsy but believed the crashes and spills that happened around her were the fault of wobbly tables, uneven floors, or even fast-moving servants. More than once, she’d almost spilled wine on the pages of a priceless book, and then remonstrated with me about my lack of care.
Before, I would have found it annoying, even distasteful. Now it was adorable.
Most surprising was how my view of her physical form changed as I came to know her. Regular meals since arriving at the castle had helped her finally grow some womanly curves. I was careful never to remark on them, but she brought it up herself one day.
“Look!” she crowed, coming into the room wearing one of the simple, colorful dresses she said Lorn had found for her. I was sure Lorn hadn’t told her the style was from what we referred to as his milkmaid phase, during which he’d rutted with almost every milkmaid in Turino. Most of them had worn a frock like this in pastel colors with a shockingly low neckline.
I wished I had a nice cool cup of milk right then. And possibly an even colder bath.
“Can you believe it?” She waved at her chest again.
“What should I be looking at?” It was difficult not to stare at her tits as they were bursting over the top of the chemise.
“My breasts!” She grinned when I choked. “Come on. It’s exciting. I have some!” She reached up and jiggled her tits with her hands, smiling down at her chest.
“Um, yes?” I shifted in my chair as my arousal became obvious. What was the right thing to say? “You do, indeed.”
“Well, I never really had any before. I mean, the ladies in the Sow gave me all sorts of advice to get them to grow, but nothing worked.” She screwed up her nose. “The only problem is, I will not fit my clothes if they keep growing.”
Her bodice was rather tight. “I-I’ll get you some more clothes. Would you like the same style, or…?”
