The East Sitting Room

Mari

I don’t remember seeing this room during the tour, but we looked at so many, I really have no idea. The walls are white, like the rest of the house, and the carpet is a pale yellow with a dark blue couch situated in the center of the room. There’s a white overstuffed chair in the corner and the massive bookshelf behind me is also white. Even most of the books have white spines.

White, white, white.

I stare out the large window next to me, looking at the front drive and the perfectly manicured lawn. The mountain tops in the distance bring me a lot of comfort. Stefan is out there somewhere, waiting for me to find him.

“Lift your arms for me, dear.” Mrs. Florence taps my elbow. I do as I’m told and lift my arms up. I feel a little silly, standing like I’m ready to take flight. “We can take this in here.” The beta pinches the lilac fabric at my waist, showing Everly. “And I’m thinking we should take the hem up an inch or two.”

I can see Everly nod out of the corner of my eye, but I’m too busy examining Mrs. Florence’s face. It’s clear that she’s had some work done, making it difficult to pinpoint her age. I assume she’s older, but I have no idea. Her face is weirdly puffy and her upper lip juts out, but it’s the sheen on her immobile forehead that’s the hardest to ignore. I’m honestly a little jealous. Not of the procedures the beta has subjected herself to, but of the freedom she has to do whatever the hell she wants to her body.

It must be nice.

“I can also bring the collar up a little higher.” Mrs. Florence tugs at the dress's shoulders, jerking it upward.

“Please don’t,” I say, hoping like hell I don’t sound bitchy. “It’s already a little tight.” I hook a finger in the collar, trying to pull the scratchy material off of my sensitive skin.

“How is the fabric?” Everly asks. She looks so studious sitting on the couch with her legs crossed and her hands resting gently in her lap. “The lace detail is very pretty. Do you like it?”

I quickly nod, not sure what to say. I mean, it’s not a terrible dress, but the zipper and the lace along the underside of the sleeves itch like a son of a bitch. I don’t want to come across as ungrateful, but I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

“Mari?” Everly’s voice edges even softer, and she tilts her head as she looks up at me. “Is the color okay?”

“Yes. It's great.” I grimace as Mrs. Florence sticks my side with a safety pin.

“Apologies, my dear,” the beta says, pulling the pin out.

Everly squints, quietly looking over my stiff posture and tight expression. “You’re allowed to not like it,” she finally says, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “This fitting is to find things you like. Please, be brutally honest.”

My throat works as I swallow hard. I want to tell her I hate every second of this, and I just want to go lie down. But I can’t be cruel to Everly. While I’ve only known her for a few months now, she’s always been very kind to me on the phone. She seems like a nice person.

But if honesty is what she wants….

“I hate this dress,” I finally say, waiting to be scolded for being rude.

Everly goes still and Mrs. Florence looks at me as if I sprouted a second head.

“I really am very thankful for all of this,” I say, looking deep into Everly’s eyes. I need her to know I mean it. “And I'll wear whatever makes you happy.” As long as it doesn’t strangle me. “But if you want my honest opinion, this dress is horrible.”

“Okay,” Everly says softly as she rises off of the couch. Is she coming over here to slap me for insulting her clothes? She doesn’t seem the type, but you never know what someone is like until you’ve angered them. “This,” she gestures to the pile of fabric Mrs. Florence brought with her, “isn’t about what makes me happy.” She reaches for my hand. “These are your clothes. I want you to pick out the things that you love.”

I don’t know what to say to that. I know that tons of omegas would kill to have custom-made clothes, but I honestly don’t give a shit. Give me a few pairs of leggings and a comfortable shirt, and I’ll be happy. But despite what Everly says, this isn’t about me. It’s about how they can dress me. Show me off. Prove to everyone else that their omega is more spoiled than any other.

“I have lots of other designs,” Mrs. Florence says when I don’t speak. “We can do a more minimalist style or something more modern.” She grabs a thick stack of multi-colored fabrics, moving as if filled with renewed energy. “We can add or remove any details you’d like.” She places the fabric in my hands. “I only brought these designs because,” she pauses, looking at Everly, “this is what your last…” she trails off and Everly clears her throat loudly.

“Let’s look at some finished designs, and find something you like.” Everly moves past me, to the bookshelf. She steps back next to me and my attention snaps to the tablet in her hands.

Where did that come from?

I look over my shoulder, only seeing rows and rows of books. It must have been wedged between them somewhere.

“Come and sit.” Everly walks around the glass coffee table and plops onto the blue couch. The cushions puff up around her and my body aches to find out if it’s as soft as it looks. “Come on.” She pats the spot next to her before tapping on the screen. “I won’t bite.”

