He became a senator to be the change he wanted to see in the world. To make things better for everyone. Except power and greed corroded all the good things about him. That, combined with the threats against me and Mom after he sponsored an omega wellness bill. He changed. His need for possession was no longer about safety, but control.
The door to the limo opened, and I gracefully took his offered arm. Cameras flashed, all trying to get a photo of Senator William Sterling and his daughter attending the charity event for Boston Children’s Hospital. Now that he was running for governor, the spotlight had never been brighter.
Inside, chandeliers dripped with crystals, twinkling with golden light. Women in designer gowns and men in crisp tuxedos milled about, their laughter a brittle, unnerving sound. Dad guided us through the room with practiced ease, introducing me to alphas with more money than sense.
They leered at me, making inappropriate comments that I shrugged off.
Suddenly, the air was too thick and the walls were too close. I needed a minute. Short, hurried breaths stung behind my sternum, panic building in my belly. I excused myself, promising to be back in a moment as I wound through the crowds, making my way to a balcony. The light breeze hit my face, uncoiling the tension in my body.
A waiter appeared, and I took the offered flute of champagne even though I didn’t drink. My nails clinked along the glass stem. The din of voices quieted as I stilled, frozen in place by a piercing stare from across the room.
Bright green eyes—the color of a summer forest—held my stare. My heart thudded, hammering against my ribs in an untamed staccato. A mountain of an alpha stood behind those captivating eyes, dark ink peeking out from the collar of his shirt.
A well-manicured, rust-colored beard framed his sharp features, his matching locks tied in a bun at the back of his head. I licked my lips, my feet moving of their own accord as I made to move closer to the mysterious alpha.
I tended to keep away from alphas. But my chest ached, a warmth blooming in my stomach when his eyes met mine. I couldn’t deny the pull dragging me in. Perhaps I would meet a fate like Odysseus when he heard the sirens’ call.
Unlucky for me, I didn’t have a group of men at my call to restrain me to a ship post.
I made it halfway across the room. He followed my movements, unblinking. His brow rose in a challenging way that made my thighs press together. Fingers snared my wrist, yanking me back.
An omega whine caught in my throat, the alpha’s nostrils flaring when the sound reached him.
“Come, Willow,” my dad hissed, summoning me like a dog, snapping me out of my trance.
For a long time, I had hated my father, but at that moment I wanted to slap him, consequences be damned.
I didn’t see the green-eyed alpha the rest of the night. I was disappointed, my omega whimpering at the loss. Part of me thought he had been a figment of my imagination.
One
WILLOW
After a night of exaggeratingly fluttering my lashes, I spent the next day disappearing to one of the few places I felt at peace. Snowfield. The horse rescue I volunteered at. If I wasn’t there, then I went to one of the local shelters, enjoying cuddling up with the dogs.
And right now, all I wanted was to forget the previous night and focus on the skittish stallion.
I always had a talent for dealing with broken things, having an intense understanding and bond with them. When April first brought him to the stables, he kicked and bit at the handlers. I almost preferred that to how withdrawn he had become. The gorgeous black stallion curled up in his stall, his back to everyone.
Most days, I sat with him while he ate, getting him comfortable with my scent. He had been hostile toward the alphas on the farm, indifferent to the betas, but with me, I was the only omega, and he tolerated me.
Barely.
Today, he grazed in the back pasture for the first time, even letting me put a halter on him. I smiled when he didn’t retreat from my touch. It was progress. Slow but steady. Someday, maybe, he would let me ride him. A lustrous shine glimmered on his coat, twinkling in the sunlight now that he was eating more.
He remained nameless.
Like most of the horses the owner rescued, the slaughterhouse didn’t have a name for him. April left that to me. Sometimes I knew right away, but with him, nothing felt right. So instead, I called him my lost boy.
He would tell me his name when he was ready.
Once I arrived home, I instantly missed the fresh air. If I could, I would move outside the city and live near Snowfield.
My father refused to allow it, always keeping his precious omega daughter under his boot. The only reason he continued to let me work at Snowfield, rehabilitating horses, was that it looked good in the press.
Anything to secure a vote. And now that he was leaving the Senate to run for governor, optics were everything.
During his last senatorial re-election campaign, I was in my first year of college and freshly presented as an omega. I hadn’t been completely surprised, considering my mother was one, but I didn’t enjoy how he paraded me around like some prized pony to win votes.
