Page 12 of Broken Omega

Ugh.I don’t want to have to draw up a list of Alphas just so I can pour over it and decide which ones are the least disgusting. I mean, how does a woman even decide if it’s better if her potential husband has a snobby personality, or a weird sexual kink that everyone knows about?

I don’t want people looking at my feet for the rest of my life, wondering if they’re satisfying my pervy mate, but I also don’t want a guy who thinks I’m beneath him because he’s so fantastically successful and remarkably handsome, and I’m an old maid some asshole hoisted on him because he couldn’t refuse the increase in wealth that came with her.

Thinking about it is enough to piss me off.

By the time I get in the car to be taken back to the academy, I’m only sure of one thing.

I can’t choose any of the existing Alphas at Goldcrest.

I don’t like what that might mean for my future, but I can’t deny it’s the truth.

Here’s hoping some fresh, new Alphas arrive this semester.

Anything’s got to be better than what we already have.

KELLAN

It feels good to be out in the sun, even if it seems incredibly bright and I’ve had at least one allergy-induced sneezing-fit since I stepped out of my dark, dingy apartment building. I can feel a second one starting to build up courtesy of my parents’ flowerbeds, the first hint of a tickle making me screw up my nose as I reach out to ring the doorbell.

I grab a tissue out of my pocket and turn away from the door just in time to start sneezing my ass off. It’s unbelievable how much the outside world seems to hate me just for existing.

My mom answers the door when I’m crumpling the tissue up in my hand. As usual, she’s wearing a flowery dress and a cheery smile, and a pair of heels to push her height just over five foot.

Her smile droops quickly when she sees my face. “Oh, Kellan. You look terrible.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I reply. “I really needed that.”

“Did you run out of your antihistamines?” she asks.

“No, I took one before I came over. Dad said you were having computer issues?”

She steps back, hugging me one-armed as she lets me into the house, and, as usual, she lets the door swing closed behind us with a bang. The noise makes me wince. For such a dainty, little woman, my mom can be pretty heavy-handed. She moves ahead of me into the dining room where their ancient PC sits on a desk in the corner of the enclosed space.

“If you need to know what the issues are, you should ask your father,” Mom says, crossing her arms. “As far as I’m concerned that piece of junk is ready for the garbage can.”

“I’ll buy him a new one,” I promise.

“If you do, he’ll probably leave it in the box.”

He probably would. “I’ll set it up for him when I get it. Where is he anyway?”

“Out back talking to Mr. Smith over the hedge.”

“I’ll wait inside,” I tell her, pulling a chair out from the table.

She nods and scrutinizes my face. “You’re not sick, are you? You look so pale.”

“That’s just the curse of working from home, Mom. I don’t get a lot of sun.”

“Hmm. You’re looking skinny again, too.”

“I haven’t lost any weight.”

She always thinks I’ve lost weight, when the truth is I’ve had the same body mass since I turned seventeen. I’ve been slim-built ever since I was a kid, and, at twenty-six, I’m long past the point where a growth-spurt might suddenly come on to bulk me up.

My mom frowns at me as if she’s trying to decide if I’m lying to her. Then she smiles and snaps her fingers. “I made cupcakes this morning! You’ll have one with your sandwiches.”

She turns on her heel and disappears into the kitchen.

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