His Omega's Keeper

“Jake doesn’t have to deal with a security detail,” I pointed out, frowning.

“That’s because Jacob can take care of himself,” my mother said primly. “He and Marcus are both Alphas. Nobody is going to bother an Alpha of the Royal bloodline—not if they want to keep their head firmly attached to their shoulders.”

This rather bloodthirsty idea from my normally pacifist mother had shocked me into silence. I had the mental image of my tall, dark and dangerous stepbrother ripping some guy’s head off and it made me shiver. Because honestly, it wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.

There was something about Jake—an air of barely repressed violence, despite his designer clothes and urbane appearance. He looked like an Instagram influencer but he felt like a thunderstorm about to break at any moment.

Not that I was afraid of him ever hurting me—it wasn’t that kind of violence I sensed in him. But there was no denying he carried an air of menace—of some pent-up force inside himself that, if it were to break free, would be completely deadly.

Marcus, my stepfather had a little of it too, but it was better controlled in him. If you saw him on the street with his salt and pepper hair and his dark, tailored suit, you’d think, “wealthy businessman.” Powerful—possibly a millionaire or a billionaire—and used to being obeyed. But he didn’t have the same fierce, raw energy around him that his son did. For which, I was grateful.

It didn’t help that my stepbrother was an asshole almost all the time, as I had told my friends. He was always sniping at me—being so sarcastic and sharp and acting so worldly, like he understood everything and I was clueless—just because he was five years older than me. In fact, the only time in the year since our parents had been married that he hadn’t been acting like an asshole was when—

“Are you sure you can’t come?” Madison said, breaking me out of my thoughts of my annoying stepbrother.

“It seems like you can never come with us anywhere anymore,” Ashley chimed in, looking disappointed. “It’s like you’re trying to ditch us, now that your mom is married to a bajillionaire or something.”

“Ashley’s right—we stuck with you all through middle school and high school, back when you and your mom were both as poor as church mice!” Madison said. “But now that you’re driving a brand-new Tesla and you’ve got a big, muscly bodyguard following you everywhere you go, it’s like you’re trying to ditch us.”

“Guys, please! It’s not that at all!” I protested.

Ashley crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well that’s certainly what it seems like.”

“Yeah. And where is big, bald, and muscly anyway?” Madison asked. She scanned the small diner we’d decided to meet at, not far from JMU’s main campus. “He’s usually always with you but I don’t see him anywhere.”

“I ditched him,” I muttered. “I wanted some time on my own tonight.”

The truth was, when I had casually mentioned my plans to meet my two best friends for supper, both Marcus and my mother had protested at once.

“Oh no, darling—you mustn’t!” Mom had exclaimed and Marcus had said,

“I’m sorry, Anastasia—it’s completely out of the question.”

Jake, who was the only one who didn’t protest, was sitting in an armchair of the vast living room, scrolling on his phone, the light from the antique chandelier glinting on his expensive gold phone case. He didn’t even look up as the exchange took place.

My first instinct had been to remind my mom and stepfather that I was an adult and legally capable of going out on my own. But I’m not stupid—I knew if I made a fuss and acted defiant, they would only clamp down hard. I fully intended to see my friends, but I wasn’t about to let either my mom or my stepfather know that.

“All right,” I said calmly. “And why should I tell them I’m cancelling?”

“Well…darling…” my mother began, biting her lip.

“It’s too near the full moon,” Marcus said firmly. “And you’re about the right age to have…problems at that time.”

He was so into his fantasy of being a “Royal werewolf” that he didn’t even try to hide it. I didn’t have a problem with that—it was his idea that I also shared this “Royal Were” blood that bothered me.

I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Problems?”

Marcus had given my mom a look.

“Winifred? I thought you told her.”

“I…I tried.” My mother’s hands fluttered like white doves near the neckline of her champagne-colored dress. The cost of that one dress alone would have paid the rent on our crappy apartment five times over and left us enough to eat on for a month, back before Marcus had found her and married her.

I sometimes wished he had left her alone, even though I knew that was mean of me. She was so much happier now, living in the fantasy world he had drawn her into. But personally, I needed a little dose of reality—and some time with my friends.