I am a lamb, and this is the wolf.
“Jude,” Mr. Sterling rumbles, his voice a deep vibration that seems to resonate in my bones. He doesn’t move to shake my hand. Why would he? Property doesn’t shake hands.
“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” my father says, a triumphant smirk playing on his lips. He claps the other alpha on the shoulder, a gesture of easy familiarity between monsters. “I trust you not to get too handsy with him just yet. You have to wait until after the mating ceremony for that.”
Leave us alone?
For a split second, I think Father is joking. Maybe testing him, or me. But he’s already turning toward the door.
A cold, sharp panic slices through me, and for one humiliating second I meet his eyes, silently ask him not to do this.
But I don’t say it out loud.
Because good omegas don’t question their alphas or make a scene.
Good omegas do what they’re told.
“I promise to behave,” Mr. Sterling laughs, and Father winks, then he turns his back and slips into the hallway.
The heavy click of the door echoes like the sealing of a tomb that makes my heart plummet.
The second he’s sure we’re alone, Mr. Sterling shifts his weight, and the subtle movement feels enormous. The room suddenly seems smaller, the air thicker. I’m hyperaware of the distance between me and the door, of how broad Mr. Sterling’s shoulders are, and how easily he could block the exit without even trying.
“Jude.” Mr. Sterling’s smile is gone as he turns his big body to face me.
My breath catches in my throat, and I can’t stop the way my body curls inward, my shoulders hunching, trying to make myself invisible.
Then the alpha moves.
It’s not a walk. It’s a prowl. A slow, deliberate stalk. Each step is soundless, predatory, and the room seems to shrink as he gets closer.
My heart hammers against my ribs, and my hands shake.The urge to run is so strong.
“Look at me.” He stops directly in front of my chair, a beast of a man, blotting out the light.
I have to crane my neck back, back, back to see his face. The angle is humiliating. It makes me feel tiny and incredibly fragile.
“You look very short,” he says. His voice is low, a quiet rumble that holds more absolute authority than my father’s loudest shout. “Stand up.”
My body instantly obeys, scrambling to comply before my mind can protest. My legs feel like jelly, my thin frame trembling.
I am so much smaller than this man, and so pathetically weak. His shadow swallows me whole.
A large, rough hand comes up to cup my cheek, the thumb rough against my skin. I flinch, a full-body shudder of revulsion and fear.
I can’t help it.
I know I’m supposed to be pleasing and friendly right now, but I’m just too scared.
Mr. Sterling chuckles, a dark, gravelly sound. “Frightened, little omega?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.” His other hand moves, landing heavily onmy hip. He squeezes, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of my stomach, right over the slight curve I hate so much. “Soft,” he growls, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that makes my stomach turn. “I like ‘em soft.”
I hold my breath.
I want to scream, to run, to sink into the floor and disappear. But I can’t move. My father would be so angry if I even attempted to reject this alpha. He’d scream, maybe even hit me.
He’d never forgive me.
Mr. Sterling’s hand slides down my hip, over the swell of my backside, groping me through the thin fabric of my shorts. He hums, silently approving of what he feels.
