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I don’t know what I expect, but it’s not the smell of hot food and coffee.
He’s brought me to the kitchen. Huh.
“Sit,” he says, pulling out a chair at the hardwood table.
I do as I’m told because, so far, his requests haven’t been too difficult.
I’m aware that’s going to change, and I’m trying to be ready for it.
A plate of food is put in front of me. A glass of juice, and a mug of coffee.
An older woman serves everything with trembling fingers and leaves the room on fast feet when the Alpha dismisses her.
“She’s afraid of you,” I tell him.
He sits down opposite me. “You’re not?”
“I know what you are.”
“And what’s that?” he asks, as if he’s bored.
I take a bite of the food first, a sip of the juice. Then, I look him in the eyes. “You’re the weakest Alpha I’ve ever met.”
Something flares in his eyes, but he gives me a cold smile. “You haven’t met too many Alphas.”
“I’ve met several dozen, actually.” I continue eating, wondering if goading him is smart, and deciding I don’t care. He didn’t want me harmed by his Betas. He hasn’t hurt me so far. I’m willing to bet there’s a reason for that. “None of them were so threatened by their own people that they chose to keep them in fear for their lives and the lives of their children.”
He laughs. “You think I give a shit if people are scared of me?”
“Of course you do. If they weren’t afraid, you wouldn’t be here. Because they would have risen up together to beat you down a long time ago.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Omega. You don’t know what it’s like to be an Alpha, and you never will.”
“Maybe not,” I tell him. “But I know what it’s like to be a decent person, and that’s more important.”
He rolls his eyes. He doesn’t care.
I don’t know what he does care about, but I can guess.
Men who don’t care about people usually only want money, power, or some combination of the two. He’s got both and clearly it isn’t enough.
“How does it feel?” I ask.
“How does what feel?” he growls, sending me a warning that I’m crossing a line talking to him like this.
I ignore it like I do most warnings.
“Having all the money and power that you do, and still not being satisfied.”
“You don’t know anything about me,” he says. “Don’t try to pretend you do.”
I give up on poking him, concentrating on the food.
I should eat while I can. I get the feeling he might be ready to stuff me back in that closet after this. I’m being stored here for now, so he’s dealing with me, but he’s not keeping me. He’s just trying to keep me in good condition. Before he passes me along to someone else.
“Aren’t you going to tell me anything about my new owner?” I ask, casually, not looking up from my food.
He scowls at me, ignores the question.
