Page 7 of Trust No Alpha
Tears streamed down my face.
All Poe did by way of comfort was hand me a towel. How kind.
I stood, my robe falling about my body like a death shroud more than an expensive cover-up now.
I didn’t know what to do.
Both Poe and I waited for Father to come away from the window and give us his orders.
Finally, he moved and turned toward us, but he never looked at me, never met my eyes. “You will run more tests. You will provide me with the results immediately.”
“Yes, I will,” Poe said. “I have his blood. I have other samples he provided before coming in here today. I will let you know as soon as I have officially confirmed my findings.”
“Kris, you may leave now. Go directly to your room. Do not come out until I say.”
“Father--”
“Go! Now!” Father rarely yelled. But he’d already yelled twice in five minutes. This louder tone was what let us know, as children, when he was displeased, or when discipline was on its way.
I couldn’t help my emotions. Sobs escaped my throat as I ran for the door, my robe flailing behind me.
I opened it and fled into the hall where Trigg, Mica and Bren still waited.
“Hey, Kris--” Trigg began.
I ignored their curiosity and their looks and stares as I ran down the hall toward the sunlight, such a bitter yellow now as it washed against the clean walls and wood floors. I tried to keep from wailing aloud, but I wanted to scream until my voice echoed throughout the massive rooms that comprised the Vandergale Mansion. Once my home. Now my prison. My hell.
When I reached my room, all done up in frothy blues—my favorite color—I collapsed on the soft comforters of my bed. I buried my face and the tears wet my pillows. For a long time I thought I would never breathe right again. I thought I would surely die of this mortification, this death sentence to all the dreams I had for my life. I was doomed. And there was the horrific chance that Father would ship me off to the chattel farms.
I wanted to die. What did I have left but the pain and humiliation from all I’d held dear?
I clutched my pillows for dear life and rocked myself, but it did little to soothe me.
After awhile, I felt too weak to cry, too dried out. Dehydrated and depleted, I finally calmed enough to begin to think a little clearer about my predicament.
I sat up, straightening my robe around me. My first thoughts were for comfort alone. Maybe Father wouldn’t send me away. He did love me after all. I was still his beautiful son. Still smart. Maybe I had value and he would keep me here to work with him, to help him in his business.
I had a lot to offer other than my failure to be a perfect, unflawed Alpha for my father to brag about.
Yes. After Father got over the shock of my diagnosis, he would help me. He would see that I was productive and useful. He’d never send me away. I couldn’t imagine it!
I dried my tears on the sleeve of my robe.
I stood and entered my bathroom, turning on the shower. The lube from my exam was sticky now. I needed it off me, along with the touch of that sadist, Poe.
As I stepped into the shower, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Golden and sleek. Tall and broad shouldered. Muscles in all the right places. Alpha in every sense of the word. Yet inside me was something that had betrayed me. Something that had been there all my life and gone unnoticed. Omega organs. Atrophied but still there. Still Omega.
I didn’t feel different. I didn’t look different. But everything had changed.
When the warm water hit my skin, I felt relief for the first time in hours. The water cascaded over me creating a safe cocoon of liquid, a respite, a haven. I stayed under that fall of warmth for longer than usual, letting my body relax, forcing myself to keep my wits about me.
I needed everything I had going for me now to weather this. My strength of body as well as mind. My leadership qualities. My conviction and fortitude that I was still worthy as a human being.
But a sad little voice quipped inside of me. Was I worthy? Was I nothing more than chattel now? Or worse, for even chattel had a purpose. They could bear young.
I never would. I would not seed young, either, for it was taboo for an Omega to lie with another Omega. Maybe they did it more often than people liked to think, using protection, but if caught it was a scandal. And if the union bore children, they were said to be monsters. Sylphs, they were called. Some were so monstrous they were put to death at birth, although I wasn’t sure why.
I left the warmth of the shower and dressed in a crisp, white shirt and brown wool trousers.
