Life as an omega

"Still alive, mutt?"

"Thought you'd be dead by now with all that scrubbing,"

"Shouldn't she be crawling? That’s what mutts like her do best," another jeered, sending a wad of crumpled paper toward my feet.

Their laughter echoed in the hallway as I kept my head down, pretending their words didn’t dig into my chest. I could think of no better word to describe being an omega for as social a creature as a wolf.

Wolves thrived on their connection with other wolves. But not me. All my life, the only feeling I knew was loneliness. It consumed me, like a festering sore, eating me from the inside, out.

Just like my fellow omegas , the ones who learned that being born weak meant being born forgotten.

We were the shadows of the pack, seen only when someone needed a punching bag or when they wanted us to work as slaves in the pack. 

At eighteen now, most girls my age, spent their time dreaming of their future mates. They had friends. They dressed up and went to parties, casting shy glances at all of the eligible unmated male wolves, wondering, if he might be the one. It was their only care in the world -wondering who the Moon had chosen for them.

It was different on my side. I had no friends, no dreams for the future.

Friends were not an option because the Alpha king banned it. He stopped the upper class werewolves from talking to us.

We were untouchable. Dirty. Broken. Something you didn’t associate with if you valued your place in the pack.

My heart broke at the thought.

And dreams? Dreams were a luxury for girls who had hope. I had none.

I didn’t wonder who the Moon Goddess had chosen for me. I didn’t waste time imagining a strong mate who would sweep me off my feet and pull me out of this life. That kind of thing didn’t happen for girls like me. If fate had paired me with someone, it would be someone just as broken and unwanted as I was if not worse.

Maybe a rogue.

Maybe no one at all because I didn't even have a wolf yet at my own age.  

I shoved the painful thoughts back into the dark recesses of my broken heart and forced myself to focus on the task at hand. I didn’t have time for self-pity.

Responsible for cleaning the suites in the packhouse, I still had four more to finish today. Ten per day, on a rotating schedule, so all thirty suites were cleaned twice a week. It was grueling work.

When I was still young, my quota  used  to be five per day. But after I graduated high school a year early, a fact that should have been a point of pride, the Alpha instead simply doubled my workload. He said idleness bred trouble, and he would not tolerate laziness under his roof.

No other wolf worked twelve hours a day, six days a week. Only the unlucky wolves like me did it.

I sighed, the weight of exhaustion dragging at my bones. Not that it mattered. There was no one waiting for me, even my poor mother , fellow omega, she works in the kitchen every day.

I cringed as I stopped in front of the next door, the Alpha’s suite.

The one I dreaded most.

Swallowing down the knot of unease in my throat, I rapped sharply on the door, loud enough for anyone inside to hear. Even when silence answered, I waited a full ten seconds and knocked again, a little louder. I wasn't going to risk another incident like last month.

Last month, I'd made the mistake of thinking my knock had been sufficient. I thought wrong. When there was no answer, I used my set of keys and entered only to stumble upon a scene straight out of my nightmares.

The Alpha king, completely naked, was ramming into a she-wolf bent over his bed, her cries of pleasure slicing the air. Her breasts bounced violently with each savage thrust, and her head lolled back in mindless bliss.

Paralyzed, my brain refused to compute what my eyes were seeing. I was still so young to see such a thing.

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. My heart hammered in my chest, and for a moment, I felt like fainting. 

I waited, silently, for the punishment that was bound to come. My whole body trembled in anticipation, but nothing came. The Alpha continued, indifferent to my presence, as though I didn’t matter at all.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his head snapped toward me. I braced for rage.

But instead, a slow, knowing smile curled across his lips, without even slowing his merciless rhythm.

Every cell in my body cringed when I saw that. He enjoyed it. My humiliation. My horror.

Frozen, cheeks burning, it took everything in me to break free of the shock. I stumbled backward, choking out a strangled apology before slamming the door and fleeing down the hallway.

I didn’t stop running until I was in the farthest corner of the packhouse, where I collapsed against the cold stone wall, my heart still racing from the horror I had just witnessed. 

I just couldn't believe it that he continued to fuck the she-wolf in my presence. He was really a vile Alpha. It actually didn't make any sense to me, why would any woman want to sleep with such a vile creature as him?

He was still young but known as an Alpha who is ruthless,  coldhearted and didn't have any mate. 

The whispers had always been there, murmurs among the pack members as they worked, trained, and gathered in the packhouse. They couldn’t help but wonder why their Alpha had never taken a mate, why, after the old Alpha had passed and left him to rule, he still hadn’t claimed a Luna.

Some said it was because he was a womaniser,  who always sleeps with every upper class werewolf.

It gave the many shewolves hope that maybe they would be the one he chose as his Luna. But so far he selected none, content just to screw them as toys for his pleasure and left the Luna position unfulfilled over the years. 

For some unexplainable reason,  it kinda hurt me when I found him that time with the she wolf. I now didn't know what I was going to find in his room, this time.