Page 23 of The Alpha's Fake Mate

Locating my favorite lounge chair, I sat in the slatted shadows and stared through the chain link fence toward the pine forest at the edge of the farm.

The day was cool but I liked it. My skin prickled and the air seeped into me until I felt very little, which was what I preferred.

I lifted my tablet, hit reply to Orion’s email, and began to type.

By the end my hands were shaking. From the cold, I told myself. From the cold.

Orion:

Your bleeding heart is on overtime, I see.

It doesn’t really impress me. Your pity. Your change of mind about selling the farm.

Oh, did you mean for it to impress me?

Did you peek at my records?

I’m sure you did.

If so, then you well understand that my life is over. I have no freedom to seek my dreams. If I refuse to serve in the mating hall, I have no other recourse but to become a servant to Omegas here who are healthy and willing to serve Alphas.

My lack of excitement over that isn’t anything to do with this place being clean, functional, or meeting the essential needs of Omegas who live here. It’s all just fine. How would you really improve on that beyond sending us better food or toys?

The problems with the farm are intrinsic to the nature of an Omega’s rights, or lack thereof.

These changes you make affect nothing.

For me, the problems I have are mine, and are personal. They are about the fact that I will never find a bondmate, never have a family, whether I wanted one or not, because I have no freedom to seek anything in any other way but servicing Alphas and waiting for one to claim me.

There is no such thing as a free Omega. Period. End of argument.

What can you do about that?

How can you change that?

These are rhetorical questions that have no answers. I know that.

If I don’t bend over, my life is useless in an Alpha ruled world. I have no place. Of course a place will be made for me here on the farm.

But that was never my dream when I was young. To stay here forever? To never know the outside?

Not my choice.

Nothing can be done.

Maybe this discourse is over now. That will be fine. A relief, actually.

Holland

I sent the email without allowing myself second thoughts. I didn’t check for spelling errors. I didn’t care. I wanted it out there, off my chest. It was too much weight for me to hold onto.

Orion himself was too much weight. An Alpha who pretended to care. I couldn’t allow myself to comprehend that right now.

I could tell by his email that he had looked at my private records. He knew all that had happened to me. He had the right to know. But it made my mind spin.

Every time he wrote to me, he would be thinking of me as the boy who’d been raped. The scarred boy. The ruined boy. How could he see me in any other light?

No one could. Even Sen couldn’t comprehend it. I was used and thrown away like garbage. I wasn’t trying to feel sorry for myself. But the facts were the facts. People got hurt, sure, and accidents happened. But this was no accident. I was flung into this situation by a system that took away all control from me.