Chapter 2
Revea
“When you said we were getting security, I didn’t realise you were hiring from Tall, Dark, and Handsome R Us.”
“Do you want to say that a little louder?” I hiss. “I’m not sure everyone in the salon heard.”
Margret, my right-hand woman, grins at me. With bright scarlet curls and a neon pink pantsuit, she isn’t afraid to stand out or be heard.
Before I opened Shear Instinct, we worked together at another salon. I’m not sure what I did to make her like me, but she decided to stick around when I told her I was creating my own place.
She’s a beta, happily settled with two beta men, and has spent the weekend helping her sons move to university. She’s loud, confident, and gossips like a teenager. I love everything about her.
“How do you think the omegas are dealing with him?” I murmur as I refill some water bottles.
Margret peers over her tortoiseshell half-moon glasses at me. “Honey, are you serious?” Her blue gaze darts to the side, until mine follows.
Near the row of sinks at the back, Luciano is at the top of a ladder. When he reaches up to check the latch of a skylight, tugging on the handle, his compression t-shirt and padded vest ride up, revealing a sliver of golden-brown skin and the edge of a taut muscle.
“And we’re not the only ones watching,” she adds, pointing to the busy shop floor.
In the full-length mirrors, it’s clear what the clients and all my staff are focused on. And it isn’t hair.
Even Serena has stopped mixing colours in the far corner to watch.
Then he jumps down, and time restarts.
Chattering continues, machines buzz, and water spills over onto my hand.
All night and day, I’ve been worrying about how certain omegas would react to an alpha being here, but by the afternoon, it seems I needed to worry more about the alpha.
I told him to stay away from my staff, but how can he when they’re the ones instigating conversations, asking him to grab colours that we definitely have a stool for, and watching him so blatantly?
I’m almost thankful when I hear a client getting a little snappy, anything for a distraction.
Her brows are furrowed, frown deep, repeating loudly, “I wanted ash blonde, cool tone—this isn’t cool!”
When Katie, a colour specialist and omega who spent most of her teenage years in one of those awful correction facilities, sees me, her eyes widen in desperation.
“Anything I can help with?” I smile in my best customer service voice.
“Does this look ashy to you?” the client snaps, holding a strand of platinum blonde hair. “No, it doesn’t. It’s yellow.”
I run my fingers through her sleek hair. “It’s not yellow. But if you like, we can try a different toner—”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“No.” I grin brightly, fingers falling away. “Maybe, in your opinion, it’s yellow, but that’s the thing about viewpoints. Neither is wrong, just different—”
“But I’m not wrong. She—” She turns in the chair, pointing her finger in Katie’s face. “—is clearly colour blind!”
“Stop,” I order, low and calm, but with enough grit to make her hand drop.
“That woman you’re pointing at is an incredibly skilled colourist. She knows more shades of blonde than there are strands on your head.
If you ever insult a member of my team again, you will be banned from this salon, and I’ll ensure every one of my colleagues in this city knows why. ”
The woman’s anger quickly fades, her eyes widening with pure mortification.
I soften my tone, meeting her gaze head-on.
“Your hair looks beautiful, but personal taste is tricky. So I’ll give you two options.
One, you apologise to Katie, and we take you to the sink and make you ashier.
Two, you leave with your not-yellow hair and try to find another stylist within a ten-mile radius who will touch it. ”
The client is now… crying.
I frown, glancing at Katie, who looks equally perplexed.
“I’m s-so sorry,” she sobs, barely getting the words out as she looks at Katie.
“I’m r-really sorry. Honestly, I’m not normally like this.
It’s just… I’m due my heat any day now, and my hormones are crazy,” she groans, wiping her face with the cloak.
“I fucking hate being an omega sometimes. I never know what I’m feeling or thinking, and now I’m acting like—like an entitled, crazy bitch! ”
She slams her face into her hands and cries even louder.
I realise everyone is watching, including Luciano. Of course he is. She’s an omega in distress, and he’s an alpha. His instincts are hardwired to step in.
I need to fix this. Quickly.
I drag the nearest chair closer, sitting beside the sobbing omega.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Come on now, we’re all omegas here,” I say quietly while staring hard at Katie in the mirror, tilting my head at the client, urging her without words to say or do something.
“Right,” she blurts, grabbing and pulling another chair over.
“I totally understand. Pre-heat always hits me hard. I feel like there’s little fiery ants crawling under my skin, and everything is so…
overwhelming.” Then she lets out a deep sigh.
“Once, before my heat, I couldn’t get enough of these certain cookies.
I was obsessed. My alphas got me so many packets, but when I opened one, a cookie was broken.
Not even fully, just a crack, and I lost it. ”
The client has stopped sobbing, thankfully, sniffling instead as she raises her head.
“Is it bad that I can totally understand that?”
Katie laughs, and I find myself joining in.
“I’ve got one even better,” I add with an embarrassed smile. “Pre-heat coffee order, and instead of caramel syrup, I got mint.”
“No,” they both gasp.
I nod, sorrowfully. “I was home, about to go into heat in the middle of winter, with this coffee that smelt wrong, and… well, there wasn’t an alpha in the world who could deal with me in that state.”
I shake my head, remembering how I had to spend that heat alone after I barked at the alpha to leave.
“My alpha once used the wrong scented fabric conditioner for a throw in the nest,” a client behind chips in, face grim, “I wouldn’t let him in for the first day.”
Someone hisses, and I grimace.
“I know. Poor man can’t even look at the washing machine without getting PTSD.”
And soon, we’re all throwing in our little stories, no longer feeling quite as silly or alone.
We eventually coax the client over to the sinks, and ten minutes later, she’s beaming as Katie chats while blow-drying her hair.
