Page 18 of The Alpha's Fake Mate
Leave us alone!
I didn’t re-read what I wrote. I clicked send so hard I thought I’d broken the mouse.
Afterward, I sent a brief email to Chirl telling him I had, indeed, sent in my questionnaire.
Like the good little Omega I was supposed to be.
*
One of the boys I didn’t know very well from the dorms furthest from my own, came through the dining hall with a stacks of mail.
Most of the time, none of us new adults got anything. Sometimes, if Alphas were trying to court an Omega, they sent more than texts or emails, stuff like cards, little gifts or flowers. To be claimed by an Alpha who wanted to attempt the mate-bond was the goal. The dream. Most of us pined away our whole lives waiting for that to happen.
The percentage of Omegas here at Zilly’s who found bondmates was high. There weren’t many who stayed on past the age of thirty. Those who did stay often entered into service here. Warden, therapist, house-dad, to name a few of the spaces that were filled by older Omegas.
The boy with the mail passed by me where I sat alone finishing my lunch of baked chicken and a green salad.
“Holland,” he said casually, and a white envelope fluttered to the tabletop and settled next to my right hand.
“What?” I snarled. It wasn’t that I meant to be impolite to him, but in fact he had startled me.
The boy continued on as if he didn’t hear my question.
Frowning, I picked up the envelope. In curly, neat handwriting was my name printed right in the center.Holland.No stamp. No return address. Nothing to indicate where the mail had originated.
I lifted the edge to my nose to see if it held any scent, only to realize how paranoid that seemed. I breathed in clean paper scent, a bit woodsy, nothing more.
Slowly, I opened the flap and pulled out a folded letter.
When I opened it, I saw it was handwritten in the same script my name had been scrawled, not typed and printed out as most letters would be. But written with a pen. And not so little flourish.
The ink was dark blue.
The first line below the date read, again:Holland.
Quickly, I glanced at the bottom of the letter.
The signature, larger than the rest with wider drawn letters and big O’s, readOrion.
A throb began in my temples. Something light and airy seemed to bubble up in my chest. A tickling sensation that was almost pain but not quite.
Why would the new owner be writing to me? The Alpha who had dragged me off in my dreams was someone I’d hoped to forget. But I couldn’t forget he was too young to know what he owned in Zilly’s, and that thought he was doing Omegas a favor by asking them questions pertaining to their needs.
I wanted to laugh out loud. I wanted to tear the paper in my hand into little bits and scatter them like confetti about the room. But my eyes drew toward the body of the letter and couldn’t help but begin to read.
Holland:
Your essay caught my eye, and then I remembered you. From the front room where we were introduced to the crowd. And from the pool area. I remember your boldness. Your discontent.
Your warden had given me your name.
How could I forget such a spirited man? Someone who dared to tell me the truth?
I would like to open a discourse with you about Zilly’s and the improvements I intend to make. If you have the time.
I sensed discomfort upon our first meeting, so I understand if you would not wish to meet face to face for further discussion.
Email will be fine. My address is:
