I wasn’t sure how long I stayed like that, moving from one task to the next, letting the morning unfold around me. It was long enough that the rightness in me settled. The ability to serve but doing it in a way that wasn’t seen, wasn’t calculated, helped to ease the uncertainty of being here.
It was long enough that I could almost believe that this could be a new normal to start every day, if Alpha Evander wished for me.
I tidied up the living room. Fluffed one pillow. Put away a forgotten cup. Straightened the coffee table.
I was running a wet cloth across the kitchen countertop when there was a soft creak from the room where Evander was. Then the muted thump of the door closed.
He was awake.
Just the thought of the Alpha waking up, starting his day, caused my heart to pick up speed.
Would he be pleased with my actions? Would he punish me for not staying in the bedroom?
I forced my feet to keep moving, to keep my hands busy and mind off what ifs. Because whatever happened was going to happen either way.
I moved through the kitchen like someone trying not to disturb the air itself. Every step was measured; every breath was quiet. The house was sleeping, and I didn’t dare wake it up.
I hovered near the edge of the kitchen at first, running out of things to tidy up. I was unsure of where I fit here. The counters were too white. The floor was too bright.
This place wasn’t where I ever thought I’d see myself.
I wanted to be back in the kitchen I had brief memories of. The dark blue cupboards. The dark floor that showed all the flour that was somehow always spilt. That was the kitchen that felt like home.
Not this one.
I stopped near the fridge, my hands tucked close to my sides. I knew how to cook, I had to learn, had to take turns on kitchen duty. Because the Alphas would want an Omega who could cook. But that didn’t mean I enjoyed it. I’d rather bake. Cookies and cakes. And sweet, yummy treats. That, I could spend days doing it.
But I had to make real food. Something that gave my body the nutrients it needed to stay strong enough to survive for a little longer.
I just didn’t know what to make. I didn’t know if I was allowed yet, trusted to not poison this Alpha’s food.
I scanned the kitchen, making a mental list of what there was. Eggs, bread, and some fruit. Milk.
More than enough items to throw an omelet together, at least.
I easily found what I needed to make just that.
I pulled out a bowl to mix the eggs, a knife to cut up some veggies and some sort of leftover meat from the fridge, and a pan to cook it all in.
I could do this.
Ihadto make myself useful somehow. And since I was pretty sure that the Alpha wouldn’t want me kneeling on the floor beside his bed, or in front of his door for that matter, this was hopefully the next step in the right direction.
I just got the first omelet started when Evander’s voice went through the space. It was sleepy, rough around the edges as sleep clung to his tone.
“Morning, sweetheart.”
I couldn’t speak; my words stuck in my throat. Instead, I kept my eyes on the pan, hoping that the batter wouldn’t splash across my bare skin.
I was tempted to fall to my knees right there; breakfast be dammed. My knees ached already thinking of doing just that.
Evander’s voice came from behind me, warm and rough with sleep. “I figured you’d be asleep.”
The words hit harder than they should have. My throat tightened and the reply flickered through my mind.Same with you, sir.It stayed locked behind my teeth. I kept my mouth shut, jaw tight, eyes on the pan like it was the only safe thing in the room.
Evander rounded the small island, steps slow, unhurried. He stopped beside me and let out a long breath.
My stomach dropped. My legs went shaky, and my mind whispered thatyou messed up. You did something wrong. Fix it.
