Page 11 of The Demon's Pet

He released me with a sigh, stepping back from me. “Don’t run again. There are border guards near where I caught you. If you run again, you’re going to have it worse than you ever have.” He took a few steps away. “And, Cleo, please behave at the ceremony. Please think about your future, and your family, as you consider what to do.”

Then he shifted into his wolf and bounded away, probably late to the ceremony.

“Hmph,” I muttered to myself as I cast one more glance longingly at the horizon where the sun could no longer be seen. It was twilight, and the purple haze over everything cast it in a more romantic light.

My village was beautiful.

I would miss it.

But despite what Bran said, I was definitely going to try and run away again, and I’d fight like hell at the ceremony. I couldn’t stay here, even if my rank moved up in the system. I’d always be an omega, and I’d never been able to submit.

Something in my heart just felt wrong about it all.

I slumped into the house, irritation rising in me when I saw my mom’s face sag in relief as she paused in folding rags to watch me come in.

I walked over to help her fold the laundry because she was older, after all, and I didn’t mind the chores of an omega.

Plus, my head was still rushing with Bran’s words.

I could be the mate of an alpha. I would have power over all those who hurt me…

But I would still never be the owner of my own life, the captain of my ship.

It wasn’t enough.

When I was finished helping my mother, she pulled me in for a kiss to the forehead, and I didn’t fight her because, despite everything, I couldn’t hate her.

She was just part of this messed-up system, and while sometimes I could be furious with her, I knew I was only displacing my real rage.

Her crimes had always been of omission, and what power did she have to intervene anyways?

I pulled away from her and tried not to slump as I headed up to my room.

Right now, all the alphas would be meeting with the celestials, and the celestials would lay their hands on the alpha’s heads and bestow blessings, approving each alpha to have power over those he ruled.

They would drink fine wine, and there would be hymns, and all the betas would cheer.

And no omegas were allowed there.

No, we were supposed to be home preparing for the ceremony instead, which would happen at midnight, when the moon was high and full.

Fuck.

All the newly anointed alphas, and any previously anointed but unmated alphas, would have the chance to then reward themselves for their ordination by choosing a mate.

I was just supposed to sit and look pretty and show off just how far I could bend my neck bowing for them.

I’d seen omegas that looked ready to snap themselves in half to catch the right alpha’s attention.

I glanced at the closet where my dress was hanging, flapping slightly in the breeze from my still-open window.

It was simple and sack-like, with a sash around the middle. My mother had never been much of a seamstress, and I’d told her not to make too much of an effort.

I’d called it a shroud because, for me, the day I found an owner (no matter how they called it a mate) would be the death of everything that mattered in me.

My heart. My soul.

My independence.

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