Page 74

“You told me not to?” I remind her, my tone questioning her.

She’s wearing a pretty pantsuit as if the last thing she’s thinking about is heading to bed. My mother always looks perfectly dressed, not a hair out of place. Wrapped around her hand is a belt, and my gaze stutters on it before returning to her face.

She still seems really angry, and she’s pacing as she complains at me. The air has an unnatural charge in its energy,making me feel on edge as I drop my phone onto the bedspread and sit up.

“I don’t understand what you want me to do,” I say, my voice struggling not to tremble.

Maybe if I stay calm, I can deescalate whatever is going on with her. But, as I watch her talk about timelines, the need for action, and how the seconds are slipping away, I feel that may not be possible.

Shit.

“Martin misses his wife,” my mother says finally. “He wants me to go on a trip around the world with him, but knows I won’t be able to until I get your situation taken care of.”

She talks about my unpacked state as if it’s a malady that needs to be cured. I’m not sick, I can’t take two ibuprofen and call it a day. I hate when she acts as if getting me matched to a pack is as easy as snapping her fingers.

I hate it.

I gaze blankly at her, because I don’t know what she wants me to do or say. I must look stupid to her, which is a fate worse than death to my mother, because she grabs my ankle and pulls me to her angrily.

“Mom, what are you doing?” I gasp.

“I think you need some time to yourself,” she says, unraveling the belt only to double the strap. My chest begins to heave, because I can recognize a weapon easily enough.

When what appears to be a simple pen can be used against you by a doctor, you get very good at recognizing when you’re about to be hurt.

I just have yet to be hit by my own mother. She likes to hire out her dirty work.

“Mom,” I say, panic entering my voice. “What do you mean?”

“It means you’re not trying hard enough!” Her arm raises and falls hard, striking my leg. Flinching, I hiss in pain, kickingat her to get her to release me. I also pull myself back in the bed, but can’t because she just yanks me back.

It’s as if she has a new found strength, and I can’t get away. My chest starts to heave as she strikes me again, and tears rise up as she hits my stomach instead.

Fuck, that hurts.

“Then what do you want me to do?” I wail as she hits me over and over.

I’ve lost my window of reason, and I can only twist away as she seems to strike a different part of my body each time. My legs, stomach, back, it all gets the brunt as she hits me. It just works her up even more as she tells me how useless I am.

All I can do is try to protect the more vulnerable parts of my body by curling up as tightly as possible.

“I want a pack to choose you so you won’t be my problem anymore!” she yells. “I have to feed you, clothe you, buy you expensive wigs because you insist on sweating in them. Why can’t you do things that’ll get you to commit to them. Are you fucking any of them yet?”

“What? Me? No!” I gasp in shock as she hits me again.

“I don’t think these are the kind of men who are going to be impressed by the virginal omega,” she says snidely. “We tried that way, and you aren’t even a virgin.”

I don’t remember. I don’t. Does it count if it’s a big, black hole?

“I don’t care if you fuck them all,” she scowls. “I bet Cassidy is even expecting you to put out.”

“Mom,” I plead. “Let go!”

“No!” she screams, slamming down the belt. She catches me across my chest, and it feels as if I’m on fire. Gasping, I burst into tears, unable to bear it.

“If you keep this up, I won’t be able to see anyone,” I say. I’m wearing pants, which is probably pissing her off even more, but I’m sure welts are rising everywhere that she hit me.

“I’ll tell them you’re in heat,” she says primly.