Page 2 of Stolen Omega

Anna clears her throat.

I snap out of my thoughts to glance at her.

She’s already put my killer heels back on the stand under my clothes rail, and she’s waiting for me to turn around so she can get me out of this outfit. Right. My little moment of thought paused our silent routine. I turn and bunch my long dark hair up in my hands so she can loosen the ties of the corset. A few seconds later, it’s sliding to the floor along with the sparkling hotpants that are attached to the bottom.

Stepping back, I watch Anna pick up the outfit and give it a shake.

There was a time when I would cover myself with my hands under these circumstances, way back when I used to let being naked in front of a stranger freak me out. It took a few months to realize I was being dumb. Anna’s insistence on complete professionalism has an upside.

It didn’t feel weird to be naked in front of her once I realized she wasn’t going to become a friend or confidante. She’s only here to do her job. It’s oddly reassuring.

Heading into the bathroom, I leave Anna to re-lace the corset and hang up the outfit for tomorrow night’s encore while I clean myself up and change into my casual clothes.

One more night in the city, and we move on to the next stop.

The tour’s almost over, and I’m anticipating a request from my management to add more dates before it actually ends, just like every other time I’ve started a tour after my obligatory two month annual ‘break’ to write new songs and record them. Eight-month tours always roll into ten months.

If it looks like I’m about to protest the lack of a break, I get reminded of how lucky I am to be such a hot property. By my parents and my management, both.

It’s up to me to capitalize on my popularity to keep this dream I’ve worked all my life for going.

I’m fully aware of how good I’ve got it.

All I really wish is that I could slow down a little.

Make time for some of the things I’ve been missing out on.

Friends are almost impossible to come by.

Despite being surrounded by backup dancers and singers during the tour, I don’t get enough time to chat with them to forge any real connections. I know their names, but I don’t know them. With Anna it feels even worse, because we’re around each other all the time, and she’s made it crystal clear that she’s only at my side to look after my career.

I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to talk my parents into asking Brooke’s father if my best friend in the world could come along for this ride with me. The girl has legit makeup artist skills, and I know she doesn’t want to be cooped up in an Omega Academy. Unfortunately, my parents won’t entertain that request, and the one time I called Warren Corvina to ask him personally, that asshole hung up on me instead of saying no.

Accepting the fact that I’m on my own out here was never a real option, but it makes me crazy that the only real friendship I’ve forged is with someone I wish I could have more with.

It’s never going to happen, but I can’t help the way he makes me feel.

I bite down on my lip as I run the water for my post-show shower.

I know better than most that wishing for things I can’t have only leads to heartache, but some small part of me is still hanging on to hope.

All I really want is someone who’s in my corner.

Someone I can talk to who gives a damn about how I’m feeling.

I think I’ve found that person, and I want to hold on tight and never let go.

That sinking feeling I get after a show’s over doesn’t continue when he’s around.

My euphoria settles down into a stable, contented kind of bliss.

I could get addicted to that feeling. I think I already am.

I know he enjoys my company, but it would be easy for a girl who’s been deprived of normal experiences for so long to mistake a friendship for something deeper.

An Omega’s instincts aren’t sharp. They’re too colored by emotions.

Trusting mine could be fatal.

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