To ruin an Omega

Chapter 90: Mirror Mirror 1

HAZEL

The boutique smelled like money. That particular scent of expensive fabric, air conditioning and the faint trace of whatever cleaning solution they used on the marble floors. I ran my fingers along a rack of dresses. The silk whispered under my touch.

The new sentinel stood near the entrance. His posture was rigid. Alert. Like he expected danger to leap out from behind the mannequins. I had learned his name during the car ride. Baruch. It suited him. Earnest and straightforward and utterly boring.

I pulled a dress from the rack. Midnight blue with a plunging neckline. Too much for what I actually needed but I liked the way the fabric caught the light. I held it up against myself and glanced at Baruch. He was looking at the ceiling. At the walls. At literally anything except me.

“What do you think?” I asked.

His eyes flickered toward me for half a second. “It’s nice, Luna Hazel.”

“You barely looked at it.”

“I’m sure whatever you choose will be appropriate.”

Appropriate. The word made me want to laugh. I draped the dress over my arm and moved to the next rack. A sales associate materialized beside me. She had perfect teeth and perfect hair. She also had the kind of smile that said she worked on commission.

“Can I start a dressing room for you?” she asked.

“Yes. Thank you.”

She took the dress and several others I had been considering. Led me toward the back where a row of private changing areas lined the wall. Each one had thick curtains and enough space inside to fit three people comfortably. She hung everything on the hooks and gestured inside.

“Let me know if you need any other sizes,” she said.

I thanked her and she disappeared. I looked back at Baruch. He had found a chair near the entrance to the dressing area. He sat down stiffly. His hands rested on his knees.

“You can wait closer,” I said. “I might need help.”

His expression did something complicated. “I’m fine here, Luna Hazel.”

“Suit yourself.”

I stepped into the changing area and pulled the curtain closed. The space was lined with mirrors. I could see myself from every angle. I stripped off my clothes and reached for the first dress. A red thing with a high collar and long sleeves. Conservative enough to wear to a funeral. I pulled it on and studied my reflection.

Boring. Absolutely boring.

I tried the next one. Emerald green with a fitted bodice and a skirt that flared at the knees. Better but still not right. The third was the midnight blue. I slipped it over my head and worked my arms through the sleeves. The fabric settled against my skin. Cool and smooth. I reached behind myself to pull up the zipper.

It stuck halfway.

I tugged at it. The zipper refused to budge. I twisted and tried to see what was catching but the angle was wrong. I pulled harder. Nothing.

It would have been frustrating but an idea popped into my head right there and then.

“Baruch,” I called out.

There was a pause. Then his voice came from somewhere outside the curtain. “Yes, Luna Hazel?”

“I need help with this zipper.”

There was another pause. It was longer this time. “I can get the sales associate.”

I smiled at my reflection. “I’m more comfortable with you.”

“Luna Hazel, I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to—”

I yanked the curtain open. Stood there in the half-zipped dress with the fabric gaping at my back. His eyes went wide. He stood up so fast he nearly knocked over the chair.

“It’s just a zipper,” I said. “Unless you’re the kind of man who loses control around women.”

His jaw tightened. “Of course not.”

“Then come help me.”

He hesitated. I could see the war happening behind his eyes again. The same one from last night. Duty versus propriety. Training versus whatever moral code he had been raised with. Finally he took a step forward. Then another. He entered the changing area and I turned my back to him.

“Just pull it up,” I said.

His fingers brushed against my spine. The touch was feather light. Tentative. Like he thought I might shatter if he applied too much pressure. He grasped the zipper and pulled. The fabric closed over my back. The dress fit perfectly now. Snug in all the right places.

“Done,” he said.

His voice was strained. I turned around and looked up at him. The changing area suddenly felt much smaller with both of us in it. His height seemed to fill the space.

“Well?” I asked. “How do I look?”

“Great.”

I tilted my head. “You’re not looking at me well enough to just say great.”

His gaze was fixed on my face. Carefully. Deliberately. Like if he let his eyes wander he might combust on the spot.

“Look down,” I said.

“Luna Hazel—”

“Look at the dress, Baruch. That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”

He looked down. His eyes traveled over the midnight blue fabric. The way it hugged my waist and flared at my hips. The neckline that showed just enough to be interesting without being obscene.

“The dress is great,” he said.

I turned back to the mirror. Studied my reflection from different angles. The dress really was beautiful. The color made my skin look luminous. The cut emphasized curves I sometimes forgot I had.

“Does it make my breasts look fuller?” I asked.

The silence that followed was deafening. I watched his reflection in the mirror. His face had gone bright red. The color spread down his neck and disappeared under his collar.

“I can’t—” he started.

I turned back to face him. “Can’t what? You’re a man, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Oh… Or are you gay?” I took a step closer. “Is that it? Because if you are, that’s fine. But you should probably tell me so I know.”

“No,” he said quickly. “I’m not gay.”

“So you must know.” I took another step towards him. The space between us shrank to nothing. “Do they make my breasts look big?”

He swallowed hard. His throat worked visibly. “Is that what you’re going for?”

I closed the remaining distance. Looked up into his eyes. They were brown. A warm brown that reminded me of honey. His pupils were dilated. His breathing had gone shallow.

“I just want honesty,” I said softly.

His lips parted. I let my gaze drop down his body. Down past his chest. Past his belt. The evidence of his arousal was impossible to miss. His uniform pants did nothing to hide it. I smirked and looked back up at his face.

“Well?” I prompted.

He opened his mouth. The word was forming on his lips. I could see it. Could see him struggling between honesty and propriety. Between what he was thinking and what he should say.

“Oh my goddess, you look divine, Fia.”

The voice came from a stall not too far away. Female. Excited. Familiar in a way I couldn’t quite place. Baruch’s mouth snapped shut. He took a step back but there was nowhere to go in the small space. His back hit the mirror.

I reached up and pressed my fingers against his lips. They were warm. Soft. He froze under my touch. I traced the curve of his bottom lip with my thumb. Let my fingers linger there.

“Hold that thought,” I said. “I think my little sister is here.”

I dropped my hand and stepped out of the changing area. Pulled the curtain closed behind me. Baruch remained inside. Trapped. I could almost hear his heart pounding through the fabric.

Two figures emerged from another changing stall down the row. One was a woman I didn’t recognize. Boring brunette like Fia but put together. She looked like money too. Like she belonged in a place like this. The other figure made me stop in my tracks.

Fia.

She looked different from the last time I had seen her. Healthier. The hollowness that had clung to her back in Silver Creek was gone. Her hair was longer. Shinier. She wore clothes that actually fit her properly. A soft pink thing that made her look delicate and pretty and everything I knew she wasn’t.

The brunette woman was gushing over her. Adjusting the fabric. Stepping back to admire. Like Fia was some kind of doll to be dressed up and displayed.

I arranged my face into a smile. Wide. Warm. The kind of smile that said I was delighted to see her. I walked toward them with measured steps. My bare feet silent on the cold floor.

“Fancy seeing you here, Fia.”

Fia’s head whipped around. Her eyes went wide when she saw me. The color drained from her face. For a second she just stared. Then she found her voice.

“What are you doing here, Hazel?”

I laughed. The sound bounced off the mirrors and the marble. Bright and careless. I turned in a slow circle. Let her see the dress I was wearing. Let her see that I was here. That I belonged here more than she ever could.

“Shopping,” I said. I stopped turning and looked at her. “You?”