“Hey, Revea. You got a minute?”
When I turn, I’m caught by Luciano’s handsome face. I’ve stolen glances at him all day, but up close, I get a little lost in his deep brown gaze.
“Sure,” I answer in a daze, clearing my throat. “What’s up?”
He tilts his head to the side, indicating to the kitchen before he steps away. I frown but follow, and the second we’re off the busy shop floor, I note the tension in his posture.
My brows furrow deeper. “Are you okay?”
“Me? I’m fine.” He smiles, but it’s a little tight. Then it softens. “Listen, I swear I’ve been staying away from your staff. I’ve been polite, maybe smiled a little, but that’s it.”
I step a little closer. “Has something happened?”
“One of the girls, an omega, she keeps bringing me… food.” My stomach drops, but he keeps going.
“I get the vibe she doesn’t really understand what it means, or why she’s even doing it?
But it’s got my alpha on edge. He wants me to refuse it, but after what you said this morning about the omegas’ past experiences and all that, I didn’t want to do anything that made it worse. So I just… took it.”
He looks at me sheepishly, hands tucked into his pockets.
“I’m so sorry, Luciano.”
His expression blanks. I’m not sure what response he expected, but I feel fucking awful.
“Blonde, big brown eyes?”
He nods.
“Rosie.” I sigh, worrying my lip in thought. “I’ll fix it. I’m sorry. Really sorry. I didn’t even think she’d come near you, let alone… Let me go find her—”
Warm fingers find my elbow, stopping my retreat. “Hey, don’t apologise. You told me what the deal was.” His soft, comforting gaze only makes the guilt worse. “I mean it, Revea.”
I nod at his words, but the guilt lies thick. “You’re right, about her not really understanding.” I pause as I consider how much to tell him. “Rosie’s been trained all her life to submit to alphas. It’s so ingrained in her that when my brothers came over once, I couldn’t get her off her knees.”
I grit my teeth at the memory.
Rue’s face was the worst, the way his alpha shook with the need to bark, to command her to stand, but knowing it would only make it worse.
“That was six months ago. She’s made huge improvements, but she hasn’t been around alphas since. I think she’s reverted back to doing what they taught her.”
I give him a small, sad smile before I try to turn again—
“Please feel free to tell me to fuck off, but maybe it would help if we spoke to her together?”
I still, our gazes locked.
He shrugs. “She might be willing to listen to me. If she’s been taught to serve alphas. Unless you think that’s an awful idea—”
I shake my head softly, cutting him off. “No, it’s a good idea. You sure?”
His wide grin answers for him.
***
When I bring Rosie into the back, her soft smile drops the second she sees Luciano.
“Alpha,” she murmurs, staring hard at the floor.
I crouch, softening my voice. “Rosie, we’ve talked about this. You don’t need to drop your gaze.”
This close, I notice the tremor skittering through her body. Her omega is right at the surface, shaking in the presence of an alpha. It’s too much for her. He’s too close.
What if I’ve just set her progress back? It took months for her to make eye contact with anyone. I need to send him away—
Luciano steps forward and drops to his knees.
Rosie stops shaking.
I stop breathing.
“Rosie, can you look at me, please?” he says so gently that the hum of the fridge is louder.
“You’re… you’re on your knees.” She takes a shuddering breath, but doesn’t look up. “Alphas don’t do that. Alphas—”
“—do whatever makes omegas feel safe.”
She flinches, muscles tensing, her head shaking slightly.
“That’s the truth, Rosie. I’m sorry you’ve been taught otherwise. But alphas are biologically wired to serve and protect omegas. To cherish them. Any alpha that doesn’t can’t call himself one.”
Her chin tilts up a little, but she still doesn’t meet his gaze.
And my stomach is a mess. The way he talks to her, his gentle tone, the sincerity in his eyes. This large alpha dropping immediately into a position of submission for an omega he barely knows.
No ego. No hesitation. Just instinct.
I swallow back all those thoughts. “Rosie, Luciano said you brought him food?”
She hesitates, then nods, thick blonde hair curtaining most of her face.
“Do you know what bringing food to an alpha means?” I ask.
She stills. I’m not sure she’s even breathing for a moment.
Then her quiet voice answers, “I was told it’s my job to serve alphas, to keep them happy. Food makes people happy. The fridge is always full here. I don’t have to beg, and that makes me happy.”
My breath catches, and my heart aches. I look to Luciano, and he must see the pain in my expression, because he lowers himself further, trying to catch her eyes.
“Rosie, when you bring an alpha food, it means you want to court them.”
Her head snaps up so fast she nearly connects with my chin. “It does?!” she blurts, her frantic gaze seeking out mine for reassurance.
When I slowly nod, her mouth drops open, eyes darting to Luciano.
“I didn’t realise… I didn’t mean to…”
“He knows.” I smile when she looks back at me. “He was worried about how your omega would respond if he rejected it.”
“I’m sorry,” she squeaks, her cheeks flushing as she tries to hold Luciano’s gaze, but can’t quite manage it. “I really didn’t… I didn’t know it meant… I…” She can’t finish her sentences.
She can’t catch her breath.
“Rosie?” I frown when her hands clasp at her chest, her breaths too sharp and shallow—
“Breathe, omega.” Luciano’s low bark rumbles through the room.
Immediately, Rosie follows his order. Taking long, deep breaths. Then slowly exhaling.
Luciano watches her, but I’m staring at him.
I’ve been brought up with two domineering alpha brothers, their equally loud friends, and a family of alpha dads. All of them military.
I’ve heard alpha barks all my life.
But that…
My omega purrs, holding onto the sound, the feel of the vibration as it rushes through the ground and into us.
That bark is dangerous.