Page 19 of Choosing Her Alpha
Sasha's father used Maura's dilapidated storefront property to create a fully functional pub, distillery, and inn. Most of it had been constructed from salvage torn from the bones of abandoned buildings. When he bought new things, it had been equipment to make the alcohol.
Sasha’s home had been wood, plastic, and metal sheets. Garbage. She always thought of it as this functional patchwork of her dad's determined resourcefulness. She was proud of her home and the living it provided, and when she offered it to Kane as a business arrangement, she knew she was offering something of value.
After traveling the sectors, exposed to a new understanding of how they functioned, she saw her home in a new light. This place shined the light brighter still. As a slum lord, Kane must rival the king for wealth.
This place was beautiful. It looked clean, smelled clean, and felt new. Nothing was recycled, reused, or resourced. Even the light fixtures looked new,andthey all matched. She remembered suddenly how incredible she thought the laundry room and kitchens were, how impossibly functional the spaces used by lowly drones were. The whitewashed walls matched Terasa's outfit, untainted by lacy black spots of mold. Clear of cobwebs from biting midge spiders, every corner she saw was pristine. There were no holes or haphazard patches. The floors—some gray carpet, some hardwood—appeared as clean as a dinner plate. She couldn't imagine the wealth it had taken to put this establishment together.
Terasa led her far from Kane's rooms and up a set of stone stairs that split two ways at the top to a short landing with double doors. On their way, they passed an alpha dressed in black. His eyes flicked over Sasha and caught on her necklace.
Introducing him as a guard, Terasa said, "Now girl, remember, he's not a servant. But if you feel like you're in trouble or the girls get into a catfight, you come right to him. Alright? Anything else, one of the servants in the big room can see to your needs."
Dazedly, Sasha just nodded.
Terasa guided her into a room drenched in color and tactile experiences. Sasha’s mouth dropped open in amazement as she took in the open space with all its feminine details. Gentle laughter from a woman on one of the couches alerted Sasha to what she must look like—big eyed and gaping – staring like she never imagined such a place could exist.
And she hadn’t. How could she?
Seated in rich splendor were five women, dressed head to foot in different jewel tones. They matched the room. Or rather, the room matched them. Beautiful, perfectly arranged.
A giggle bubbled up inside her. Like a picture or advertisement, this place was far too nice for Sasha. The likes of her, a little brown thing with her dry hands and cracked fingernails, didn’t belong here. She knew there must be some mistake. In contrast to the soft layered rugs on the floor, up to the ceiling hung with embroidered floral panels and glass dew drops, and the prettied up women themselves; Sasha did not fit.
Red and amber quilted couches and a platform lounger commanded the majority of space. Lining the walls were tents with peaked tops and draped sides. Terasa led her to a tent nearest a set of wall length picture windows. The windows were the room’s best feature, but also, the one that struck Sasha as the most wastefully extravagant. One rock thrown from the outside and they would shatter into a million pieces. Who could dare such a luxury?
"Alright, here is your private sleeping space. I know it's just a fabric, but no one, and I mean no one, not even our alpha, will cross the threshold without your permission. It's one of the most sacred rules of this room. It's more than just rude to invade someone's space. The alpha will have you beaten for it."
That sounded frightening and wonderful at the same time.
"You need some new clothes. Do you have any belongings?"
She had stashed her clothing in a ditch behind the laundry house, and Sasha could just imagine this perfect woman's face if she were asked to retrieve them.
"My stuff is at home," she said. "He didn't say—"
Taking after the warlord of this house, Terasa cut her off. "By the look of you, you'd probably like some new things. I'll take care of that in a bit, okay?"
Her voice was kind, if condescending. She raised it and looked over Sasha's head to the jeweled ladies laid out like decorations.
"Ladies, this is little Sasha. She needs a full make-over. Who is interested?"
Like bread crusts thrown to trap seagulls for dinner, the five women who had been watching Sasha'sentrance,descended in a flurry. One picked up her drone braid with a light tug.
"Can't have this, and so dry," the woman declared. The rest started at the top of Sasha’s head and decided to work down, announcing every flaw as they came upon it.
“You have a sweet face, dear, but these eyebrows!" the red-headed, emerald jewel said, like Sasha's eyebrows had engaged in immoral and degrading behavior.
"And your poor lips! Are you thirsty, child? You're so chapped. Not only do you need a milk bath, but I think you need some milk." The black-haired jewel in red met Sasha's eyes and smiled.
One pulled on the gray drone uniform as if it had been Sasha's attempt at a fashion statement.
The brown-haired jewel wearing purple held up Sasha's left hand for all to see. "Oh, you poor dear. These root beds! Your fingers look absolutely painful. I'm sorry to say they will take more than one treatment, and your elbows as well. I agree—a milk bath, moisturizer, and a wax too. You are as hairy as a kitten."
Sasha had no idea what was going on. Who were these women? They smelled like wildflowers… and Constantine Kane. These women were swathed in comfortable sensuality, the traditional wrapped style of dress clinging to their breasts and hips in a way that hinted at a lack of undergarments.
She looked to Terasa for help, but couldn't see her through the circle of women. She was shorter and smaller than all of them.
With gentle but insistent hands, they undressed her, pulling her shift up and off before she knew what was happening.
When they spotted the mark on her breast, they expressed a unified gasp of outraged horror.
