What I expected to look like an office looks more like a messy design studio. There are fabrics and racks of clothing to one side, including shelves with boxes that I assume are footwear. To the left are two large tables with papers and files scattered over them. The wall behind them holds many charts.
This room is far too messy to belong to a Head Omega… right?
The sound of a ruler hitting the table makes me jump, and I turn to look at the tall woman who stands there looking me up and down. "State your name, business, and who you belong to," she snaps, her dark eyes watching me sharply as she picks up a file from one of the messy tables. "Quickly, girl!"
"E-Evangeline Rose, I belong to the Third Prince, and he's the one who told me to come for clothes," I say hurriedly, the words sounding weird on my lips as they tumble out.
"Ah, the new one…" She places the file down with a snap, her eyes running over me. "You have a lot of potential; he has a good eye," she murmurs more to herself than to me.
"Position?"
"Position?" I ask, confused.
"Yes, are you his maid or bed warmer? I'm assuming you aren't one of his claimed omegas," she says snidely. "He doesn't really take those."
"I'm his maid," I say, thinking that I had served him breakfast. She raises an eyebrow before clicking her tongue.
"I'm not so sure. I'll measure you, and then we'll give you a variety of items," she says, jotting something down before taking an empty sheet and motioning me to follow her. "Remove your bottoms."
I obey, glad the shirt was long as she took my measurements. Her eyebrow shoots up as she measures my waist. "A lot curvier and more appealing than you first appeared. Avoid such frumpy clothes. The Prince won't find you appealing," she mutters to herself, making me sigh softly.
I'm just an object.I don’t move, simply obeying, and when she is done with all her measurements and notes, she purses her lips. "So, since you seem rather new to the rules and ways of the castle, do you know the rules of the omegas of the castle and full moons?"
"Full moons? We are to stay home?"
"Yes, or more precisely, in your room. You belong to your alpha now, and people will know that. However, your omega scent will be highly enticing to other males on full moons," she says, as she begins taking out some clothing, but I am far too stressed to watch. Trying to take in everything she is saying instead. "It is an insult to your prince if you ever engage with anyone besides him. Remember that. There are many single men in this palace. Yet no matter how your alpha treats you, you are never to entertain anyone else. Are you listening?!"
"Y-yes!" I nod vigorously.
I don’t want a man. I want to go far away, maybe have a small shop or something where I can live like a human.
She frowns as she looks at my feet, and to my dismay, she begins taking some boxes of shoes down as she continues explaining. "Even if you have desires and your alpha does not want you, that rule must be followed; although I doubt that will be the case. Hmm, I wish the Prince had told you what type of clothing he prefers for you."
What is this? The olden days? In this day and age, it is disgusting that we are still treated like this just because we are born different. It isn’t our fault that males love us. We are still beings with dreams of our own.
What are my dreams? I never had any, because all I ever saw was Sinclair.My chest tightens painfully, and I look down sadly.
"What colour to give you? He doesn't usually have omegas," she muses.
"Red," a deep voice that makes my blood run cold comes.
We both turn, startled to see the Prince standing there. Luckily, he is fully dressed, but somehow, I am extra aware of his chiselled body and how he fills his shirt out; knowing precisely what he is packing under it.
Oh my God, not that kind of packing! I mean his muscles, arm muscles!"Alpha Prince Zedkiel." Dolores bows her head graciously, but I can smell the fear coming from her. Like everyone back at the ball, she fears him. I shouldn't get too distracted either. He is a beast, a monster who can kill instantly.
"Give her the very best. I don't want to see her in anything less than appealing," he says coldly, his eyes on my bare legs.
I press my thighs together, tugging at the hem of my shirt, hoping it is covered enough.
"The very best." Dolores' attention turns to me before she looks back at the Prince. "Of course, My Prince. Your insignia then, in what item do you prefer she wear it: a brooch, a necklace, or perhaps a-"
"I'll deal with that. Just get her the clothes," he snaps coldly before he leaves. The room suddenly becomes more breathable, and even Dolores exhales.
She looks at me as if observing me for the first time. "Perhaps, for now, you should wear… these, and in time, I will get what the Prince has asked for. We may need to send someone shopping for you."
"But you have many clothes here." I don’t want to owe them anything.
"The Prince has made it clear that he is claiming you."
Claiming me? The words make me uneasy, and she passes me the tiniest red knickers and a bra. I don’t think it will cover much. "These?"
