Page 227 of Harley & Her Ferals

There aren’t many Omegas in the pack because Omegas weren’t valued in the Underworld. Those that there are, however, were offered little education.

Laurent has been helping me to settle the Battles in a territory safe in the mountains overlooking Haven.

Harbinger can easily drive River up to their estate several times a week. River is working on the estate as both their medic and tutor.

Even if River hasn’t previously learned a subject that an Omega wants to study, he’s been staying up late in the night to study it himself first, so that he can then teach it to the Omega.

Often, I’ve found him asleep over his open books with his glasses cutely askew.

Despite that, River is filled with excitement and enthusiasm every morning.

He practically bounces into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for everybody.

On the mornings that he makes it to bed, he does allow himself a long moment to stretch and luxuriate in the warmsunshine, which shines through the bedroom’s large, latticed window that’s directly over the bed.

Feral’s only command about the house was that we don’t put up any drapes.

“I don’t w-want to f-f-feel trapped again,” he said. “Caged.”

No drapes has the added bonus of meaning being able to wake up first to the sunshine streaming through the window. Then even better, lean up on my elbows and watch River’s eyes flutter open. He gives a happy sigh, feeling the sun’s fingers caress the sharp planes of his cheeks.

I love seeing the bright wonder, as River turns his face toward the window like a sunflower toward the sky.

It’s the best start to any day.

River has been happily working through each room, decorating it in the brightest colors that he can.

No red, silver, or blacks.

Laurent’s lip curls in distaste, while he squints like he’s blinded every time that he walks into a new room or corridor that River has painted lemon or canary yellow.

I admire Laurent’s self-control that he hasn’t stopped River. Also, how much he loves River that he’s not let on how much I can see he’s itching to take over and tone down the color palette.

But he hasn’t.

In fact, when River, paint-splattered and with his curls pinned back, turned to Laurent with a questioning thumbs up for his brightest yellow wall, Laurent returned it.

“Do you like my renovations, la mia rosa?” River asked, eagerly.

Laurent smiled. “I like anything that you do to make this our home.”

Now that’s true love.

Tonight, River is wearing one of his favorite outfits.

Laurent took him on a date, which included clothes shopping at the mall.

For a man who has only been allowed to wear stained jeans and a t-shirt with the mark of his captivity sewn onto it since he was a kid, it was the most thoughtful date that Laurent could have suggested.

They came back laden down with so many bags that you’d have thought that they’d bought out the entire shop.

River looks older and suave.

Stunning.

The designer blue blazer and trousers brings out the blue in his eyes. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt.

A tulip is tucked into his buttonhole.

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