Steam still clung faintly to her skin as Rhea stepped out of the small adjoining washroom, water dripping from the ends of her dark hair. The oversized red T-shirt she had pulled from the Beta's wardrobe hung heavy against her frame, the howling wolf graphic stretched across her chest like a badge of rebellion. The baggy jeans sagged low on her hips, cinched in place with a tie she had knotted hastily around the waist. Both pieces of clothing smelled faintly of cedar and musk, undeniably his, and yet she wore them without shame.
She couldn't bring herself to crawl back into the thin, frayed rags the Omega had worn. Not again. Her pride recoiled at the thought. So she had rummaged through the Beta's closet, pulling whatever she could find.
