The Guest

Soren's eyes burned with unshed tears, his hands trembling as he reached for the man's bulge. Is this all I'll ever be? Just something for Alphas to take? He thought to himself.

Before his fingers could make contact, a loud, impatient knock echoed through the room.

"Master Garreth," a voice called from the other side of the door. "The Commander and his guests have arrived early."

The Master hissed in frustration, shoving Soren aside.

Soren hit the cold floor, his palms stinging from the impact. But he didn't move to get up. Didn't even flinch. He just watched as the man hurriedly dressed.

"Go help in the kitchen," the Master ordered, adjusting his coat. "You'll be serving the guests tonight." His sharp eyes landed on Soren. "And you will smile and be polite."

Soren didn't respond.

The Master's expression darkened. He strode over, yanking Soren up by the arm. Soren cringed at the rough grip.

"Did you hear me?"

"Yes," Soren mumbled, nodding quickly.

The Master released him with a sneer. "Good. Now get out of my sight."

Soren hurried from the room, heart pounding.

The kitchen was hot, filled with the rich aroma of roasting meat and fresh bread. The smell the only he missed about home. Two women worked over the fire, barely sparing him a glance as the older one gestured toward the trays.

"You'll serve the Alpha guests," she instructed. "Keep your head low. Don't speak unless spoken to."

Soren gave a small nod, observing how she balanced the tray with practised ease.

The door swung open, and a small boy staggered inside, dragging a heavy sack of corn flour. He wasn't even a teenager yet, his thin arms trembling under the weight.

Soren moved before thinking. "Here, let me help you."

The boy shot him a sharp look. "Focus on your job."

But Soren ignored him, grabbing the other side of the sack and helping him haul it outside to a waiting cart.

As they carried more supplies inside, the boy suddenly tripped, his foot catching on a loose stone. A glass jar tumbled from his grasp, shattering against the ground.

Before the boy could even get up, the sharp crack of a whip split the air.

Soren flinched, turning just in time to see a merchant raising his whip again, his face twisted in fury.

"You clumsy brat! You're making me lose money!"

Soren moved instinctively, stepping between them just as the whip came down again. The leather snapped against his arm, wrapping around his wrist before the merchant yanked it back. Pain lanced through him, a stinging welt blooming across his skin.

The boy scrambled up, his face streaked with tears. "I-I'm sorry!"

Soren caught sight of the scars peeking from beneath the boy's collar as he adjusted his shirt. He's been beaten before. Many times.

Soren turned his glare on the merchant. "If you want someone more careful, maybe you shouldn't make a child do your work."

The merchant's face darkened, grip tightening on the whip...

"Soren!" The soft-spoken Omega from before appeared in the doorway, his voice panicked. "The Master is calling you."

Soren wondered if he was in trouble. He turned and walked inside, ignoring the merchant's furious scowl.

The Omega fell into step beside him, keeping his voice low. "You shouldn't interfere."

"He was about to beat a child," Soren hissed.

The Omega shook his head. "Here, Omegas are at the bottom of the priority list—even when we belong to someone. Don't draw attention to yourself."

Soren clenched his jaw but said nothing more.

By the time he stepped into the dining hall, his arm still stung from the whip. He kept his head bowed as he carried the tray, the rich scent of roasted venison and spiced wine mixing with the overwhelming musk of Alphas.

Three men sat at the table together with the Master.

Two wore military uniforms, their posture rigid with authority. The third, however, was dressed in a sleek black suit. His dark hair, streaked with silver, was slicked back neatly.

Soren forced his hands to stay steady as he served them.

One of the soldiers glanced at him. "A new slave?"

The Master chuckled. "Yes. And a beautiful one at that."

His hand snaked around Soren's waist, pulling him close. Soren stiffened, his smile faltering as fear crawled up his spine.

The man in the suit watched him with sharp, unreadable eyes.

Soren forced himself to finish serving, his hands shaking. When he was finally dismissed, he exhaled softly in relief and hurried back to the kitchen.

That evening, Soren was ordered to bathe...again.

He had just stepped into the steaming water when a soft knock sounded at the door. The young boy he had helped earlier slipped inside, carrying a silk robe.

Soren frowned. The boy seemed nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"What's wrong?" Soren asked.

"Nothing."

The boy turned to leave, but then he hesitated. His voice was barely above a whisper as he asked. "Are you… the spy they were talking about?"

Soren's breath caught.

 He went still, his mind racing. "What?"

The boy glanced around, lowering his voice further. "I heard one of the soldiers tell the man in the suit. They said… the beautiful one with long silver hair is the spy." He hesitated, then added, "But you don't look like a spy."

Soren's heart pounded.

He swallowed hard. "Don't tell anyone you heard that," he said firmly. "You'll get in trouble for listening in on the Alphas."

The boy nodded quickly and hurried out.

Soren's hands trembled as he brushed his long hair, twisting it into a bun.

He was in danger. He wondered how the omegas he came in with were doing, but the thought quickly faded as he arrived at the door. 

Slowly, he swung it open.

The bedroom was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting shadows across the four-poster bed. The sheets were deep crimson, luxurious and soft.

And lounging on the bed was the man in the suit.

Only now, he was shirtless, revealing a strong, well-built body. His dark eyes gleamed as he watched Soren enter.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Soren bowed his head. "I don't have one. I was raised an orphan."

The Alpha hummed in amusement. "Then I'll call you Selene."

Soren blinked. "Selene? Why?"

"You remind me of the moon reflected in the sea."

The Alpha stood, moving toward him with slow steps. He circled Soren like a predator, his fingers trailing lightly down Soren's spine, making him shiver.

"What do you know about the war?" the Alpha asked suddenly.

Soren chose his words carefully. "Only what I've heard people say."

The Alpha tilted his head. "Aren't you tired of it?"

Soren's jaw tightened. "The only thing I'm tired of is Omegas being passed around like they mean nothing. I don't care if a bunch of Alphas want to kill each other to prove something."

The Alpha laughed. A genuine, amused laugh.

Soren frowned. He had never seen an Alpha smile like that.

Then, the man's hand wrapped around Soren's neck—not tight, but firm. He untied Soren's robe, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"I like delicate things like you," he murmured. "But I love them even more when they're scared… yet still defiant."

The robe slipped off Soren's shoulders, leaving him naked.

The Alpha pulled him close, burying his nose in the crook of Soren's neck.

Then his voice turned cold.

"Tell me, Soren…"

The hand around his throat tightened.

"Why is a beautiful, feeble Omega like yourself a spy?"