The Sikh

Her eyes directly meet mine. And I see a feline smile upturn her scarlet lips, covered by a thin chiffon. Then as if she had clearly wanted me to see, her gaze slides over to Christian next to me.

Christian doesn’t see. But I do.

I see her run her gaze down his body in the most lustful way that anyone who would’ve seen her would know. But as if she’d cast some spell, no one knows. She gives me a deep, meaningful smile. I can practically hear her voice.

He does not belong with you, ugly Omega.

She is not the only one who looks at me this way.

Practically everyone has their eyes fixed on me, like a ring of predators surrounding a weak prey trembling in the center.

But I am not prey.

I take my place next to Christian. And as if he can sense the shift in my aura, Christian gives me a knowing, amused look. His eyes always roam back to mine, every ten seconds. It’s as if nowhere else he looks pleases him.

And after what seems to be an eternity of heavy silence, full of flickering