The wolfless omega

A second tea

I'd already learned the rules of being small in this pack.

Never be the first out the door, and never be the last because they both get noticed. Always answer slowly and never answer twice. Laugh late at people's jokes and never be good at anything a rank wolf would love to be good at.

The kitchen made those rules easy for me. In the kitchen, glory is never rewarded. Those who kept their heads down while moving were the ones rewarded. For three days, I was the best Blackridge had ever hired. I fetched water, did the dishes, and mopped the floors. I left no room for trouble and I apologized whenever Vera's friends knocked my tray off.

One morning I went to the kitchen, and Hettie was already there. I tiptoed behind her as I swallowed against my dry throat.

"Hey, girl, come here," Hettie said. My hand dropped to my side. That was the first time she called me "girl" instead of "stray."

"Tam burned his hands on the milk pan," she added, as she dropped the tray in front of me. "You're on the alpha tea. His office, don't spill it."

I wrapped my hand around my torso. All week long, I did hall tray and avoided that office.

"Okay, ma'am," I responded. If only I could go against the roster or Hettie, I would trade anything for that right now.

I carried the tea to the office.

The office was in the great hall. Three steps above. When I got there, the door was wide open, and a cold breeze was drifting out. Joss stood by the corner, one of the men from the ford. I stepped inside. Joss's gaze drifted from me to the shelves and back, like he was counting the jars, but he was too stiff to turn properly.

The alpha sat alone behind the large brown desk, wearing a plain grey shirt with road dust still on his cuffs as he flipped through a stack of papers.

His gaze was fixed on the paper even as I walked in. I set the tray on the desk, took out the cup of tea, and turned the handle to his right hand before stepping back and facing the ground.

He didn't say a word, so I faced the door. I was two steps from the door when a noise started in the hall. Tam stumbled through with a large basket of morning bread pressed against his chest, clutching it awkwardly with his bandaged hand.

The basket clipped the door frame, sending Tam to the floor. The loaves tumbled from the basket, hit the shelf, and knocked over the big copper kettle filled with hot water, going straight onto Tam.

I was six steps away.

Without thinking, my hand snapped around the very bottom of the kettle handle arc. All I could hear in that moment was my father's guard-captain voice: _You fall without breaking, and you catch without spilling. They're the same trick._ I set the kettle on the floor. Only a few drops had spilled.

The hall went silent.

Tam stared at me. Joss also stared at me, and from the desk, the alpha's hands were frozen mid-writing. Alpha Roman Cade stared at me as if he had just watched something completely impossible.

My heart skipped. I pulled my hand from the kettle handle to my chest fast as I stared back at the alpha. "The shelf caught my eye," I said to the room, my voice flat. "Sorry, Alpha. Sorry, Tam. It slipped."

"It slipped..." I could hear how stupid it sounded. Even the girls peeping through the doorway traded looks.

Hettie came running to the hall, pulled Tam to his feet by the collar, and smacked my shoulder for standing in the way. Tam was just nine years old and had always been clumsy. As she dragged him out the doorway, the whole place exhaled and went back to being quiet.

"Omega," the voice behind me came low and smooth. "Look at me."

I turned towards the alpha. My body was shaking, and I kept trying to keep it still.

"What's your name?"

"Em."

"Where were you before Blackridge?"

"South of the river," my voice dull. "Nowhere worth naming."

A smirk curled his mouth. "Who taught you how to catch like that?"

"Nobody, Alpha. It slipped."

He stood up.

I stepped back. The alpha loomed over me. He rolled his sleeves back onto his cuffs; in that moment, the air in the room went cold. This time he was within arm's reach. His scent filled my nose; I could taste the pine on my tongue. A tap pulsed inside me as he moved closer. My wolf, which had been silent for weeks, began to rise. I tried to reach it, but it was difficult.

"Your hands," he said, nodding his head. "Give me one."

I held out my right hand, my palm facing down, shaking a little. He took me by the wrist, turned it over, and stared at the rope mark on my hand. His thumb slid up and down my forearm slowly towards my sleeve. My mouth went dry.

A tray crashed onto the sideboard.

"Your tea's been sitting two minutes," Hettie announced to the room in a husky tone. She moved into the doorway with a fresh pot, a furrowed brow. "It'll stew. It's for drinking, not looking at."

His thumb stopped.

Alpha Roman stared at me for a couple of seconds before letting go of my wrist. He stepped back and picked up his tea as if the last minute had never happened.

"One inch, little omega," he said into the cup. "Next time I'll ask you, not the kettle."

I got out of there and went down the hall. My hands didn't start shaking until I sat down on my bed. Then they wouldn't stop.

I stared at my right hand. He had read my hand--because why would he stare at my scar for that long? What's worse is that the roster keeps us on the same duty for two days straight, so I would take tea to the alpha tomorrow.

"One more night," I mumbled to myself.