Emily shifted uncomfortably on the couch, water dripping from her raven hair onto the cream silk cushions, leaving dark spots that spread like ink. Her jeans clung sodden to her legs, heavy and icy, chafing with every small move.
"Is this your room?"
"My room? This is the hotel's room which I am paying for. So, be grateful."
"Can you please not tease me now?"
The chill seeped deep into her bones, mixing with the adrenaline crash to leave her shivering uncontrollably.
She glanced at Lily, who lounged on the chaise looking far more composed despite her damp blouse—orange curls frizzing wild but her posture relaxed, like midnight chases were routine. Resentment bubbled in her heart as she glared at the orange-haired woman.
'Why is she so calm?'
Emily bit her lip, hating the vulnerability. Asking for help felt like defeat, but practicality won.
"Should I change? Do you have extra clothes?" She cursed inwardly the second the words left—weak, dependent, everything the old villainess Emily would scoff at. But her outfit was ruined, plastered to her skin like a second, freezing layer. She had no choice.
Lily arched a brow, doe eyes flickering with faint amusement. "Clothes? You want clothes?" She unfolded from the chaise with fluid grace, her taller frame crossing the suite in three strides to the sleek wardrobe embedded in the wall.
Mahogany doors whispered open on silent hinges, revealing neat stacks of folded garments—silk pyjamas, casual loungewear, all in soft neutrals that screamed understated luxury. Lily rifled through without hesitation, plucking a simple white cotton shirt and loose green trousers.
She turned, bunching them in one hand, and lobbed the bundle straight at Emily's face—not hard, but direct enough to smack her cheek with soft fabric.
"You!" Emily yelped, snatching the clothes mid-air before they slid to the floor, cheeks flaming hotter than the rain chill. "Why are you like this?!"
The shirt unfolded partially, oversized even in preview, but dry and warm from the wardrobe's heat. Lily's casual toss felt like a power play—tall omega lording basics over the drenched alpha. Resentment bubbled, sharp as the mall spat-down, but Emily swallowed it. Lily had helped her, so she would keep her calm.
"Bath first, then change," Lily said flatly, already turning back to the chaise, voice brooking no argument. Her silk blouse still clung translucent in spots, outlining curves Emily tried not to notice—full and soft, a contrast to her own sharper lines. Lily flopped down, grabbing a tablet from the side table, scrolling with one hand as if kidnapping aftermaths were just Tuesday.
Emily glared daggers, emerald eyes narrowing to slits, jaw clenched tight enough to ache.
Problematic, my ass, she thought, resentment coiling like a spring. Lily acted the hero, but this casual command grated—treating her like a soggy stray cat from the viral clip.
Still, the promise of hot water lured stronger than pride. She snatched the towel Lily tossed her way a beat later—plush Egyptian cotton, heated and smelling faintly of lavender—and stormed to the bathroom without a word.
The door clicked shut behind her, a small barrier against the omega's unflappable calm.
Inside, the bathroom gleamed like a private spa—veined marble floors warm underfoot, a rain-forest shower dominating one wall with multiple jet heads promising oblivion. Emily peeled off her ruined clothes with a grimace—jeans suctioned to thighs, hoodie heavy as lead, bra and panties sodden transparencies she kicked aside.
Goosebumps prickled her porcelain skin, nipples pebbling in the sudden air, full breasts heaving with pent-up frustration.
She caught her reflection in the fogging mirror—raven waves plastered stringy, emerald eyes fierce but shadowed by exhaustion, curves still goddess-perfect despite the ordeal—waist dipping sinful, hips flaring bold.
"Even in this condition, I am really beautiful."
Scalding water erupted in a glorious cascade, slamming her shoulders like a warm embrace, steam billowing thick and jasmine-scented from the built-in soaps. She tilted her head back, letting it soak her scalp, rivulets tracing every curve—down the swell of her breasts, over the hug of her waist, along toned thighs.
Suds foamed creamy under her hands, lathering slow: over pebbled nipples that softened under touch, across hips begging reclaim, between thighs where tension lingered unspent.
Minutes blurred as her mind wandered despite resolve—Lily's save nagged too—unwanted debt to the heroine. Rinse complete, she lingered till skin pinked rosy, steam veiling the mirror like secrets.
Lily had left a fresh towel just outside the glass Emily wrapped it sarong-style, padding out barefoot, steam trailing her like a cloak. The suite lay empty, chaise vacant, tablet dark on the table.
City lights twinkled endless through floor-to-ceiling windows, rain streaks now soft patters.
"She must have another room," Emily muttered, relief mixing with prickling unease. Alone felt safer—no omega gaze dissecting her guard-down.
