Chapter 11 CHAPTER 011
Soren hates a lot of things, and one of them is being told what to do. He hates looking so perfect, and most of all, he hates this—dressed so flawlessly that he has to stop himself every few seconds from dragging his fingers through his neatly brushed hair just to mess it up out of spite.
He is dressed in a deep wine-red three-piece suit: a white long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves folded up to the elbows, a red tie that matches the suit, and a fitted red vest with buttons in the front, which is tight around the waist, making his waist look smaller and more defined.
He is dressed too extensively, and right now, he is in some private lesson that’s meant to teach him the etiquette of elites. Soren wishes he could vanish and realize all of this is one big nightmare, but when he remembers Iris, he realizes every struggle or sacrifice is worth it. Soren just has to take this for a year.
…Just one year. That’s what he keeps telling himself.
One year of smiling when he wants to sneer, one year of standing straight when he wants to punch something, and one year of pretending he belongs in rooms where everyone was born with silver in their mouths.
“Mr. Fox," the instructor suddenly calls, an older Beta male with a tight smile and sharp eyes that seem to cut through Soren. “Your posture.”
Soren resists the urge to roll his eyes, but he straightens automatically, his jaw tightening.
“You should set your shoulders back and your chin slightly higher,” he instructs again, and Soren tries to follow, but it seems he isn't satisfied as he hooks a finger under Soren’s chin and lifts it.
“I told you not to touch him.”
Soren’s soul almost flies out of his body, and the instructor also jumps away from him as if he’s some plague. Both of them whip their heads to the door where Reign stands as if he owns the entire building, while the air in the room changes immediately.
The instructor immediately drops his head, staring at the floor as if he’s been burned. “My apologies, Mr. Montgomery. I was merely correcting—”
“I am aware of what you were doing.” Reign steps into the room slowly, taking off the glove on his hand deliberately while his gaze stays fixed on the instructor. “You will correct him without touching him.”
The older Beta swallows hard, holding his hands in front of him while his head remains bowed. “Of course, Mr. Montgomery,”
Soren stands there, frozen between embarrassment and something else he can't explain, and he tries hard not to flinch when Reign’s eyes finally shift to him. They sweep over him slowly as he takes off his gloves and shoves them into the pocket of his coat.
“You look presentable,” Reign says evenly, getting closer.
Soren almost laughs. “I’m thrilled,” he replies flatly. Of course, he looks presentable to the man because he's dressed up like a doll. Soren fights the urge to roll his eyes, recalling why he hates the rich. They think they are so great.
Suddenly, an arm hooks around his waist, and before Soren realizes it, he's pulled forward, his hands colliding on Reign's chest while a gasp rips through his throat. His head whips up in shock to meet the Enigma's dark, soulless eyes.
“A penny for your thoughts, darling?”
Darling? The word screams in Soren's head before his expression morphs into a look of realization that the Enigma is only playing his part as a fiancé before an audience. He's a master at playing with people's feelings.
One moment, he's threatening Soren's only sister, and the next moment, he's dressing Soren up like the perfect doll and holding him close as if he matters and calling him darling? Yuck.
Soren forces a tight smile, even though his pulse is beating wildly against his ribs.
“My thoughts?” he repeats. “I don't think you will be pleased to hear them.”
Reign's eyes darken slightly, but his lips slowly stretch into a barely visible smile. He leans closer, moving to his neck, causing Soren to shiver while his palms slightly clench on Reign's chest, knowing the Enigma would have smelled his Omega scent if his scent gland were located in his neck, and for the thousandth time, Soren thanked his lucky stars that his scent gland is hidden in his inner thigh.
Unless someone's shoving their heads there or his suppressants are failing, his secret is safe, but that doesn't stop his stomach from churning and twisting at the possibility of being caught. Soren has no idea of the full length of an Enigma’s abilities.
Reign’s breath ghosts along the side of Soren’s neck, and Soren’s entire body goes rigid.
“If your thoughts aren’t pleasing…” Reign murmurs, voice low enough that only Soren can hear it, “…then perhaps you should learn which ones are safe to have.” His lips hover near the shell of Soren’s ear, and then, barely, his lips brush against his skin.
A spark shoots down Soren’s spine before he can stop it, while his breath betrays him at the sharp inhale he hates the second it leaves his mouth. Out of impulse, he's shoving himself out of Reign's hold, creating distance between them with their eyes locked on each other.
Reign doesn’t look offended; if anything, he looks entertained as his eyes sparkle cunningly. Then, he turns, walking toward the couch at the corner of the room as if he didn’t just shift the ground beneath Soren’s feet. He sits, crossing one leg over the other, fingers resting against the armrest, and he watches with a keen gaze.
“Continue,” he tells the Beta instructor, who looks like he's about to melt into the floor as he visibly flinches.
“Y-es, Mr. Montgomery,”
Soren doesn't move for a long time. His hands stay clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms as if that small pain can ground him. He can still feel it—the faint brush of Reign’s lips against the shell of his ear, which causes a weird sensation to run through his body, and he doesn't like it one bit while his brain still fails to catch up with the hell that just happened.
“Mr. Fox,” the instructor calls carefully. “Shall we resume?”
Soren inhales slowly, and he straightens his posture. “Yes,” he replies, voice steady despite the storm in his chest, and for the rest of the lesson, Soren doesn't look Reign's way, ignoring the feelings of Enigma's eyes that follow his every movement like a predator who has his eyes set on his next victim.
Soren swallows the lump in his throat. He feels like a cornered prey.