“I know that, too.” Counselor Rutledge gestured into the room, and instinctively, Elijah obeyed his command. Once he was through the door, Counselor Rutledge reached out and closed it. Elijah saw him flash a small smile in Counselor Torres’ direction, and it made him wonder if they were involved. Jealousy struck fast and hit hard before it retreated. From time to time, Elijah had felt similarly when other omegas scored a client he wanted, but never in such a nuanced way. It made him feel helpless, and he hated it. “I’m not here to fix you. I’m here to help you expand your horizons.”
There was an alpha working in an omega rehabilitation center. Elijah still couldn’t get over it. His eyes traveled across the office, looking for the catch. Was there a beta supervisor on duty? Security cameras? Anything?
No matter how hard he looked, he couldn’t find any indication that someone was watching their interactions. Were they insane? Alphas only ever wanted one thing out of omegas. Giving an alpha a job in a place like this was counterintuitive. Did they want Elijah to sleep with him?
If they did, Elijah was willing. The pull he felt to Counselor Rutledge was incredible.
The office they stepped into was plain. To the left were several bookcases, filled with academic tomes that Elijah didn’t care to investigate. A desk occupied the space across from the door, situated by the back wall. The office chair behind it looked comfortable. Slung across its back was a suit jacket. In the far-right corner was a potted fern close to four feet tall, and near it, a chaise. Elijah assumed that was where Counselor Rutledge asked his guests to sit. It was ornate and upholstered in faded floral print, like it had been snatched out of a Victorian mansion. Beside the chaise was a small round table with a box of tissues, a notebook, and a pen.
Based on what Elijah had seen from the rest of the center, he assumed the room was furnished by Counselor Rutledge. The bedroom he’d been assigned to was spartan and utilitarian, and the common rooms weren’t much better off. Luxury the likes of what Elijah saw probably weren’t in the budget.
“What’s your name?” Elijah demanded. He took a step away from Counselor Rutledge, but remained near the door. “And don’t tell me it’s just Rutledge. I mean your full name.”
“I only know you by Elijah,” Counselor Rutledge said with a dismissive shrug. “You tell me, I tell you.”
Unlike Counselor Torres, who supervised his every move, Counselor Rutledge turned his back on Elijah and strolled over to his desk. Elijah watched him as he went, considering his options. He’d refused to share his information with the police, even after intensive questioning. Would Counselor Rutledge rat him out? Likely.
“Elijah Masterson,” Elijah lied. If he revealed his true surname, he was sure the police would dig into his records to locate his parents. He didn’t want to see his family again.
A twinge of regret twisted in his stomach, and he wrapped his arms around himself and pushed it aside. Lying was part of his job, and he’d done it every day for the past four years. Why did he feel guilty now?
“Silas Rutledge,” Silas replied.
“Silas?” Elijah’s lips quirked upward. The discomfort he’d felt faded. “Really?”
“I didn’t choose my name,” Silas sat in his office chair and turned to face Elijah. “It’s a little outdated, but—”
“No, it’s a lot outdated.” Elijah laughed. He sat back on the chaise and traced his fingers along the textile. It was surprisingly rough. “Do you have any nicknames?”
“No.” Silas wheeled himself over so he was near the small table. He settled a little more than an arm’s distance away from where Elijah sat. “I happen to be fond of my name.”
“I guess it’s unique.” Elijah’s fingers stopped their exploration, and he adjusted his posture instead. “Like you are. Why are you here? You’re an alpha.”
From what little Elijah knew of omega rehabilitation centers, very few employed alphas to serve as counselors. The omegas who came through their doors were timid, battered souls who needed comfort and structure—the type that other omegas, or kind hearted betas, could provide. Alphas were too authoritative, and the dynamic they instinctively shared with omegas was too powerful and sexually charged to be of use during a period of healing.
Not that Elijah cared. A weak, battered soul wasn’t who he was. Some of Baylor’s other omegas hadn’t taken so well to selling themselves, and those were the omegas who needed intervention. Elijah considered himself well-adjusted.
“I’m a licensed professional here to serve the omega population,” Silas said simply. It sounded as if he read it off a job description. “I graduated with a master’s degree in rehabilitation counseling, and—”
“You’re an alpha.” Elijah cut through Silas’ script. “Why do you care about omegas? Are you looking for an easy fuck?”
Silas was silent for a second, taken aback. His full lips parted as though to speak, but no sound emerged. Finally, he shook his head. “No.”
It looked like Silas was just as stuffy and highbrow at the chaise Elijah sat on. Elijah had served clients like him before—men who were too full of themselves to connect with the real world in any believable manner. They lived in bubbles and kept to their prestigious cliques. Most of the time, they were absolute assholes. While he didn’t get ‘asshole’ from Silas, there was definitely something old-world-rich about him. A guy like him didn’t work at a rehabilitation center because he wanted to.
“So what’s your story?” Elijah asked.
Silas sat back in his chair and looked Elijah over. Elijah watched him as he did, hands clutching his knees.
“I think we should be talking more about you, and less about me,” Silas said. “I want to know what it was like for you, living in The White Lotus. How long were you there?”
“Long enough to know when an alpha’s trying to manipulate me,” Elijah replied with a smile. “I told you, I’m not broken, so I’m not interested in being fixed. I serve a purpose, and I’m good at what I do. I don’t need to be rehabilitated.”
Silas leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The tie he wore hung down before him, and Elijah followed its length up to Silas’ face. Why was it that his eyes were so captivating? Elijah’s heart beat for them, and a part of his soul urged him to reach out and treat Silas with tender affection. He quashed it down. Silas was different, but that didn’t mean he was good. Elijah needed to stand up for himself and make sure he fought to keep his place in the world.
What else could he do?
“How do you know you’re not meant to do something else?” Silas asked.
