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CHAPTER 43
OLIVE
I never thoughtshock and stress would come in handy.
But it turns out, in fight-or-flight mode, my Heat isn’t as intense.
I’ve been on alert since day one in this hellhole, and despite being around many Alphas, I’ve been able to keep my arousal in check.
It’s not easy. I stuff my panties with pads and change them every two hours.
My clit throbs and my nipples pebble painfully at every cocktail hour, desperate to be touched.
But the anxiety keeps my inner Omega at bay, deathly terrified of what will happen if I give in to my desires.
By Saturday, though, things are different.
I’m a live wire, ready to combust. My assistant, Lindsay, notices it when she welcomes me in the morning, wheeling in a clothing rack.
“You alright?”
I double over on the bed, a cramp knocking the wind out of me.
“This always happens,” she sighs, sitting next to me and opening her makeup kit. “Most girls make it to the end of the week, then this happens.”
“What do you mean?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“You can make this pleasurable,” she adds. “You don’t have to fight it the whole time. That’s what your body wants anyway, right? To have an Alpha? Why put yourself through this if it’s just easier to enjoy it?”
There’s no malice behind her words. It’s a genuine question, which somehow makes it worse.
“Lindsay,” I say quietly. “I’m not a fuck toy.”
She winces. “I didn’t mean it like that, I—”
“But that’s why I am here,” I say. “And that’s what you all think we are. We’re designed to be used however Alphas see us fit.”
She frowns. “No, Olive—”
“No, Lindsay, just shut the fuck up and listen!” I yell at her, and she jerks back, shocked. I wrap my arms around my knees and take in deep breaths, willing the ache to go away. “Why do you think they startedEden?”
“They told us you like it,” she says, confused.
“Who?” I ask. “Did anyOmegastell you that? How about the girl that jumped off the roof? Or was it other people speakingforus?”
Her mouth falls open. “I…”
“Right.” I snap. “That’s what I thought.”
“You really don’t like it here?” She asks quietly, hurt etched on her pretty face.
Once again, I’m reminded how this is so much more complicated than I thought.
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” I mutter. “You’ve been very kind to me. But I was never given a choice.”
She swallows, and I hiss as a cramp races through me. “Fuck.And they’re denying me medication…yes, suppressants aremedication, so I can be moreagreeableto whatever happens to me. Do you understand?”
She looks bewildered and like she might cry.
