26. Luna
Luna
I can’t stop crying.
I can’t stop shaking either. I don’t know whether that’s because of the crying or because of the cold.
I haven’t had very many medical experiences, considering my parents never brought me to the doctor, but whatever just happened was the single worst experience I think I’ll ever have.
I try to shove away the memories of how violated I felt, my legs in these weird stirrups as the doctor ran a bunch of invasive tests he said were essential to his examination.
But it’s hard, considering I’m still in the same, stupid paper gown he insisted I change into.
I wasn’t given my clothes back before that omega from the front desk brought me to this room.
It would be nice, compared to the standards I was used to growing up. Compared to my room back at the Ward pack house? It’s hard and sterile.
It’s also freezing. I’m pretty sure Brandy’s friend purposely set the temperature this low on purpose. I’m also pretty sure she didn’t bring me any of my stuff .
The only thing I have is the thin, paper-thin sheet that was left on the bed. There wasn’t even a comforter.
I don’t want to sound spoiled, especially considering I had something similar to this sheet in the cellar I spent my heats in, but still. This is supposed to be a center specialized in taking care of omegas. This can’t be healthy.
I try and wrap the sheet tighter around my shoulders, tucking my legs up against my body as I curl into a ball. I’m hiding behind the bedframe, trying to get away from the viciously cold vent on the ceiling.
This cold seriously has to be on purpose. Who would have the air conditioning set to freezing in the dead of winter?
I never want to see that doctor again. He didn’t rape me, but his invasive touches combined with the way he looked at me reminded me of the way all the betas would look at me during my heats. Like I was a coveted possession they finally had claim over.
I don’t want to give that doctor a chance to do any claiming of me at all.
My body doesn’t seem to get the memo that I’m alright, though, because the tears refuse to stop flowing down my cheeks. I swear, if it were a few degrees colder in here, they’d actually freeze to my face.
Fear suffocates me, clawing its way up my throat when I hear a knock at the door. I don’t answer. Anyone who wants to come into this room will come into this room, regardless of whether or not I give permission.
I guess that’s just how things work when you’re an omega.
The consideration and respect the guys gave me seems to be a thing unique to them.
That thought makes my heart ache even more.
I miss them. I just want to sink into their warmth, their protection, them . I want to get away from the rest of this cold, cold world.
The door opens and I hold my breath, freezing in place. As the door clicks shut behind the person who just entered, it becomes obvious to me that the person who just stepped in here is a man.
Oh god, I’m stuck here, practically naked, in a room with a man.
A man, who—by the strength of his nutmeg and cedarwood scent—is very obviously an alpha.
According to the sound of his footsteps, it seems like he’s stopped in the doorway.
“Hello?” He asks.
I take a chance and peek up and out from my hiding spot. The alpha is older, maybe in his late fifties, with salt-and-pepper gray hair. The cut of his jaw seems incredibly familiar.
His gaze finds mine and a shiver goes down my spine. His dark eyes are so intense that they make the twisting in my gut worse.
I instantly know where I recognize him from. He’s the spitting image of Archer. Or I guess, should I say, Archer is the spitting image of him.
This must be Archer’s father.
“What are you doing back there?” He asks, glancing around the room, a little shocked. “Where is all your stuff? I would’ve thought my son and his pack would’ve ensured you’d had at least some things with you.”
My mouth opens and closes as I struggle to find the words to answer. The presence of an alpha in my fragile state has my shaking growing worse. I’m starting to hyperventilate and my chest is growing tight.
“Are you alright?” He asks, taking a hesitant step towards the bed I’m hiding behind as if he wants to try and get a better look at me.
I don’t know whether it’s because he’s Archer’s father or because I’m just so incredibly fed up with everything that’s happened over the course of the past day, but I actually speak to him.
“N—No,” I say, wrapping the sheet around myself as tightly as I possibly can, making the flimsy paper gown shift against my skin. I don’t know whether it’s the noise of the gown or my answer, but I seem to have piqued the director’s interest enough for him to walk towards me.
He freezes when he sees me.
“The—The doctor took—took my clothes,” I grit out through chattering teeth. “And this room is—is freezing. The—The guys bought me things, but—but they weren’t brought here.”
