Chapter 3 Mirabelle
Mirabelle
“She’s all yours, then,” the terrifying older alpha growls.
My clammy palms press against my skin as I curl in, trying to disappear beneath their gaze.
I can’t help the urge to keep looking at the man who wants to “train” me.
I think his name is Rowan.
As I take in his features—his hazel eyes and his strong brow that seem to match the older alpha behind the desk—it hits me he looks almost boyish. Despite the darkness that lingers in his gaze, he looks a couple of years younger than I am.
He takes a step towards the cage, and his scent hits me. A subtle, fresh basil.
There’s an eerily familiar bitter aftertaste to his scent that I can’t quite place, but that doesn’t really matter.
Because I like his scent. I like it a lot.
The surrounding bars rattle as Jett slams his big, meaty hand on top of the cage, the noise cracking through my trembling body like a whip.
He sneers down at me as he reaches and unlocks the door, making it swing open.
“Fine then. Looks like you got lucky, omega,” Jett huffs, saying my designation as if it’s a slur. “You’ve got a nicer master you’ve gotta please. Go ahead and show him what a good girl you are. Crawl to him.”
There’s an edge of commanding dominance laced in his words, but it’s not a bark. He wants me to do this all on my own.
Rowan makes a quiet noise at the back of his throat that he quickly silences when Jett’s gaze cuts towards him.
Lips pressed tight to stop their trembling, I sink onto my hands and knees. Cool air teases across my bare skin as the position leaves every inch of me exposed as I crawl closer to Rowan.
“Isn’t she a good girl?” Jett sneers mockingly as I sit back on my heels in front of Rowan.
It’s only then that I build up the courage to glance up at the beta. And the moment I do, I can’t look away.
Dilated pupils. Parted lips. Shaky breaths.
He’s turned on. He likes what he sees.
His beta scent isn’t nearly as intense as the others in the room, but it’s impossible to miss the way it twists in the air. It grows more fragrant, like freshly picked basil.
Delicious.
Oh wow, where in the world did that thought come from?
Something about the change in my expression jolts Rowan from the trance he seemed locked in.
“C—come on,” he grunts, spinning on his heel. “You can stand now.”
I stumble to my feet, almost chasing after him. He seems almost desperate to make it out of the room. I don’t blame him. The suffocating scents of the alphas behind me and their sticky gazes on my naked body make me want to get away as fast as possible, too.
Rowan glances over his shoulder, knuckles whitening on the doorknob.
“Let’s go,” he says, nodding down at me after I catch up.
The office door shuts, leaving the two of us in the dark, silent hallway. There’s a crash from behind the door as Jett lets out a frustrated roar. He must’ve kicked the cage across the room or something.
I flinch at the noise, jumping closer to Rowan, who swallows hard as he glances down at me.
“We should get out of here,” he says, his voice low.
At the door, Rowan stops short, a blush rising on his cheeks as he glances down at me.
It catches me off guard. That softness is the last thing I would’ve expected in a place like this.
It’s surprisingly human compared to the monsters he’s related to.
The air between us seems to hum with tension before it’s cut by him yanking off his hoodie with a hand over his shoulder.
“Here,” he says, holding it out to me. “Put this on.”
He flinches back when our fingertips brush, as if the touch burns. My brows draw down at the sudden motion, and I bite my lip, glancing up at him through my lashes while I tug the hoodie closer to my chest, trying to figure out what I did wrong.
The hoodie hits me at mid-thigh, and the sleeves are long enough to cover my hands completely. I love the feel of the soft, worn fabric against my skin. Surrounded by his soothing basil scent, I let out a soft hum of contentment.
After the terrible, stressful day I’ve had so far, this small comfort feels like a blessing.
Rowan makes a noise at the back of his throat, and my eyes flutter open.
“S—sorry,” I say, glancing away. “Thank you for the hoodie.”
“Don’t thank me,” he huffs, opening the front door. “It’s nothing.”
It’s not nothing to me, but the growing scowl on his face makes me not want to say anything. This man seems far nicer than his brother or father, but the last thing I want to do is test his patience.
The porch squeaks as he steps out, his scowl deepening when his gaze lands on my bare feet.
“Shit, they didn’t give you any shoes, did they?”
“N—no,” I say, shaking my head.
“Of course not,” he huffs. “Can I carry you? I don’t want you to hurt your feet.”
“O—okay.” I give him a shaky nod, my fingers curling into the sleeves of the hoodie.