My body moves as I stare at the tablet resting on Everly’s knees. I slowly sit and the couch sucks me deep into the cushions. It feels amazing, pulling all the tension out of my back and hips.

“Wow,” I whisper, unable to help myself.

“I know.” Everly leans in, giggling. “It was very important to Izan that the furniture was omega-approved.”

I lean back in my seat, snuggling into the fabric. “I approve.”

Everly smiles so wide, I swear her cheeks are going to pop. “Okay.” She pushes the tablet into my hands and my heart begins to race. “Let’s see what catches your eye.”

I stare at the screen, and my excitement quickly dies. The device is weird compared to the tablets I occasionally got to use at Havenfield. There are no tabs along the top of the screen and there’s no button at the bottom to go back to the home page. It’s a simple, sleek rectangle, displaying a collection of models wearing various outfits, ready for me to scroll through.

“How do I use this?” I ask.

“Omegas aren’t given access to computers at proper academies,” Mrs. Florence says as she sits down next to me. This woman clearly has no idea. “It’s likely that Mari has never even seen the internet before.”

It takes everything in me not to snap at her.

We had computers at Havenfield, but they were locked down. Search results were restricted to omega-safe subjects, and the browser was obviously very out of date.

“How do I do a search?” I ask Everly, keeping my voice light and sweet.

“Is there something specific you’re looking for?” She glances from me to the screen of overly styled outfits.

“I’m not really sure,” I say, realizing that I must sound a little nuts. I mean, I want to know how to do a search, but I’m too tired to come up with a lie. “I’m not sure.” Panic grips me for half a second, then I smile as convincingly as I can. “These leggings are nice.” I point to one of the images.

Everly leans in, looking at the screen with me. She smells kind of velvety, like baby powder and lavender, mixed with something milky. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was fake. Lavender is a common scent for omegas and even alphas. There are so many natural lavender oils that it’s fairly easy for betas to fake it without their aroma coming across as synthetic.

But either way, I like it.

With Everly’s help, I pick out a few simple dresses—no lace, buttons, or high collars. I also select several outfits with pants. We order pajamas, slacks, a pair of satin blue dress slacks, two pairs of jeans, and about a dozen pairs of leggings. Apparently, they’re Everly’s favorite thing to wear around the house too.

Once we’re done, I change back into my ugly pink dress. I swear the collar has shrunk, digging into the sides of my neck.

I desperately need a break.

I swear my body is growing more tense by the second. And if I can’t get away from all of these damn people soon, I might just snap.

“What are you lovely ladies up to?” The twins stroll into the room. They’re dressed similarly. Both in jeans. One is wearing a black fitted T-shirt, and the other is wearing gray. I squint trying to figure out who is who. “I hope you’re not having too much fun without us?” One of them winks at me, and I instantly know it’s Dassy. Has Hutch even spoke since I arrived?

I glance at the other twin. His expression is intense as always, but there’s something soft in the way he looks at me. I can’t put my finger on it.

“We’ve just finished some shopping,” Everly says, pulling the tablet out of my hands. I watch her quietly as she crosses the room, placing it on top of a row of books.

Hopefully, it’ll still be there tonight.

“Doesn’t young Mari look lovely in pink?” Mrs. Florence gives me a flirty look, and I have to force myself not to frown.

“Mari doesn’t need a dress to be lovely.” Dassy sits on the back of the couch. His eyes sparkle, filled with a playful energy. “But I think our omega prefers greens and blues, over pink.” He looks deep into my eyes. “Isn’t that right?”

I can’t help but smile as I nod, and Everly makes a pleased sound, talking to Mrs. Florence about changing the colors to a few of the dresses in our order.

“Are you having fun?” Dassy asks as he leans in, but I don’t answer. I’m too busy admiring the alpha’s strong jawline and long nose. He really does have an impressive profile and his scent…This is the first time I’ve had to really pull in his aroma, and he smells good . Kind of like a tuft of wild herbs, mixed with something spicy like cinnamon or licorice. It reminds me of living in the woods.

I glance at Hutch wondering if his scent is just as identical to his brother as the rest of him. Hutch is still staring at me, but the look in his eyes isn’t scary. It's more curious. Like he’s trying to figure me out. I don’t think I care for it.

“Well, if you’re all done.” Dassy moves around the couch, stopping right in front of me. “Your room is all ready, my lady.” He holds out his hand, giving me a slight bow. It makes the tips of his hair push forward, falling across his forehead. “Can I interest you in a nap?”

Eager to get out of here, I don’t even take time to think about it as I blurt out a firm, “Yes.”