Omega (Alpha & Omega #1)

{Chapter One}

All my life, I hid who I was. What I was. Because my kind was the lowest of the low - an omega in a world overpopulated by alphas and betas who never saw my kind as an equal. Only below them.

Ever since puberty, my mother purchased me perfume to mask my pheromones. She hid me away in her and my father's house so no one knew the alpha named Stephan, and his beta mate named Marie, had given birth to an omega.

As an omega, I was born into this world with my life mapped out for me already. Alphas could do anything they wanted, work for whoever they wanted. Betas usually followed behind, as assistants to alphas or secretaries. But omegas...

Omegas are nothing better than servants.

My mother pretended to care about me, even though I knew deep down she would have preferred a beta child at the very least. My father, on the other hand, never even looked my way after finding out. If he did, it was out of anger or spite. He hated the thing he and my mother produced. How could an alpha and a beta like them give birth to an omega like me?

Even the servants in the house gave me dirty looks like we somehow weren't the same. Like I was below them or somehow worse than an omega. So most of the time I remained in my room, sitting at my desk, my eyes on my locked door or on my computer.

They wouldn't let me leave the house unless I was accompanied by another omega. Even then, I was only allowed to leave with that damned perfume on so people would think I was just another alpha with her omega servant.

I knew how to act like an alpha. I'd been doing it long enough. Even before puberty, my father trained me to be the best alpha I could be - because what else would I be, coming from him and my mother? So I knew how to walk the walk and talk the talk, but the moment I hit puberty, those lessons stopped and he distanced himself so quickly it was like a punch to the gut.

Mother said he just needed time.

It had been seven years since then. I guessed he still "needed time".

A knock at my door had my ears pricking up and a frown pulling at my lips.

I swung the door open and readied myself to spit out words that would offend whoever it was on the other side, but the words died in my throat and my head bowed.

Daddy dearest was paying me a visit, after all.

"Get dressed," he said, voice gruff as ever. "You're coming with your mother and I to a function."

"What would you like me to wear," I asked, my eyes still on his shoes. They were black and polished to a shine. I knew that if I got near them, I would be able to see my reflection. Oh, what I would give to run something over them to smudge that perfect shimmer. To spit on them and sully them with my omega saliva.

He waved his hand dismissively. "A dress. And do your makeup. You have to look somewhat presentable for this, as our guest."

Guest. Not daughter. Never their daughter.

"And the perfume?" For some reason, I already knew the answer.

I was twenty years old. Just the perfect age to send me off to be some alpha's plaything or slave. My father didn't want me in the house anymore, and I knew my mother felt the same deep down.

"Don't wear it." He turned and began to walk away. "We're leaving in a half hour."

Half an hour later, I had my light brown hair cascading down my back in an elegant wave, my silver eyes rimmed with dark eyeliner and mascara, and a red tint to my lips. I wore the only dress I could think of to wear to a "function" - a black strapless piece that reached to mid thigh. I had a matching clutch purse grasped in my hands.