Page 15 of Alpha's Embrace
“Do you have other information to the contrary?”
“No, sir.” Tory glanced away.
“From now on, he’s to get exercise twice a day. We’ll move on from there, adding to his liberties, maybe, as we see how it goes.”
“Yes, sir.” But he did not look convinced.
“You’re uncomfortable with this?”
“A Sylph running around is disconcerting. You are new here. You’re not an expert on Sylphs yourself.”
“No. But I do hold a degree in psychology.”
“I know. A family therapist.” He almost spit out that information, but I remained calm.
“And?”
“That’s not specifically Sylph psychology,” he countered.
“No.”
He wouldn’t look at me when he said, “You don’t know about them. But I suppose if you want to do this for Misha you’ll learn fast.”
“About?”
“How they are. As I said, their allure.”
“It sounds like you don’t trust yourself,” I challenged.
“I do.” He swallowed hard. “I—I’m happily married. I love my Omega with all my heart.” He nearly hissed when he said the wordOmega. “But Sylphs have a reputation, like they’re magical or something. People say they’re bewitched.”
“You should know better than that having worked here for so many years.”
“I do, but the idea of it is on everyone’s minds. All the time. And the ones in or past puberty do have a powerful allure. People say they can bewitch others. Even here.”
“What people?”
He shrugged.
“Are we locking them away to keep us safe from them, or them from us?”
“Perhaps a bit of both.”
I sighed. “All right, then. You’re dismissed.”
Tory sauntered out of the room.
He wasn’t outright impolite to me, but something about him made me wonder if we were a good match, if we’d ever get along. I needed an assistant I could trust. Someone who would work with me, and not smirk so much. I didn’t know everything, but I didn’t need to be an expert to deal with the day to day paperwork of the colony. I had doctors and psychiatrists as experts to rely on. Their reports were crucial. The problem was Misha. His reports were outdated and incomplete. The last chief’s record-keeping for the entire place from the past few years was abysmal.
Tory needed to understand that but I wasn’t going to sit here and explain and defend myself to him. I didn’t need to. I was the boss and I’d do what I thought appropriate with the expert guidance of my staff.
I spent the rest of the day working, but I could not get the image of Misha sitting at my feet looking up at me with such longing out of my mind. Everywhere I went, everything I did, that image haunted me. His golden curls. His honeyed scent. His beautifully noble jaw and straight nose, his eyes pale as a spring sky, his body long and lithe and tall, like a dancer. Like a ballerino. The quality about him that seemed to shift the air and affect my skin and my mind with electric pulses and maybe an impure thought or two wouldn’t leave me.
I had strange urges to go back to his room and see him again. I tried to tell myself it was because I had a professional concern for him. That it was because I was curious and needed more information to update his files. That continued isolation into adulthood would damage him mentally beyond repair.
In truth, I wanted to look at him again. My mind craved it. His beauty and his plight. My body wanted him. How shallow could I be? I’d looked upon beauty before and not been obsessed. I sated my Burns with gorgeous, wonderful Omegas who treated me well. But nothing made me think of or want them beyond that. I always thought it was because of Mase. Because of my broken heart.
But Misha somehow circumvented all that.
