Page 7 of The Alpha's Fake Mate
“Like anyone your age, you don’t dream to be mate-bonded?”
“Did you?” I shot back, knowing he was un-mated and alone. Knowing I was being rude.
Calmly, Sen replied. “I did. It never happened for me. None found me compatible.”
I lowered my eyelids. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Not all Omegas need an Alpha to feel complete.”
I sat straighter. “You believe that?”
He nodded.
“Maybe I could get more schooling. Like you did.”
“It’s rare for Omegas to be accepted into higher learning programs, even online ones. Half don’t ever graduate.”
“Yeah, because they get pregnant, or told they’re dumb or something. I know all that.”
“There’s nothing wrong with falling in love. Nothing wrong with getting pregnant.”
“Yeah? Well I don’t believe in love. Everything’s hormones and chemicals. It’s not real.”
“Have you always believed that way?”
Stupid question. I didn’t want to answer because thinking about my former dreams hurt too much. Whenever I looked at my past self and my childhood hopes, I saw rubble.
“You’re not going to answer that question? Or you can’t?”
“I can.”
Sen waited.
“I was naïve. Just like all the others. What you teach us here, it’s wrong. Do you ever have a conscience about that?”
Sen leaned forward. “What happened to you is a crime. It’s not a normal occurrence. You can only see your world through that filter now, and no one is blaming you for that. All I can do is make you aware of that fact. I can’t heal you. I can, however, assist you in healing yourself. You may never be ready or you may be ready tomorrow, but I am here for you.”
Here for me. Every other day now. It was his job. It was bullshit.
I looked up at the clock on the wall above shelves of musty, old-looking books. Four minutes and our time would be up. I was counting them down. I wanted to leave.
Our sessions felt useless to me. Sure, Sen was nice. His words and advice made sense. My rational self understood them clearly. But I couldn’t make my deeper self abide. I couldn’t stop the pure outrage that ruled me even in my sleep when I would startle awake and stare at the darkness for hours, unable to find peace.
After the attack, how could I not hate what I was? And all Omegas, for that matter. How could they continue to be meek and take only what was offered, and accept their subservient roles as if nature intended it?
The attack not only changed me, it woke me. I didn’t know if I could ever go back to sleep and trudge through this world as a breeder, a servant and nothing more.
I heard Sen talking but it was all a background drone to my unending anger. A few times, Sen tried to make me understand my anger as grief.
“Grief for what?” I’d asked.
“All you have lost.”
“What did I ever have in the first place?” I had replied.
No. Sen would never make me see anger as grief. Because it wasn’t. I was outraged, insulted and demoralized. I had been tortured and almost died.
What grief?
