Page 17 of Ruthless Alpha
“Sorry,” I muttered. Rosie was trembling slightly, and I cursed my own thoughtlessness. Of course, she wouldn’t be ready for this; she still sometimes flinched when I closed a cupboard door too hard.
“It’s fine,” she whispered. “Go again.”
“We don’t have to—”
“I want to. Go again.”
I walked slowly back to the opposite wall, giving her time to collect herself before we tried again. When I turned around, she already had a ball in her hand, raised and ready for me. She was still trembling slightly, but she’d given me an order and I was going to follow it.
I went again.
Chapter 8 - Rosie
I didn’t know what Xander wanted from me. I kept the house spotless, but he didn’t seem to care; then again, my uncle had never seemed to care, either, until something happened that meant the floors were unswept and the kitchen cluttered when he returned home. Unlike my uncle, Xander did seem to appreciate it when I cooked. He made the time to compliment the food and had offered to clean the dishes more than once. It was an offer I always refused, not knowing what might be expected in return. My uncle had always insisted that I owed him for putting a roof over my head, for giving me a warm place to sleep at night.
Every freedom I ever had was earned through hard work, but on Ensign, that hard work got me nowhere. If I wanted fresh air, I could do circuits of Xander’s backyard, but it didn’t make me feel any less caged. I was like one of those poor animals that humans kept in cages for their entertainment, circling and circling my enclosure until I eventually went insane.
At the very least, I’d been pleasantly surprised by our impromptu training session, and I found myself eager to try again. I tried not to think about the heat of Xander’s body against mine when he’d pinned me to the wall, how his scent had overwhelmed me, dampening the fear that thrilled down my spine at the suddenness of his proximity.
I hadn’t been the only one affected. I wasn’t innocent enough to mistake the desire in his eyes, and I hated the way it made me catch my own breath, the way it made me feel hot between my legs. There was no point in denying that my husband was a beautiful man, but I still hadn’t chosen him. I still couldn’t leave him if I wanted to.
But I could use his feelings to my advantage. He might have said he didn’t want me on that first night, but I’d heard him on the radio with his friend, calling me beautiful. Perhaps if he thought I was content, if I gave him what he wanted and acted like I was happy, like I wanted to spend time with him, then he’d soften the rules surrounding my freedom. If I offered him my body—better than waiting for his patience to run out, better than waiting for him to take it—then maybe I could sweet-talk him into letting me out on my own.
I shuddered at the thought of it, of being reduced to using my virginity as a bargaining chip, but these were the cards I’d been dealt. I’d survived ten years of my uncle’s abuse, and I would survive Ensign, too, as long as I played those cards right. I couldn’t just flutter my eyelashes at him and hope he took up the invitation—I would need something more obvious. The sad pile of clothes he’d brought from the laundry wasn’t going to help, that was for sure. Some of them did fit, and they were far more comfortable than the dress I’d been sold in, but they weren’t exactly going to tantalize my husband.
I had only the vaguest outline of a plan when I went down to start preparing breakfast, but it started with being nice.
“Good morning,” I said, as Xander emerged from the basement, sweaty and panting. He blinked back at me, surprised.
“Good morning,” he replied. “Breakfast smells great.”
He always told me breakfast smelled great. After his morning workout, I was pretty sure that any hot food would smell great to him, but I made sure to give him a half-smile for the compliment, as if I was trying not to show my pleasure.
“I was uh—I was wondering if you could take me down to the laundry this morning,” I said as I put the plate of eggs and bacon in front of him. “Most of the clothes you brought don’t fit.”
“I’ve got training this morning,” he told me, “but I can drop you off on the way there and ask one of the patrols to pick you up a little later. Would half an hour be enough?” I could tell he was expecting me to argue with him, to say it was ridiculous that I couldn’t go down to the laundry on my own. Itwasridiculous that I couldn’t go to the laundry on my own, but that was not the point this morning.
“That would be perfect, thank you,” I said sweetly.
Once breakfast was cleared away, I was shepherded into a low, squat building near Xander’s house. The fall weather outside was starting to grow chilly, but the air inside the laundry was hot and damp from the steaming vats over which a dozen women were bent, scrubbing, rinsing, or wringing out clothes.
All eyes turned to us as we entered, but Xander was looking at a woman with greying hair and piercing blue eyes. Women couldn’t be Alphas, but if this laundry was a Pack, she was certainly in charge.
“Rosie, this is Lenise. She runs the laundry like a military operation, so stay on her good side,” said Xander, and Lenise rolled her eyes with a smile, deepening the expressive lines of her face.
“Ha! I can tell when you’re trying to butter me up, Alpha,” she retorted. “What do you want?”
“Rosie here needs a few more clothes,” Xander explained. “The ones I picked up didn’t fit.”
“Obviously, they didn’t. Look at her,” Lenise scoffed. “Leave her with me.”
Xander nodded his thanks, giving my arm a gentle squeeze.
“Cole will pick you up in about twenty minutes,” he said, and then he was gone.
I never thought I would miss his presence in a room, but the moment he left me alone, there was no one else for the laundresses to stare at. I felt like a child in a school play, standing in front of the Pack, not knowing any of my lines. What did that want me to do? Was I supposed to say something?
“Everyone, back to work. You’re not here to ogle some poor girl.” Lenise snapped, and I let out a sigh of relief as the women hurried to resume their tasks. Turning back to me, Lenise pointed to a few neat baskets of folded clothes in the corner. “Have a root through those. I’m not making any promises about fit, though. We don’t make girls like you on Ensign.”
