Chapter 4
Chapter four
Houses and Bars
When I returned to the bedroom, with a towel wrapped tight around me, there was a set of clothes neatly folded waiting at the foot of the bed.
I shut the door and turned the lock, listening to it click in place. I knew it didn’t provide real safety; Cole could easily break the lock if she wanted, but it did provide privacy.
I walked to the clothing at the end of the bed to investigate it.
A pair of dark blue jeans, a brown belt, and an oversized white cotton top
The jeans were too long and hung loosely around my hips. The belt was necessary. I rolled the cuffs of the jeans and pulled on the white top.
It felt good to be fully dressed, covered, even if everything was the wrong size.
There was a soft knock on the door.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Are you dressed?” Cole asked on the other side of the door.
I unlocked the door and opened it.
Cole casually leaned against the doorframe and slowly looked me up and down. She had changed into a grey sweater and light blue jeans; it was minimal but elegant.
She exhaled through her nose and stood straight.
“It’s a bit… oversized,” I said, self-consciously under her gaze.
“I like seeing you in my clothes,” Cole replied matter-of-factly and closed the space between us.
“W—what?” I asked.
“You’re my omega,” she said, and it felt like she towered over me, like the oversized clothing made me smaller. “It shouldn’t be surprising that I’m pleased by the sight of you wearing anything that signals my claim.”
The explanation was delivered coldly.
“Yeah, well, not for long, right?” I said.
“Hmm,” she hummed and stepped back, allowing me space to breathe. “I’m taking you to meet Alan, our facilities manager. He’ll find something in housekeeping for you to do while you’re here.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“After, you’ll accompany me to a client lunch,” she said as she turned and began walking down the hallway, gesturing for me to follow. “Chloe should be here any moment with a pair of trainers in your size,” she told me.
“How do you know my shoe size?” I asked as we descended the stairs.
“I checked the pair of broken heels you left outside the bathroom,” Cole answered.
“Oh.”
Ashford had never been so proactive with my needs.
Most of the clothing I owned was what I had when he claimed me.
The only new items I had were chosen by him to match his standards as his omega.
His father’s money paid for the dresses, heels, lingerie, and makeup, but other than how I looked, I would be willing to place my own bet that Ashford had no idea what size shoe or dress I wore.
He didn’t care. So long as I wasn’t fat.
He was strict about that; I had to look good beside him.
I had lost weight; everything that was mine was looser than was comfortable.
As if on cue, Chloe opened the front door and entered with a shoebox under one arm.
“There you are,” she said, looking at me, frustration creasing her forehead. “You’re lucky I was able to pick this up so quickly,” she continued as if it was my doing that Cole had claimed me with nothing more than what I had been wearing.
She thrust the shoebox towards me at the bottom of the stairs.
“Are you wanting to drive yourself this afternoon or should I arrange a car?” she said, turning dismissively away from me and towards Cole.
“I’ll drive. Thank you for delivering the shoes for my omega. I trust you will have completed your other tasks by the time I arrive home this evening,” Cole replied with a clipped tone.
“Of course,” Chloe agreed, and left without any goodbye or looking in my direction again.
Cole turned to me and took the grey box from my hands.
“Let’s see if my assistant was able to follow my instructions,” she said as she opened the box.
Inside were a pair of immaculately white trainers.
“I thought minimal would work best. Lunch with Sepher Logistics will be more casual than business, and it wouldn’t do to have you all dressed up like last night for your first introduction to the Pack House.
By tonight, you will have a selection of pieces more appropriately sized and fitting,” she promised as she removed the shoes from the box, and I hoped she wasn’t planning to dress me similarly to how Ashford had.
“Take a seat,” she instructed, pointing to a small black wooden stool in the front entranceway.
I did as she instructed and was shocked as Cole knelt in front of me, so shocked I flinched back and hit my head off the wall behind me.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“What are you doing?” I accused.
She smiled, a devilish kind of smile that stole the breath from my chest, but it might have just been the knock to my head.
“What does it look like, puppy?” she asked as she loosened the laces of one shoe before reaching out and taking my ankle in her hand and guiding my foot into the shoe.
“Why?” I asked.
I was confused, perhaps potentially concussed. What was she doing?
