“The Lockswell Residence is known to do that to our kind.” The Omega spoke, soft and sure. He didn’t stutter over the words, nor did he seem scared to speak his mind. But there was sadness underneath it, runninglike a current of a slow-moving river. “They force Omegas to act a certain way, Moore.”
“It doesn’t make seeing it happen in front of me like night and day any easier, love,” the Alpha replied with a huff.
My thoughts slipped backward as they spoke, repeating things I already knew, things I’d lived.
This Alpha knew me? Maybe. Probably. My only guess was that he’d been a client once.
One client bled into the next, their voices, their hands, their rules.
None of them stood out. Not because they were gentle. But because they were all the same. They each wanted similar things from me.
It wasn’t my words or my thoughts. No.
It was my body, and they each tore a piece of it out of me, bit by bit, like pieces of lint.
I was left with the broken pieces that needed to be sewn back together, but that’d never happen.
But then, a flicker. Not a face. Not a name.
A scent. Cedarwood and smoke. Sharp. Masculine.
It clung to the sheets long after he left.
He never spoke much. Just one phrase, always the same, right before he touched me.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
I hadn’t realized I was looking at him at all. But that phase had stuck in my brain. Not because it hurt. But because it was the only thing that ever felt personal.
It was as though he knew what I was, knew that my choices had been stripped from me.
I watched him from under my lashes. Not with curiosity. Not with fear. Just… with purpose.
He looked like every other Alpha I’d met over the years. Black hair pulled off his face. His muscles were filled out like he never had to watch his weight. He was put together, even in black slacks and a matching shirt, not a wrinkle out of place.
He answered a question, but his eyes flickered to me, catching my gaze. I kept my eyes on him, knowing and daring for the Alpha beside me to smack me, to do something. I tilted my head the way I used to. An action that had yet to be beaten out of me.
He shifted. Not much. Just a flicker in his jaw.
“Don’t look at me like that.” His eyes squinted, like he was trying to read my mind. Just like he did those handful of times he’d visit me.
The words hit like a slap made of memory. But I didn’t flinch. I remembered how each time he came to rent me for my body, he used it less and less. He just sat there, like he was now, and touched me gently. Kindly, almost. Like I had mattered.
I smiled. Just like I used to when he’d show up and greet me as I kneeled before him, waiting just the way he always liked me.
Whatever Alpha Harris was saying was cut off. I knew instantly that I had messed up, but right at that moment, I didn’t care. I couldn’t when the one Alpha that made me feel like I mattered, like I could be cared about, was in the same room as I was. The small fact that the Omega from upstairs sat right next to him, leaning against the arm of the Alpha.
I should look away. I should do anything but what I did.
Maybe I was searching for the pain to begin. Maybe I wanted a way out and this nice man across the room would give me just that.
Whatever the reasons, my words came out before I could stop them. I went by memories alone, remembering things that stood out in this Alpha’s rules. Not the rules of the one I currently belong to.
He shifted again. Just slightly. Like something in him recognized the moment but couldn’t place it.
“You used to say that,” I said, voice low. “Every time. Right before you touched me.”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t remember.”
