Prologue
My fingers screamed as I submerged them in the scorching water. I didn’t flinch; I let them sink into the scald, welcoming the sharp bite. The burn reminded me I was alive. Something I wondered when the days blended together. I pumped more soap onto the sponge, and picked up another plate. The water slid off, thick like syrup.
Wax on.
Wax off.
Familiar footsteps advanced, and I tucked my chin. I continued and pretended that scrubbing was now the most interesting thing in the world. The lies I told myself—that he wouldn’t know I noticed him, couldn’t see me tense up, or scent my fear in the air—were a pitiful safety blanket. The truth was a lead weight in my stomach, dragging me down until I couldn’t see a way out. I preferred the reality I created.
Everyone knows.
That pesky voice, either my Omega instincts long buried deep or my conscious taunted.
And no one bothered to stop it.
My fear soured, the sharp, metallic tang of distress filled the small kitchen whenever he was around. Footsteps announced my tormentor was making his way through the kitchen. He didn’t have to say anything. We both knew I was listening, watching, feeling every movement he made. I held my breathas he stopped by my side. He was so close, the heat radiated from his body. All the hair on my body stood on end. My fingers shook, and I dipped my hand so low it scraped the bottom of the stainless steel sink, attempting to drown the tell-tale tremor. I searched for another dish, utensil,anythingto wash.
He lingered, his chest nearly brushing my back, watching the way my pulse thrashed against the skin of my throat. Internally, I screamed as the weight of his gaze burned a hole into the side of my face. The silence was a weighted blanket, suffocating. I didn’t turn my head, couldn’t look at him, he preferred that. He hated it when I looked him in the eyes. The bruise on my cheek had finally faded from the last time I’d forgotten. In my peripheral vision, he towered over me, his hand holding his plate in front of him. It was hard to tell what mood he was in when he was silent like this. I flinched when he moved. His hand was already there, hovering over the water as his plate sank. The fork clunked as it hit the bottom. He hovered, waiting until I grabbed the new dish.
Please, please, please go away.
The watch strapped to my wrist ticked a dozen times, each second stretching until the silence hummed in my ears. He took a step back and walked toward the doors. I waited until the sound of his footsteps disappeared down the hall. I released the breath I’d been holding, my shoulders slumped with relief, but it was short-lived. The reprieve was only temporary. Soon, I would have to go upstairs.
Dumbass.
The sun had set, and at best, I had an hour. There was only so much I could do to prolong the inevitable. The dishes were eventually done, the counters wiped, and the kitchen spotless. I’d run out of reasons to stay downstairs.
The weekly pack meeting was about to begin, which was my cue to disappear. It was reserved for the ‘productive’ membersof the family–the Alphas and their mate. Since my fathers were dead and I was nothing more than a ghost in my own home, I didn’t count. My chosen mate, who didn’t come from my Mother’s womb, was also excluded. My legs betrayed me, shaking with every step I took up the stairs. I paused in front of my door, taking a deep breath, stealing myself. My stomach churned. I didn’t let myself hesitate. I grabbed the handle and threw the door open before my courage could fail.
The room was empty. My vision blurred. The hiss of the shower echoed from the bathroom. My shoulders finally dropped an inch—another brief moment of relief.
I wanted to wash too, but with him here, I wouldn’t. I’d shower in the morning. I rushed to my wardrobe, removing my clothes as I went. I dressed quickly in a t-shirt dress that went down to my knees and shorts, a pitiful barrier. I gathered my laundry and threw it into the hamper. The water was still running, so I flicked the lights off and rushed to bed.
I prayed for sleep to take me. I got my wish, but woke up to the bed creaking as it dipped.
He won’t do anything while I’m sleeping.
He won’t do anything.
He won’t.
I’d reached the end of the lying road. I knew better. My Omega scent, sweet and cloying with terror, spiked the air. A submission I couldn’t stop my body from offering. The smell of the stale room, however, was Amos’s Beta frustration: a bitter, packless tang that soured my mouth. He craved the Alpha dominance he couldn’t claim, and having me, an Omega, only highlighted his weakness, because of what I needed: a knot.
Fingers scraped my thigh, shattering the fragile peace. I swallowed the lump in my throat as they hooked into my shorts and pulled them down. I whimpered as large hands gripped my ankles and spread my legs apart before he climbed in between.
The hands he used to protect me with now hurt me.
A breath rattled through my chest as I ignored the alarms blaring and forced myself to relax. I exhaled, trying to blow the chaos from my mind and the tremor from my limbs. I had to believe it, or he would scent the truth. The only thing that could lighten this is if I went along with what he wanted. I looked up into the darkness, his face a dark silhouette. I lifted my hands, wrapping them around the back of his neck.
But that’s not what he wanted tonight.
He yanked my hands away and straightened up on his knees. The sharp inhale tore from my throat, loud in the silence. He didn’t want me to touch him. Tonight, I was going to be an obedient Omega and take it. I bit into my lower lip as I lifted my hips in offering. Anything to appease him. He yanked my hips, slamming me onto my stomach. His hardness flopping onto my cheek.
The grip on my hip turned bruising as another forced my head down, making me arch for him. I wasn’t wet, but he didn’t need to check to know. I was never wet for him anymore. His words repeated in my head:Broken Omega. You can’t even produce slick.
He spat on my ass, and my chin trembled as the moisture slipped down my backside. I reached out and pulled the pillow toward me, burying my face in it. I clenched my jaw as he lined himself up and slammed into me hard. The fabric soaked up my tears, and I swallowed my cries as he drove into me again and again, ignoring the way my body jerked and the bedframe slammed against the wall. My vision whited out, the world narrowing down to the agonizing heat where he forced his way in.
He grunted behind me. The bed protested, groaning with the rhythm of his thrusts. He pulled out and thrust into me again.This time, I screamed out as he entered the wrong way. My neck strained, lifting my face from the soaked pillow.
