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Gritting my teeth, I resigned myself to washing myself as she watched, commenting when I wasn’t cleaning myself hard enough. The rough fabric of the cloth abraded my sensitive skin as I scrubbed it harder between my folds. She wasn’t satisfied until I was raw between my legs and every last trace of my perfume disappeared down the drain with whatever remained of my pride.
She pushed a razor into my palm next, watching as I shaved away the wispy hairs that had grown back in the week since I’d showered. The High Alpha demanded his wives—and by default me—be bare from the neck down. Even my forearms had to be rid of any hair.
I dropped the razor to the bottom of the shower, the only mutiny I could muster. Even still, Miriam lifted every limb to inspect it for errant hairs. I gritted my teeth when she nudged my thighs apart to check my pussy. Rough fingers stabbed between my folds, and I clenched my teeth against a snarl. With an annoyed nod, she accepted I was to the High Alpha’s standards. Only then did she turn off the shower and hurl a towel at my head.
I quickly dried, wanting to be done with the humiliating experience. It wasn’t the first time Miriam had watched me shower or inspected my cleanliness, and I highly doubted it would be the last. Especially after my escape attempt, the High Alpha hadn’t left me alone at all unless I was locked in my room. And even then, there was usually a guard stationed outside.
Learning to shit with someone watching me had taken a sledgehammer to what was left of my modesty. If it wasn’t one of the beta guards, the wives, or the High Alpha himself, someone was always there. I was never alone, and it frustrated me to no end. Even locked away, Logan was with me. There was never a moment for me to break down in private, and I wouldn’t give these assholes the satisfaction of breaking me.
No fucking way.
Once I dried off with the scratchy towel, she shoved the usual white muslin dress over my body. Damp spots made the already thin fabric sheer in places as my hair dripped down my back in a tangled mess.
I would’ve killed for a pair of leggings, an oversized sweater, and my bottle of It’s a 10 leave in conditioner.
Shuffling around Miriam, I stepped up to the sink at the small counter to brush my teeth. After days of being chained up, I needed to get the yuck out of my mouth. It was absolutely disgusting, and I scoured my teeth with the toothbrush while looking in the mirror. Miriam stepped up behind me with a brush and started ripping it through my hair.
I winced at the pull on my scalp at the first pass of the brush, but quickly compartmentalized the pain like I usually did. I folded it up, tucked it into an iron chest my mind had built, locked the pain inside, and tossed it off a cliff into the ocean. Having the freedom and clarity to separate myself a little from this reality was a relief. My heat had twisted my ability to do that, to think rationally and clearly.
Yet another check mark in the column for reasons why being an omega sucked hairy donkey dick.
It made me weak, and I hated it more than the bitch behind me trying to yank my hair out.
Miriam huffed as she brushed my hair, annoyed that she’d yet again been given the task of making me perfect and presentable for the High Alpha. As much as I despised him, Miriam loved him. Worshiped him.
When I’d first been brought into the High Alpha’s household, I’d actually felt bad for her. It was easy to see that Miriam had devoted her life to a man who used her like a servant and a whore. She’d endured newer, shinier models of wives being paraded in front of her for over a decade now, and she’d been given the task of keeping them beautiful for her husband.
Her emotions had calcified over the years, leaving her hard and bitter. She couldn’t take out her rage on the man who’d earned it, so she took it out on his wives and the other women in the cult, exerting the limited control she had like a whip, cracking it over the heads of those beneath her.
The brush snagged in a particularly matted section of my hair, the result of rolling my head around a sweat-soaked pillow for nearly a week. My eyes watered at the sudden flare of pain, my gaze jerking up to my reflection in the mirror over the sink.
My reddish-gold hair was dark from the shower, the ends just starting to dry. Despite the discount shampoo, hard water, and Miriam’s attempt to rip out the strands at the roots, my omega genes gave the drying bits of my hair a soft shine. I knew that by the time it was dry, my hair would look like it was ready for a hair care commercial.
Omega DNA was weird. Like my entire being was covered by the kind of filter I’d used on social media back when I’d had access to luxuries like phones and the internet. But my genetics did what they were supposed to do—make me look appealing to the world in the hopes of catching the attention of an alpha.
It was why after a week of hell, my skin was still soft. My cheeks had a rosy flush that offset the smattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose. My eyes were a mossy green with gold rings around my pupils. The hazel color was why my parents had picked my name.
I’d lost weight since coming to the commune, and even more from barely eating the last six days. It made my already slim frame a little more skeletal, but I still had full, high breasts and a rounded ass and hips. Things that would make me attractive to a potential mate or pack.
If I thought taking a knife to my flesh would deter the High Alpha, I’d have smashed the mirror and used a shard to slice and dice every inch of my pale skin to ribbons. But unless I could manage to sew my vagina shut, there wouldn’t be any deterring him. Especially not when omegas were already rare, and I knew for a fact there had never been an omega as part of the commune.
Lucky me, I’d been hidden in a damn off the grid compound for alpha worshipping psychos when my designation made itself known. The High Alpha declared I was the long awaited prophecy they had been praying for. A harbinger of the glorious future to come for the chosen few.
Yeah, I threw up a little in my mouth, too, when I heard that.
But I’d been given a pass until my first heat since my omega body technically wasn’t sexually mature until after it. I’d spent three damn years dreading my heat.
Now it had come and gone.
Which meant the clock hanging over my head to be married to the High Alpha, and more disgustingly, bonded and bred to him, had jumped forward significantly.
Water dripped from the shower behind me. The ominously metered plop of water droplets sounded like time ticking down, marching me toward the hell of my future.
Miriam set the brush aside and started twisting my hair back into a severe braid, her fingers moving with deft practice through my heavy mane. She tied it off with a rubber band and tossed the braid over my shoulder, the ends almost poking me in the eye. Her cold, flat brown eyes glared at me in the reflection as her upper lip curled. “You’re finished, omega.”
I kept my expression stoic, knowing better than to react.
Her brows raised. “Nothing to say?” Her features twisted into a scowl. “You should consider your position a blessing.”
