Page 29 of Sold to Three Alpha Kings

I raise the vile and shove it down my throat. “It’s old news that my wolf isn’t entirely dead. My village healer told me that a long time ago. What I don’t understand is why I reacted to the Kings’ pheromones the way I did.”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because you’re an Omega,” he says. “Not just any Omega. Their fated mate.”

The confirmation of what I’d thought earlier comes crashing on me. They rejected me as a mate because they thought I was shiftless, but I’m an Omega now.

He studies me for a moment. “Whether your wolf fully wakes, how strong it becomes if it does—that depends on time. Care. Rest you clearly haven’t had in years.”

I laugh, and it comes out bitter, broken at the edges. “Rest. In the Kings’ palace. As their prisoner.”

“As their intended,” he corrects gently. “You keep forgetting what you are. The Kings’ fated mate.”

I go very still.

“They don’t intend anything for me,” I blurt out. “I heard what one of them said. Wolfless, weak, not worth the trouble.” The words come sharp to hide my hurting heart.

He watches in silence.

“They didn’t want me, so whatever this is, it’s not acceptance.”

“That’s not true,” he says, his voice quiet and strangely soothing.

The healer stomps his staff three times on the floor and then leaves me standing there, confused.

I drop onto the edge of the soft bed and cup my face in my palms. My heart is heavy with a mix of emotions. Anger. Sadness. And something else I haven’t named yet.

Tears sting my eyes, and I cry, eventually, because I spent twenty-four years certain I’d never belong on the Star island. I thought I’d never be a real wolf, never be wanted or accepted by their kind.

Now some old healer with kind eyes is telling me that I’m Omega and I could actually fit in the one place I resent the most. I’m not sure I want to fit in.

I’m not sure how I feel about being an Omega, about being the Alpha Kings’ intended.

I curl myself up under the sheets, my head resting on an actual pillow—soft and comfy. Tears stream down my cheeks as I lay there, thinking about this drastic turn of events.

What am I going to do now?

That uncertainty sits heavily in my chest, weighing me down.

***

The next morning, I wake up to the sound of chirping birds outside and the rays of the rising sun streaming in through the window. Its golden glow is warm against my skin, and my eyes flutter before finally opening.

I haven’t had such a peaceful night since I can remember. Even though I stayed up late sulking in bed, the second I fell asleep, I didn’t wake up until now.

Here, there’s no stepmother to barge into my small room—if that tiny cubicle passes as a room—and yell at me for being such a bag of lazy bones.

Am I actually free?

I comb my fingers through my hair and sit on the edge of the bed, bare feet on the cool, polished floor.

A knock on the door startles me. It’s soft and gentle. Yet unexpected. My head snaps toward the door as I wonder why whoever’s out there hasn’t come in already.

Instead, they knock again.

I’m so used to my privacy being invaded all the time that I don’t remember it’s common courtesy to knock and wait to be asked to come in first.

Oh! They’re awaiting my permission.

“My lady,” a familiar voice calls softly from behind the door. “Are you awake?”