“Because I want to and I can,” she answered, and I sat still, allowing her to put the shoes on for me and even tie the laces.
It took a moment for me to even register what she had said.
“I don’t like that,” I said as she stood in front of me.
“Are the laces too tight?” she asked.
“What? No. I don’t like being called puppy. It’s infantilising and disrespectful. I’m an omega, not a child,” I told her.
Cole laughed.
“I don’t view you as a child. I view you as mine,” she replied.
“For the next five weeks,” I said quietly. “Just don’t call me puppy,” I added, staring at the tied shoes. I couldn’t remember the last time someone else had put my shoes on and tied my laces.
My head was pushed upward by her curled finger under my chin until my eyes met her liquid-gold stare.
“You’re mine for as long as I desire,” she stated coldly.
“You do not dictate what I can and cannot do, but if you want something from me, you may ask politely.” She released my jaw.
“Now stand up,” she instructed and took a brown leather, collared, oversized bomber jacket from a hook and put it on before selecting a slightly lighter brown cotton utility jacket and holding it open for me, silently demanding that I allow her to help me put it on.
I obeyed, even allowing her to zip it up.
“It fits well,” she said, smiling like she was pleased with herself.
“It does,” I begrudgingly agreed.
“Shake off that attitude, omega,” she warned. “We’re about to step into public together. I am an alpha wolf and the Beta of Pack Sandstorm. If you disrespect me publicly, you'll face a public correction. Do you understand?” she asked.
Her tone was calm, soft, almost, but I understood the threat. I was to play my part or accept the consequences.
“Yes, Alpha,” I answered, hoping that using her title would alleviate any worries she might have about my behaviour.
I just had to make it through the next five weeks. Five weeks and I’d be back home. It wasn’t that I wanted to be back with Ashford. I didn’t. But I wanted to be back in my own pack. Being an omega was hard enough; I didn’t need to add being an outside wolf on top of that.
“Good girl, let’s go,” she commanded, and I ignored the way the praise bubbled warmly in my chest.
She opened the door, and I walked beside her as she led me down the driveway towards the sidewalk.
“Lucian Hill is technically open to all wolves, but Sandstorm has a monopoly,” she said as we crossed the road.
“We own every property in the northwest; it’s a clear divide down Main Street.
We also own over a third of the entry townhouses.
Those are assigned to lower-ranking, working members of the Pack.
Council members and leadership all reside much closer to the Pack House, where our individual offices are located,” she explained as we walked and turned down a private street where an impressive, regal-style mansion took centre stage.
“The Pack House.” She waved towards the building.
“You mean Pack Mansion? Is there something bigger than a mansion?” I asked. I’d never seen a bigger house.
She laughed beside me.
“It’s a true Pack House. Every member of Pack Sandstorm is welcome to visit its safe haven. We have daily meals and social events, and there’s a daycare in a new extension at the back.”
“Pack Blizzard doesn’t have a Pack House,” I told her.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said in a belittling sort of way. It made my metaphorical hackles rise, but I didn’t have a chance to respond as we reached the Pack House.
The entrance door was wedged open, and we walked into a cloakroom with numerous jackets hanging on wall hooks, disused umbrellas in a bucket in the corner next to the door, and a laminated sign reading If You Take It, Bring It Back!
The exclamation suggested whoever had made the sign was frustrated by non-returners.
“We won’t be here for long; keep your jacket on,” Cole said.
I hadn’t made any attempt to remove it.
I followed her through another door out of the cloakroom, which led into a long hallway. Various corkboards hung on the wall with printed flyers and posters filling and decorating the space, advertising movie and quiz nights, sports and exercise, educational classes, and social help.
“Down the hallway and around the corner, you find the main stairway, which leads to the function rooms on the second floor, and the councillors' offices on the third. The ground floor is where you’ll find the communal kitchen and dining space, the community open rooms, and Alan’s office,” Cole explained as we walked down the corridor.
I tried not to be distracted by all the posters when she stopped in front of a wooden door with a frosted-glass window reading Facilities Manager!
I couldn’t help but notice the use of an exclamation mark again with the sign.
“Alan makes all the signage and notices,” Cole whispered, and I saw a blurry figure through the frosted glass get up from a desk.
The door swung open.
“What do you want!”