Page 68 of Ondine: Vol. 2

I can’t because I don’t think I have it in me to pretend anymore. After my breakdown and then the marking, my omega side is at the forefront. She can’t be hid behind my old mask.

It’s scaring me half to death.

The assistant gives me the go ahead and I walk out into the lights. I can see four shadows and movement in the mezzanine. My alphas. I draw in a full breath, empowered by their silhouettes.

In the center of the theater are the judges. There’s four judges and about six other people.

One grand piano sits on the lonely stage. I pass it and stand next to the bench.

My hands are together over my stomach clutching the tie and poetry book.

“Ondine. Welcome. How’re you today?” A tall older man asks me with a kind smile underneath a very intense mustache. He’s the conductor. Oh my god.

“Matthias. I’m doing very well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, but we met before. I came to a few of your classes. A couple of times.”

I laugh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“It’s not everyday you meet someone of your talent. And not to mention your designation. I didn’t know at the time. Apologies.”

We’re already doing this.

“Do we need to discuss my designation for the audition?”

“Oh no, I’m sorry. My colleague here is kicking me under the table. Please disregard an old man. She’s going to kick me again, but I have to say, we’ve been given the opportunity to use a grantfor your salary if we accept an omega in the symphony orchestra. I’m hoping that after today we have a better idea on how we plan to move forward. I’m excited to hear what you have prepared. Do you want to get started?”

He’s not being a complete ass and I know it. I would need a lot of special treatment. Time off. Randomly. I’d need my alphas nearby. They’d probably have to guarantee extra space for them. Traveling with the company would be a whole other issue. Security would need to be escalated. That being said, I don’t like that it’s already being talked about.

I just want to perform.

“I’ll be performing Johanna Wagner’s Wilf de Hitze No. 22.”

I give them a smile and bow. Then I sit at the piano. I set my nest on the sheet music holder in front of me.

An omega wrote this score. After her alpha died. She never performed it. She died by suicide shortly after the funeral.

She’s the only famous female piano composer. And she was an omega.

I breathe in, smelling Jake and Shadow on their items, and then begin to play.

I know this song. Like I know the beating of my own heart. And I want them all to know it. I cannot help feeling my heart crack and the blood there pour down my arms, between my fingers, and across the piano keys. I cannot help but perform this piece any other way.

I always wanted to love the way she mourned her love. I believe in that kind of passion even though I’ve never seen it.

The notes climb and expand, growing and moving and I’m at the helm. But barely.

Dammit to hell if I get them all right! They are right there! We fight against each other. I know how this song should be played and yet the song demands I let it play me.

This has always been my greatest critique—I play like a monster takes me over. But that monster has never been anything but my inner omega. It’s why I’ve always loved to play piano. It was, for the longest time, her only outlet. My only way of leaning into my omega side.

But for a position like this, they truly don’t want this preternatural thing at the helm. I fight her, for the sake of the audition. I try to move her aside like I’ve always done. To appease my beta boyfriend in college. To deter alphas from speaking to me. To continue being independent and alone.

It hurts to push her aside and try to place the beta-mask on.

My nest sits at the piano—Jake’s tie and Shadow’s book. Looking at it makes it even harder to suppress my omega.

Fuck it.