He lifts me up, one arm underneath my legs and the other holding my upper body. My arms slowly wrap around his neck to give me something to do before I try to take in my surroundings.
It looks like we’re on some type of farm with dirt roads and various buildings scattered about the flat land.
“Wow,” I say, staring up at the clouds. “They’re so pretty.”
“Huh?” He asks, his brows drawing down in confusion.
“The clouds. They’re so... big!” They fill the sky all the way up to the horizon. Every soft curve is etched with more detail than I ever thought possible.
Rowan carries me, walking at a brisk pace I wouldn’t have been able to keep up with without shoes, towards a collection of trailers kept in neat rows.
“I’m taking you back to my place,” he murmurs softly.
“Okay,” I say.
“Is that all you know how to say?” He huffs, lowering me down to my feet at the steps of what I assume to be his trailer.
I blink up at him in confusion as he opens the door, ushering me inside.
“What else would you want me to say?” The words come out slow and cautious.
His sharp gaze cuts through me, and my gaze instantly drops to the floor.
I study the surrounding trailer. It’s small, but clean. The only clutter is on the small dining room table, where papers are scattered about. To my right is the small kitchenette, and to my left, past the small living room, is what looks to be the bedroom and bathroom.
“I don’t know,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You—you’re just not reacting the way I expect, considering you were bought and sold and brought in here in a fucking cage.”
The quiet snarl that leaves him is enough to make me flinch back, my spine bumping up against the front door.
He goes still at the movement before he whirls away from me, shoulders trembling as he drags in uneven breaths.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The curse is hissed out between his teeth as his hands rake through his messy dark brown locks.
My heart squeezes, and I take a hesitant step towards him, reaching out and resting my hand on his shoulder.
“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. If you—if you tell me the rules, I promise I’ll be good. I don’t want to upset anyone. Especially not you. Because you saved me.”
His muscles bunch under my touch before he whirls around, eyes wide, chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths.
“Why do you talk like that?” The words come out in a growl as his hand grips my wrist. It’s not a rough or painful grip, but it still makes me freeze in place.
His thumb brushes my pulse point, and my throat tightens.
“I didn’t save you,” he says, his expression crumpling. “Saving you would’ve meant getting you the fuck out of this hellhole.”
“But you kept me away from Jett. He—he has a darkness in him,” I murmur softly.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Rowan mutters. “He’s a cruel motherfucker.”
I nod slowly. “And you kept me away from him. At least for a little. Thank you, Rowan.”
His scent grows more intense, and his eyes darken as I say his name.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, his voice strained. He shakes himself, dropping his hold on my hand and walking a few steps to the kitchen to make space between us. “What’s your name?”
“Mirabelle, but my friends call me Mira.”
“Mirabelle,” he says slowly, almost like he’s tasting it.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him he can call me Mira, but considering the way he seems so jumpy and defensive, I don’t want to push my luck. He seems to think that what he’s done for me is far less significant than I do.
“How the hell did you end up here, Mirabelle?” He pulls a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water for me.
My expression falls, and I grip the hem of the hoodie, my shoulders curling in on themselves.
“Hey, hey, whoa, did I say something wrong?” He asks. His free hand hovers over me like he wants to console me, but he isn’t sure what to do.
“N—no,” I say, shaking my head. I need to get this over with. If Rowan is going to be my new handler, he should know everything about me. “I—I broke the rules. And so I was sold.”
“Broke the rules? What rules?”
“The rules at the facility,” I say, glancing away from him, the shame weighing heavily in my gut.
“That why you asked me about the rules here?”
I nod quickly, almost eagerly. “Yes! So please tell me your rules so I don’t break them accidentally. I—I don’t want to be punished again.”
His expression darkens at my words, and he shoves the glass of water into my hands before spinning around again and leaning his fists onto the countertop.
“Rules,” he says slowly, spitting out the word through gritted teeth. “Punishments. Facilities. You smiling so fucking big at clouds, for fucks sake.”
“Did—did I say something wrong?”
“You asking those fucking questions,” he mutters, seemingly adding that to the list of my offenses.
“I—I’m sorry,” I say, my voice trembling.
“And those fucking apologies!”
His voice comes out as a twisted snarl, his shoulders heaving as his head drops to his chest. He almost looks like he’s in pain.
Why though? Why did all the things he listed seem to hurt him?
I know he’s basically my new handler. He’s not my friend. Not one of the other omegas from the facility.