Her father’s Omegas had had more freedom than this.
“And how many others don’t,” Elena muttered as she shoveda book back onto the shelf, none of the titles holding her interest for long enough to justify taking it back to the sunroom.
It was time to be practical. She was his, and there was no changing that. However he decided to keep her, she couldn’t very well demand something different. Elena would have to succumb to him whenever he wished, heat or no. She’d make do.
Her hands went to her stomach, cupping the fluttering spark held deep within her. It wouldn’t be long before she had something to occupy her days after all. There’d always been nannies in Valente’s house, but maybe Leon could be persuaded to do without one. Elena rather liked the idea of tending to her own child, though she doubted he would appreciate the midnight feedings and diaper changes.
“We’ll see, little one,” she whispered as she turned away from the bookcases to return to the sunroom. At least there she could lounge undisturbed as her melancholy mood shifted and grew darker.
She whiled away the hours doing nothing, bored and frustrated as the time ticked by. The shadows lengthened into afternoon, her foul mood rising on a tide of bitterness when Mrs. Jacobs collected her for lunch.
He didn’t join her then either. Mrs. Jacobs gave her a strained smile but had nothing else to offer when Elena asked where he was. She ate alone and miserable.
Leon didn’t appear until darkness began to seep into the sky, staining the dull grey clouds black. He swept through the door, all impatient arrogance as he snapped at Elena to get up and dressed.
“Why?” Elena didn’t move from the chaise, feet curled up tight under her as she stared at the pages of a book without seeing a word.
“We’re going to have dinner at my father’s,” Leon said, snapping his fingers in front of her face.
Startling her into dropping the book, he gripped her arm and pulled her from the chair, giving Elena a scant moment to get her feet under her before he was propelling her through the house and up the stairs.
“You’ll wear something nice,” he continued as he pushed her towards the closet. “I’ll not have you embarrassing me tonight.”
Elena stopped and turned back to look at him, lips parting as she took a breath to rail at him. She knew how to dress, how to act the part. How dare he insinuate otherwise!
“Are you truly so incapable,” he ground out, snatching a sleek gray dress from its hanger. Shoving it into her arms, he pushed her shoulder to turn Elena around so that he could get at her zipper.
“I can dress myself,” Elena growled, shying away from his callous touch to wedge her back against the wall, the cold plaster kissing her heated flesh.
Then she took a moment to actually look at what he’d handed her. Sleeveless with thin straps, it would show off the bandage like the white flag of surrender that it was. Brows knitting, she looked to him once more, shaking her head.
“You will wear it,” he snarled, taking a menacing step forward.
“You can’t expect me to go around flaunting it,” Elena exclaimed as she backpedaled into the line of clothes to avoid him.
“How are you so naïve,” Leon muttered as he grabbed her, wrenching her dress off. Before Elena could contemplate his next move, he had the other dress over her head, tugging it down hard enough that the strap bit deep into her wounded shoulder. “You will do as I say.”
Elena crumpled from the agony sheeting through her chest, scarce able to breathe around it as he pulled her arms throughthe openings and yanked the zipper up on the side. Without waiting for Elena to uncurl from her pained huddle, he bent to grasp her around the thighs, carrying her to the bathroom where he set her down in front of the vanity.
“Now finish getting ready. I don’t want to be late,” he said, wiping away a single tear that had escaped her clenched lids with his thumb.
Elena sniffed hard, waiting until the door closed behind him before she unfurled from the dissipating pain in her shoulder. Her hands shook as she retrieved what little makeup she wore, having to steady her hand twice before she could apply the thin bands of liner to her lashes.
He was so very cruel to her, whether she instigated these exchanges or not. Leon cared nothing for her comfort, always bashing his way in and expecting her to know exactly what to do to please him. There were no explanations, no rules laid out for her.
“Except one,” Elena muttered to her reflection as she swept the pale gray shadow over her lids.
Her resolve to be more practical about her interactions with him had flown out of the window before it’d even fully formed. Something about him dug under her skin, gnawing at her no matter what she decided.
That honeyed voice whispered sweet lies to her, that her Alpha was protective of her. Of his child. Elena bowed her head after applying lipstick, hand pressed hard to her belly. It was all she was to him. A good time that had a chance of becoming an incubator for his child.
Clenching her teeth over a quiet sob, Elena leaned her head back and blinked away the tears that threatened to undo her work. She knew what Omegas were. Had grown up in their shadow, always knowing what was destined for her. It shouldn’t matter that it was Leon Marchetti who had stolen that role. He’d never once had a nice word to say to her, but she’d beengood enough for him to mate, and that was a damn sight more than she’d had before.
Elena had been a stain on society after her father’s death. She’d had no options, no recourse for any kind of life lest she find a man who would be willing to take her in. Not so very long ago, she’d resigned herself to the fact she would never be anything more than a lesser Omega in a large household. Someone who could bear the brunt of her stigma with little effect to their own standing. Now she was the first, and pregnant besides. If she gave Leon an Alpha heir, all the better.
So why then did her heart twist at the very idea, caught up in the sticky tendrils of that sweet voice?
“Elena,” Leon called from beyond the door, a warning rumble painting the edges of her name.
