Page 9 of Alpha Ruined
But the bedroom is the best part.
The canopy four post bed is in wood so dark it’s almost black, and the pristine white sheets are ridiculously soft to the touch. A small desk, much tinier than the one in the adjacent room, sits near it, with a matching upholstered chair.
She groans as she lies on the mattress, the plush material sinking in only slightly as it caresses her body like a cloud.
The attached bathroom has a generous glass shower and a white claw-foot bathtub next to it, big enough to fit at least two people.
The view from the upstairs windows is exquisite, showcasing the lush trees and the cabins dotted in between them.
As she unpacks, her phones buzzes with a text from her mother.
Checking in. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you what to do. I know you’re an adult and you make your own choices.
Her smile falters.
Her mother is trying. The least she can do is try, too.
I know. I’m sorry too. I made it here safe. Will text you tomorrow.
But the bitterness of the guilt stays with her as she continues unpacking.
She places her nesting blankets in the walk-in closet and is surprised to find piles of extra blankets on the shelves.
In fact, she would rent this place just to have her Heat. It’s safe, relaxing, luxurious…
She lets the thought fade away.
She’s not going into Heat here.
But she still drapes some extra blankets on the bed just because she can.
She’s sittingat the desk in the office, watching the sunset, when there’s a knock at the door.
She freezes. She’s not expecting anyone, and the only people that know she’s in Green Woods are Carl and her mother.
There’s another knock.
Grabbing her phone, she heads down the stairs and to the door. With the generous window space, she sees a frowning middle-aged man in a plaid shirt and jeans.
He knocks again, more insistent.
With a huff, she unlatches the lock and opens the door.
The Beta man clearly wasn’t expecting her, and his frown turns into a deep scowl. “Oh. Are you Helene’s daughter?” he demands, wobbling on his feet. The stench of alcohol wafts off him so strongly that Bree wrinkles her nose.
“No,” she says. “I’m not.”
“You staying here?” he asks angrily. “Helene is renting her place right now?”
“Yes, I’m staying here,” she confirms, then adds as an afterthought, “with my husband.”
She’ll be damned if this man knows that she’s here alone.
“Oh.” He steadies himself and his bloodshot eyes meet hers. “You should be careful, you know. We’re not taking any tourists right now. Not with that inmate killing the Omega.”
He says it pointedly while staring at her neck, and Bree swallows nervously.
It feels like a violation, the way his eyes lock onto her mating gland. It’s invasive, and the look on his face makes something in her gut churn.