Starving.
It was a word she knew too well in this world. The nights in her room, belly grumbling, body cold and eyes so fucking wide. The emptiness that existed from the hopes of a better life, bitterness boiling in her throat. But Quinn couldn't care less for another's hunger, another's suffering. Yet, Zen's face flashed in her mind, the sunken cheeks, the wet eyes, and a shuddering chill rushed through her bones.
Her soulmate.
Idiot. Quinn was a fucking idiot. She didn't need a soulmate, especially one that wasn't truly hers. A lump rose in her throat. It was a thought she hadn't bothered to consider, hadn't had the space to feel. But it was now roaring to the surface of her mind.
Zen was destined for love in a pack of seven, destined for a litter of pups, a bunch of grandkids. He did not need her, and Quinn had no place in his life when he had six others to choose from. Six others that hated her. Quinn's soulmate did not need her, nor did he truly want her.
He'd merely wanted a false arrangement, a fake mate as Klaus had said, a blood bag to feed on. And it all made sense, knowing what she knew from the books, knowing what she knew now. The Omegas were hungry, and all they needed from the Alphas was to eat. The mating laws were a guise, a false promise to the Alphas. After all, how could they treat Alphas as equal?
Quinn knew how much they hated Alphas, how much they must despise her face for what it represented, for what it resembled. They wanted her blood to be sweeter, for her body to stop producing the scent of distrust and agony. And for that, they needed her to drop her guard and be happy.
But they did not want her.
And Zen would never love her the way she wanted him to love her.
That had a tightness clawing in her chest. There would be no happy household, a beautiful mate by her side. She would not grow old in a warm space, with the kisses of her soulmate, with the laughter of children. She would not have a mate to love her in sickness and in health. And there would be no one in her life but herself in the wilderness, always, always alone.
How fucking pitiful.
How fucking awful.
There would only be fake love, drenched in false promises. The pleasures of the flesh only to sate the hunger of seven. Quinn was merely a toy, a feeder, a prostitute. And her body was just a tool for the seven. Quinn could not allow herself to want for more, could not let her heart drip into the space of physical affection and think of it as love.
Quinn would use them too if she had to, would drown herself in a year of experiences, of pretence, and then she'd break away. Quinn had to steel her heart, had to be stronger. And yet it hurt. It still hurt, because after everything, couldn't Quinn have love?
Did she not deserve a soulmate of her own?
Quinn's vision grew hazy, pain blossoming in her nose — a moment of anguish, ragged breath, tortured burning. And she stilled herself, inhaled hard as she tried her best to push the thoughts away. But they were like ocean waves when they began, like chains that pulled at her consciousness and beckoned her to consider a lifetime of sorrow.
But Quinn was stronger than that, stronger than needing a fucking man that would never trust her. That she could never love. Soulmates could burn you, could eat you alive and tear you into pieces. She knew that from the cheaters, the abusers, and the deceivers back home.
Her boss had fucked another woman despite having a soulmate to love.
Surely it was a blessing that Quinn knew not to dream of a better life with her soulmate. A boon that she was privy to the secrets of this world. There would be no broken hearts for Quinn, for she would never want more. She'd accepted her fate.
It was the only reason she'd allowed Zen to kiss her, had allowed him to touch her when she should be screaming at him, should push him away. Because this was all transactional, and she had closed her heart off, had torn him out of her life the moment he'd allowed Rowan to use her. The moment he'd revealed his identity as consort to the King.
They had different lives, and she knew she could not want what she could not have. There was nothing between them aside from the promise of a soulmate, and the meagre beginnings of love that he had extinguished with his lies. Quinn didn't mind that Zen was not hers. He was her murderer, after all.
Because Zen would never be the one she needed him to be.
That was the cruel, cruel fate of her life.
"Quinn? Are you okay?" She opened her eyes again, surprised by the question. There was no kindness in her life. And to hear those words from Carlos, to experience gentleness again, it had unearthed a sea of emotions, chipped at her barriers. Quinn swallowed, bitterness flavouring her tongue, and tears blurred in her vision.
She smiled because she should not feel sorry for herself when she was blessed with a friend. "Of course."