Page 12 of The Demon's Pet

To distract myself from the pain, I pulled out an old paperback from the box full of books I kept stored under my bed. Every time the thrift store in town (which sold human goods from before the great divide) had a book, I spent part of my measly allowance to make it mine.

Books had always been my lifeline. I’d always had a quick mind, always been eager to learn, and when they prevented me from going to the haven’s small college after my omega assignation, books were my savior.

I’d always loved them as a child.

Stuck up here in my room after so many punishments, I’d found solace in beautiful words.

Of course, I’d started reading classics because those were cheap or free from the village store most of the time.

Les Misérableshad always been one of my favorites, a tale of redemption and humanity and kindness and mercy toward those less fortunate or less powerful.

I also lovedAnne of Green Gables, where I got to live adventures with a little red-headed girl whose imagination helped her escape as much as mine did.

When I got a bit older, I found young adult novels and romance novels and fantasy novels.

The paperback I’d just pulled out was a fantasy romance with heroes that believed in the humanity and strength of their heroines.

They treated their mates like equals.

If only I could have something like that.

I opened the book and began to flip through the pages and felt all my worries slowly fade away as I melted into the story.

All worries, all cares, all thoughts of being a hopeless omega drifted away, and I was another person. Someone who had a chance to fight for what they deserved.

I paused when I got to the first appearance of the villain.

He had large black wings. I blinked, remembering Sam at the village. Damn it, there had been four angels, but I had to be obsessed with the one with tattoos and a terrible attitude.

He’d called me an idiot. That still stung.

But the more I read, the more I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and when the hero and heroine got to the first love scene, for some reason, my brain conjured an image of me and Sam.

Him pinning me to the wall, kissing me, powerful wings extended behind him.

And I was enjoying it.

I tossed aside the book and shook my head, thinking the stress of the day had just made me crazy.

I wasn’t going to kiss anyone, let alone an angel.

I turned on my side and snuggled into my pillow, gazing at the window as I slowly began to fall asleep.

Sam’s sleepy, sloe-eyed gaze was the last thing on my mind as I drifted off.

The next thing I knew, my mother was shaking me, her hand on my shoulder, her words blurry through my still-sleepy brain.

“You need to get up, Cleo. Come on, it’s time for the ceremony. Your father’s outside…”

The nervousness infusing her tone made me push myself up with a groan, and I eyed the dress and nodded.

For now, I’d go along. But soon, I’d show them all what I thought of the omega program and every alpha in this gods-damned town.

4

My scalp ached, my legs felt horribly naked, and I didn’t like or recognize the woman in the mirror, but I’d somehow managed to shower and groom my hair into a presentable enough state to avoid another beating from my father.

He never held himself accountable for what he did to me. He always said it was his job to “help me glorify my calling.”

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