Page 29 of The Alpha's Fake Mate
We stared at each other. We hadn’t really spoken since I’d yelled at him.
He peered around my shoulder. “It’s nice,” he said. “A whole office all your own and you’re not even nineteen yet.”
“I suppose.”
“The new owner. Orion. He did this.”
“Yeah, well, go figure. I sent him a nasty email and this is the result. You should try it.”
Harly’s face changed, and I saw that look. The pity. The sorry-for-me gaze I hated. I started to have second thoughts about this job. Did Harly see this as a pity-office? Did they all?
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I said gruffly, and turned away. I heard his footsteps recede down the hall.
*
Over the next weeks, Orion got a lot of things accomplished on the farm based on wish lists I organized. We had roof repairs done. The kitchen ovens which were very old were all replaced. The school rooms were newly painted. And out on the yard by the Children’s Wing, they all got a new playground. He also granted a wish we all thought would never happen unless or until we met our true bondmates: He bought all the twelve-and-olders their own pairs of jeans.
Blue jeans ruled. Seeing actors on TV wearing them, or models in magazines, created a passion for them. Everyone wanted them. Alphas bought them for their Omega mates on the outside, and we saw evidence of it in the media. The Omegas on TV looked good. We wanted to be just like they were, happy, mated, safe and cared for, and wearing jeans.
Boxes of brand new blue jeans in all sizes arrived at the farm.
We were allowed to wear them on weekends unless we were summoned to the mating hall. Then it was back to the uniform: black slacks, white shirt.
I saw a glimmer of change in the attitudes of others on the farm after Orion became the new owner.
Growing up here, we knew nothing else. We had perfectly fine childhoods raised in groups by kind, unbonded Omegas who loved children. We were loved in that all our needs were met. We formed sibling relationships and friendships in our groups. Our Omega nannies tucked us into our beds at night.
Until we became teenagers, we hadn’t realized the limitations of our world yet.
As we got older and understood what being Omega meant in the greater sense, some embraced it. But some of us suffered more than others. Depression made its dark rounds. Some got counseling. Some got drugs.
None of that happened to me. I’d been good. Obedient. Ready for my first mating. I was taught I would respond to the Alpha Burn with a chemical response of my own that would make me ready and want sex. I would feel great pleasure, and I looked forward to it.
But the darkness of the world, and the limited outlooks for those who were born Omegas, crashed down on me all at once
Reality changed for me. Or maybe it had always been the same reality but I had not looked at it face on. I had not fully comprehended how small my world really was, and how unsafe even on the farm.
But since Orion came, more Omegas smiled often. An electricity filled the air. People were more energetic. Upbeat.
I didn’t dare have any hopes for myself beyond the farm, but I did enjoy wearing my new pair of jeans.
Orion wanted reports on everything. I kept myself cool and distant, and sent him the bare facts. Yes, the kids liked the new playground. Yes, everyone was excited about getting jeans for the first time ever.
He always wrote me in a polite and positive way about my terse reports. He never criticized.
Holland:
I am very happy to do what I can to make life at the farm better.
I’m gratified to hear you all enjoyed the gift of blue jeans. I had not realized jeans might be such a coveted item.
And the new playground is a hit? Good!
Repairs to the roof are finished and I will get a crew to start on replacing the old and cracked windows in the south wing.
I was wondering if, after all this success, you might like to celebrate.
I could send a car to pick you up and we could go out to dinner.