"Yes, the Prince's orders," she says, a flash of an expression I can’t understand flits across her face before she snaps her fingers. "Go change."
I don’t argue. If it means he will let me live… wearing these clothes isn’t too bad. At least I have clothes that aren’t his.
Ten minutes later, I am regretting my positivity. The bra does nothing to hide or hold anything; it only pushes my boobs into my face. The red peplum top she gave me is so tight I am sure if I had a glass of water, it would burst from the seams, and the trousers she gave me… well, let's just say they are so fitted that the tiny knicker outline can be seen from behind.
"Madam, I think these clothes are a few sizes too small," I mumble as she roughly shoves a box into my arms. The corner jabbing into my arm.
"No, they're not. Now put those on," she commands, and I don’t bother complaining as I open the boxes and look at the black patent heels.
I slip them on. They aren’t comfortable at all. I hope I don’t have to wear them all day.
"Dolores, I have the latest!" a slim man exclaims upon entering. From his soft pink pants and silk shirt to his perfect boots, I know this man loves fashion.
"What do you mean, Alistair?" Dolores asks sharply.
"The King may be expecting the princes to take brides soon, especially since fated mates are so rare. Do you know what it means, my sunshine?"
Sunshine? Dolores is anything but a sunshine."It means we need to make sure we have the finest clothing and party planners ready, just in case," she replies briskly as she sighs, tossing her pen onto the file.
"Yes, that or…" his gaze falls on me, and he looks me over. "Oh, I like that outfit."
Dolores looks at me as if she had forgotten I am even there. "Move along. I'm sure you haven't eaten. Go to the kitchens and ask for Charlie. He'll help you with the Prince's rota and tell you everything you need. Tell them I told you to get some lunch!"
"Thank you, Madam Dolores," I say, lowering my head to her before I hurry out of the room, very aware of my fitted outfit. I wonder what else they were talking about before Alistair trailed off, but the last I heard before the door shut was Alistair whispering.
"No, Dolores. No luna means they are out of the tournament race."
The door shuts with a resounding thud, echoing off the stone walls, and I frown as I make my way to the kitchen. The tournament… sounds like something I have heard of before. Isn’t that what Alpha Aeron discussed a few weeks back?
I wish I had paid attention. What exactly had he said?I gasp when it suddenly comes back to me.
"Oh, of course! Because none of the princes have been given the sign to be the next king at their rituals, the Supreme Alpha King will hold a tournament, and the winner will take the throne!" I snap my fingers, proud of myself for remembering.
"Well, well, well, look at the dirty little slut we have here." I freeze when none other than Celia's voice comes. I turn to see her with her sister, Odette, both wearing similar smirks on their faces, although Celia's is far uglier.
"She's alive," Odette whispers, as if it is the most shocking thing in the world.
Then again, I guess it is.
"He probably found her so disgusting he tossed her out. I think I'm right. She doesn't even smell of him!" Celia hissed.
"If he took her, she'd be dead," Odette whispers.
"Excuse me," I say, not wanting to entertain them any longer.
"Hold up, you little bitch, we aren't done," Celia hisses, grabbing my arm and pushing me against the wall, causing pain to rush through my shoulder. I hiss, trying to stop myself from yelping. "Just because you're wearing designer brands now doesn't mean you're anything more than someone made to clean up after a real woman."
"Celia, she's wearing designer clothing… we shouldn't-"
"Oh, Odette, she probably stole them from someone. How dare you?" she then slaps me across my face, and to my horror, grabs my sleeve from the shoulder and rips my top violently as she laughs. "See? First, Sinclair doesn’t want you and now even the Prince doesn't!"
That stings!
She slaps me again, and I flinch as she rips my top more, revealing my breasts. "Stop it!" I shout, covering my breasts as I back away. I scan the hall frantically, but I am alone, and there is no one to help me.
"Celia," Odette whispers warningly, her face pale. But Celia doesn’t care, simply slapping me again.
Suddenly, a terrifyingly menacing growl rumbles off the walls as a dangerous aura swirls around us, and it is almost as if darkness falls over us. We all turn as Odette whimpers, backing away in pure fear while Celia is frozen in shock. For the first time since meeting him, I feel relieved to see him.
Zedkiel.
When he speaks, a shiver of terror runs down my spine.
"How dare you touch what's mine?" he hisses, his voice shaking with pure rage that makes us tremble with fear.