Not because he was an Omega. Because he was still trying to exist inside a space that had never been built for softness.
It’d take time for his true self to be revealed. Time and patience and encouragement.
Any Alpha that ended up with Charles would be lucky.
“You must be tired,” I turned, facing him once more. It’d been a long day for me. Maybe he needed time to himself, I thought. Time to look at the book or watch TV or just to go to bed early.
At my words, Charles stood up silently. His eyes flashed to the book before bouncing to me. then his gaze went to the floor as he folded his hands behind his back.
“You can take the book. There’s a toothbrush under the sink, along with any other things you may need. Feel free to take a shower tonight or in the morning.”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
The words were rushed out, as though he feared I’d change my mind. He quickly picked up the book, hiding it behind himself.
I barely contained my smile at his reaction. I knew without a doubt that he’d never had anything of his own before, just like Adrian.
It wasn’t permitted at boarding houses, but still seemed unfair.
“Go ahead,” I said quietly. “I’ll see you in the morning. You can leave the door open or shut it. Whichever feels right to you.”
He didn’t move at first. Just stood there, eyes flicking over me like he was waiting for the catch.
I wasn’t sure what the rules were for bedrooms at Lockswell House, and I didn’t ask. Some things were better left undefined.
Charles dipped his head in acknowledgment, then turned sharply on his heel.
His steps were so light, so practiced, that I didn’t hear a single sound as he vanished around the corner.
Only the faint shift of air remained, like he’d taken the silence with him.
I exhaled a long breath, and with it my shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t expected to be so worried, so stressed, over the fact of having an Omega in the house. Others had made it seem and appear so easily.
Glancing at the clock, it was just after nine. The sun had already set, casting shadows through the house where the light didn’t touch.
Normally, I’d be getting ready for bed, my thoughts clouded with work. Unless it was the off Saturday where I decided to seek solitude among likeminded people. Those days weren’t often, despite how much Moore tried to get me to go out.
I didn’t mind the quiet, nor the empty house. It wasn’t like I was home often enough to remember how lonesome it could become.
Growing up, the house was mostly quiet. And when it wasn’t, I wished it was.
My father wasn’t cruel at least not in the way people define it. But he wasn’t built to be a father either.
He chased perfection like it owed him something. Perfect grades. Perfect posture. Perfect wife. Perfect son.
Anything less was a flaw. And flaws didn’t belong in his house.
When I fell short—and I always did—his belt or his fists filled in the gaps.
Not out of rage. Out of disappointment.
Being born an Alpha wasn’t enough for him. I had to earn it. And no matter how hard I tried, I never did.
My father taught me that being Alpha meant control. Not just over yourself, but over everything that moved beneath you.
Omegas weren’t people in his eyes. They were roles. Functions. Proof that dominance worked.
It was in the way he spoke to my mother. The way he corrected my posture. The way he looked at Omegas like they were born to be reminders of what power looked like when it behaved.
