I can’t afford to mess this up. This penthouse, the security, the “genie” who handed me the keys—it all depends on me beingthe perfect, compliant resident. I can’t let them think I’m too unstable for the residency.
“I know.” I force my hands to lie flat on the padded table, though they still want to shake. “Just tell them to be quick.”
Urie offers a small nod. “I’ll let them know. Just breathe, Zora. You’re doing exactly what you need to do.”
He exits, leaving me alone in the sterile silence. I stare at the spot where the tablet was, the image of that red robot burned into my mind.
After sucking far too much of my blood out of me, they let me go. I push through the frosted glass doors and step back onto the marble of the lobby. The scale of the space usually makes me feel small, but right now, the high ceilings are a relief. I need to act normal. I need to be the perfect resident.
I head toward the cafe counter. The morning rush has slowed, but the counter is still active. The rich, dark scent of the espresso machine is stronger now, a welcome distraction from the antiseptic lingering in my nose. A Beta staff member is behind the counter, busy with a steaming pitcher of milk.
“Could I just get a black coffee and a cinnamon pastry, please?”
I lean against the cool stone of the counter and wait, my eyes tracking the movement of people in the lobby to avoid looking anyone in the face. I just need a moment to breathe before I head back up to the penthouse.
“Rough morning?” A low, heavy rumble vibrates right through the counter.
I look to my left and see a massive frame casting a shadow over the marble. The man is wearing a plain charcoal security uniform that strains across his chest. I don’t look at his face; I know it won’t help. Instead, my eyes go straight to the name tag pinned to his pocket:Sawyer Morgan - Security.
I swallow hard; the name helps me know him even if his features won’t. “Just a lot of information for an intake appointment.”
Sawyer holds a plain white cup, his large hand almost swallowing it. Damn, for a Beta, he’s a big guy. I realize I’m twisting the hem of my tank top and I quickly drop my hands to my sides.
His almost gray eyes looks me over. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you.”
I laugh. “Oh, you didn’t spook me. I’m fine. Just tired.”
The Beta behind the counter sets my order down. “Here you go. Have a nice day, Miss Zora.” I grab the coffee and the pastry; the heat of the cup seeps into my palm. I want to look away, but there’s something about him that pulls my gaze. An insistent ache eases into my lower belly, that feels separate from the panic I just felt in the clinic. My clit aches.
He breathes in and and takes a step back. “Well, you should go get some rest. Have a nice day.” Sawyer offers a stiff nod before stepping back and heading to the security desk.
I head to the elevator bank, my heart rate refusing to slow down. I lift my right arm and press the matte black band against the glass sensor. A soft chime rings out and the thirteenth-floor button glows a cool blue.
The car moves upward. When the doors open, I walk straight to the kitchen and set the coffee and pastry on the marble island. I can’t eat. The ghosts are screaming in my head, the image of the boy in the fire, and the boy with the toy fighting for attentionwith the memory of Sawyer’s intense energy that makes me want to bend over and present myself to him, begging for his dick.
I’ve been with Betas in the past. Alphas scare me too much, but without a knot, the sex is only half satisfying with a Beta.
I feel like a traitor. I’m sitting in this palace, crying over boys I can’t find, while my body hums with a need I don’t want to admit to.
Going to the nesting room, I pull the double doors shut. I reach for the remote that controls the lights and the blinds. I open them, letting in some of the morning sun. It’s nice to feel like I’m out in the open, but no one can see into my unit from the surrounding buildings.
I don’t want grounding and sleep right now. I want to drown out the memories and blurry faces. I want to lose control so I don’t have to think about the ash and the smoke anymore.
Grabbing my laptop, I crawl onto the bed. I log into the RAA portal, my fingers flying across the keys. I skip Tuesday.
Most of the profiles say they’re away or in a session. I frown. Perhaps I shouldn’t be doing this early in the day. It’s Jules day off, but that doesn’t mean I can spend my whole day getting my rocks off.
Then a profile lights up. One of the ones named after a day of the week, Saturday. Saturdays are chill, but his profile looks anything but chill. I click on him and go to his profile.
The preview video shows a man standing in a dark room wearing a skull half-mask that covers his nose and mouth .His shoulders are massive, his arms corded with muscle as he leans toward the lens with a predatory intensity.
“You’re here because you’re tired of being the one in control.” His voice is a low, gravelly rasp that makes the laptop speakers vibrate. “You want the noise in your head to stop. You want to forget the ghosts. I don’t want your stories. I want yoursurrender. Give me the lead, and I’ll give you the silence you’re begging for.”
I hit the request button.
A small, pulsing circle appears in the center of the screen.Awaiting Alpha...I shut my eyes only to open them. Every time I close my eyes, I see red robot and the faceless boy from my past. The wait is agonizing. With Tuesday, the connection felt almost instant, like he was sitting there waiting for me.
The screen flickers. The loading icon vanishes, replaced by the dark feed of Saturday’s room. He stands in front of his camera, his arms crossed over a chest that looks broad enough to block out the world. His eyes are green, and there’s a hunger in them that makes me shiver. He just watches me, his silence a physical pressure that fills the room.