“Fuck,” the director curses under his breath. “Who brought you in here and which doctor saw you?”
“I don’t—don’t know her name. The doctor’s name was—was Dr. Whittaker.”
“Noted.” His jaw clenches in a way that’s so hauntingly familiar if I weren’t all out of tears, I’d start crying all over again. Which is silly. Because the way this stranger clenches his jaw shouldn’t be comforting.
But it is. Because it reminds me of Archer.
And that reminder makes me feel just that tiny bit warmer.
“I assume you weren’t given any clothes after your exam, considering you were never given your things, correct?”
I nod. “Only—only a paper gown.”
His scent grows more intense as his dominance starts leaking into the room. He’s angry.
My only hope is that anger is directed at other people and not me.
He pulls out his phone and starts furiously shooting off a few texts.
“I’m going to carry you now.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the hard, angry set of his jaw and his narrowed eyes, combined with his dominance, have me shutting my mouth. I’m not going to fight this alpha.
My head falls to my chest. The only thing I can do is clutch the thin sheet to myself as he scoops me into his arms. My body is as stiff as a board, completely different from when any of the guys carry me. Things are so different with this alpha, and it’s not just because he’s Archer’s father.
His scent isn’t offensive, and it doesn’t burn like Alpha Niall’s did, but it doesn’t feel… right. It’s similar to how I felt with Officer Stone’s scent. Not like my guys.
He carries me into the hall where an older, middle-aged woman, another omega, according to her scent, comes rushing up to me.
“Oh dear!” She says when her eyes land on me. I guess I must look like a mess after the breakdown I had in that room.
“What room is prepared for an omega right now? Because that one was far from it,” The director says, nodding to the room he just carried me out of.
“I—I don’t know off the top of my head, sir, but I’ll find one,” she says, smoothing the front of her blazer as she pulls out her phone.
“And once you’re done, try and find who was running the front desk three hours ago. Fire them.”
“Yes, sir,” The omega nods.
Everything is moving so quickly, I can barely keep up. I’m shocked that the Director would so easily jump to firing someone.
I would imagine that an omega working for this center would be much more valuable than an omega like me.
Fear claws at my chest. Unless it’s because I am more valuable to him and the center. That omega from the front desk did say something about an auction.
“Room 217 is available and ready, sir,” The omega receptionist says.
“Thank you, Rosemary.” The director offers her a nod and starts heading down the hall to what I presume to be room 217.
It’s far warmer than the other room I was kept in. It also looks a bit cozier with actual pillows and comforters on the bed and furniture in the corner. The Director sets me down on the sofa and turns to the wall where he adjusts a thermostat .
“I’m turning the temperature up, but feel free to change it to whatever you’d like later,” he says. He moves to the closet by the attached bathroom door and pulls out a bathrobe. “Would you like to put this on? I assume it’d be more comfortable than that sheet.”
I eye the bathrobe warily. I don’t know whether he wants me to change into it in front of him, but if that’s the case, I’d much rather just stay in this sheet.
He seems to sense my hesitancy because he nods towards the bathroom door. “In there, of course.”
I nod. Standing and reaching to grab the bathrobe from him. It’s soft. High quality, too. The same quality as all the clothes the Ward Pack got me. Which is surprising considering this room doesn’t belong to anyone in particular.
I guess it’s just a Northside thing, to have expensive, luxurious bathrobes unused in vacant rooms.
I close the bathroom door behind me, my shoulders sinking in relief when there’s a lock. I drop the sheet onto the floor, tearing off the paper gown I was given in the doctor’s lab and throwing it into the trash can. If burning it were an option, I’d do that in a heartbeat.
I hate how much my body relaxes the moment I slide the bathrobe on. It’s like the omega part of my brain instantly feels safer now that I’m surrounded by softness and warmth.
It didn’t seem to get the memo that there’s an unfamiliar alpha outside or the fact that I have no clue what’s going to happen to me, now that I’m here and registered.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I guess the first thing I have to do if I want answers is ask questions, and the person to ask is right outside.
I take a deep breath and unlock the bathroom door.
The Director’s dominance is thick in the main room. He’s sitting in one of the armchairs, typing aggressively into his phone again. He looks up when he hears me and twists his lips into an attempt at a smile.