Page 80 of Roulette Rodeo
"Do you have circulation problems?"
The question catches me off guard.
"Maybe? I think it might be genetic, actually. My mom had something similar, but she never really got it checked out because..." I trail off.
Because we were poor.
Because Dad drank away the money.
Because she was too busy dying to worry about her legs going numb.
"When my legs get too cold or too hot, they basically freeze up," I continue, focusing on the easier part. "Same thing if I stay still for too long. It's like they forget they're supposed to work."
"Have you gotten it checked?"
I laugh, but it's bitter. "By who? The hack doctor Marnay kept on staff who was more interested in making sure we could work than actually healthy? Or maybe I should have used my generous salary to see a specialist?"
He frowns, and I can see he's bothered by something.
"Well," I shrug, trying to lighten the mood. "I guess now that I'm out of the Crimson Roulette, I could use some of my earnings to see a proper omega doctor. You know, one who actually went to medical school instead of getting their degree from a cereal box."
I look at him, suddenly realizing I should probably ask permission.
Old habits and all that.
"Is that okay with you?"
His eyebrow arches in confusion.
"Is what okay?"
"Me seeing a doctor. Using my money for medical stuff." I fidget with the bubbles, not meeting his eyes. "I mean, you guys own me now, so I should probably ask permission before?—"
"No."
The word is sharp enough that I flinch, water sloshing. But when I look up, his expression isn't angry. It's... something else…like he's in physical pain.
"You're not a puppet or a toy," he says, voice rough. "You have free will with us."
"But—"
"The only thing I'd ask is that you don't go running off into the wilderness alone. There are bears, wolves, and probably Bigfoot knowing this place. It's dangerous."
I gawk at him, trying to process this.Free will.The concept feels foreign after three years of asking permission to pee.
"What if I wanted to run away?"
The question slips out before I can stop it. His response surprises me—he smirks, actually smirks, like the idea amuses him.
"Then you'd tell me first, right? Let me in on the secret?" He winks, and my stomach does something complicated. "I wouldn't tell the others. As long as I knew you were safe."
My eyes soften, and I can feel something in my chest unraveling. This man, this alpha who bought me for a hundred million dollars, is saying he'd let me go if I wanted. Would help me, even.
"You'd really do that?"
"I'd rather you stayed," he admits, and there's vulnerability in it that makes my breath catch. "But I'm not going to cage you. That's not... that's not who we are. Who I am."
We stare at each other, something heavy and important passing between us.