The clothes dwarfed her—Lily's frame a good four inches taller, trousers pooling at her ankles like fancy cuffs, shirt hanging loose to mid-thigh, sleeves swallowing her hands till she rolled them thrice.
"Why are these clothes so big?"
Simple cotton, soft as clouds, vanilla-faint from Lily's scent. Emily sighed deep, bone-weary, the day's toll crashing full—CEO fall, investor slams, mall clash, kidnap sprint, reluctant rescue.
She shuffled to the bed, the excess fabric whispering against her legs, and sank onto the edge. Plush mattress yielded like a dream, pillows fluffed heaven-soft.
"Let's sleep now. I am really feeling tired."
She crawled under cool sheets, pulling them high, raven hair fanning wild on the pillow. Eyes fluttered shut, body melting heavy.
◆◇◆◇◆◆◇◆◇◆◆◇◆◇◆◆◇◆◇◆
Lily slipped back into the room just before dawn, the heavy door clicking shut behind her with a soft, final snap. The city outside hummed faint through the rain-streaked windows, neon veins pulsing lazy in the pre-light gray.
She'd stepped out briefly—room service run, a quick scan of the lobby shadows for lingering threats, her black SUV tucked safe in the underground garage. She never intended to save Emily, but she did. Was it because of her fearful expression when she was chased by those goons. Lily wiped the blood off her hands as she took a deep breath.
Her doe-brown eyes adjusted quick to the dim, landing on the bed's alcove. There laid Emily—curled small under crisp white sheets, raven hair fanned wild across the pillow like spilled ink. She'd changed into Lily's clothes after all—the oversized white cotton shirt draped loose over her frame, one long sleeve slipping to bare a porcelain shoulder; gray trousers bunched at her ankles, too lengthy for her shorter build.
In sleep, Emily looked utterly transformed—innocent, unguarded. No glare, no 'alpha' fire snapping emerald eyes.
Just soft cheeks flushed from the shower's heat, full lips parted on slow breaths, chest rising gentle under fabric that hinted curves without flaunting. A stray raven strand clung to her cheek, damp-kissed and defiant.
An unwanted warmth stirred in Lily's chest—sharp, unfamiliar, like a hook tugging something long-buried. She crossed the room slow, barefoot on plush carpet, drawn despite herself.
The woman who'd cornered her at galas, sparked tabloid wars, now slept vulnerable in her bed, borrowed clothes swallowing her frame.
Lily's left hand moved on instinct, fingers brushing Emily's cheek feather-light. Porcelain skin warmed under touch, impossibly smooth, yielding soft as she tucked the errant strand behind a delicate ear. Emily sighed faint in sleep, shifting closer unconscious, lashes fluttering but eyes staying shut.
Did this woman mistake me for an omega? Lily thought, hand lingering a beat too long.
No—she was alpha through and through, hidden under layers of media myth. The world saw doe eyes, porcelain fragility, orange curls framing 'sweet' features—omega darling of screens, Warren Foods heiress ripe for alpha conquests.
Tabloids spun it endless—Lily the yielding prize, hounded by suitors, her 'soft' allure fuelling fan wars. No one questioned. No one dug her medicals, her scents suppressed by custom blockers, her dominance cloaked in deliberate grace.
Why correct them? Silence shielded her—let alphas chase ghosts while she built quiet power. Only a trusted few knew.
Lily's eyes darkened, pupils swallowing brown as she drank in the sight. For someone who didn't care about love—sworn off love's mess—her right hand betrayed her now, trailing slow from Emily's cheek.
Fingers ghosted down the jaw's sharp line, tracing collarbone exposed by the shirt's slip, dipping to the valley between full breasts rising steady.
Fabric whispered under touch, cotton thin barrier to warmth beneath. Emily murmured soft, arching faint into the caress, still lost in dreams. Lily's breath hitched—pulse quickening low, a forbidden heat coiling despite iron will.
"You're really problematic, Emily," Lily whispered, voice husky thread in the hush. "I don't like you... but damn if I'm not enamoured."
Something off about her nagged deeper. Emily screamed 'alpha'—emerald blaze, porcelain power, curves sculpted dominance. Yet sleep stripped it bare—small frame swallowed by Lily's clothes, looking fragile, almost omega-like.
Soft cheeks begged protection, lips pout-perfect, body yielding under sheets like it craved claim. Lily leaned closer, nose brushing raven strands, inhaling deep. Beneath shower-fresh jasmine lingered... doubt.
Faint, sweet undertone—not pure alpha command, but honeyed whisper teasing submission? Suppressants? Mistranslation? Or something different? Was Emily hiding an omega truth under mask?
Lily's hand stilled on her waist, thumb circling slowly the impossible dip—huggable curve screaming temptation.
"Are you an omega, Emily?" Lily whispered to herself.