Page 12 of The Sad Omega

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The following Tuesday, I shopped alone. It was a week since Isca had told me his heat was starting and as heats never lasted more than three days (sometimes less if you had an alpha to take care of you), he should have been back to normal.

“Isca wasn’t at the shops today,” I told Talius when I got home that afternoon. “I’m worried about him.”

“I thought you said he’d seemed better since the two of you became friends,” he commented.

“Well, he was, but he’s still always sad. His alpha is awfully controlling.”

“Yeah, I remember you telling me that.” Talius snorted. “I can’t imagine getting away with it if I tried that with you.”

“Okay, that’s me, though. Isca's different. We don’t know anything about Isca’s past. And last week…” I stopped, unsure how much of Isca’s personal details I ought to share.

“Last week?”

I looked at my mate. I wanted him to understand how deeply worried I was about the little omega. I had a feeling Isca was going to need our help one day.

“Last week he told me he was going into heat, and Talius, I’ve never seen anyone so terrified. He literally broke down in the supermarket. He wouldn’t tell me what happens but I know it must be awful for him.”

“Heats can be difficult,” Talius responded cautiously.

I stamped my foot impatiently. He wasn’t getting it.

“No, no!” I nearly shouted, unusually aggressive. “You’ve never had one. I’m telling you they can be uncomfortable but not enough to make someone actually frightened. He was out of his mind with fear. Fear, Talius! That's not normal. There’s something very wrong going on in that pack. I just don’t know what it is, he wouldn’t tell me.”

Immediately, I felt embarrassed about my outburst. My mate didn’t deserve this. But I was genuinely worried about Isca’s safety. The way he was always so sad, always scared to step out of line, and his absolute terror over his impending heat.

Talius ignored my poor attitude.

“Have you tried texting him? You have his number, don’t you?”

“Yes. I already did,” I sighed. “He hasn’t replied.”

“Well until we know more, I don’t think there’s much we can do. I can’t risk starting a territory war by heading over to his place and demanding to see him, especially as we don’t know if there’s actually a problem.” Talius was being reasonable. It was valid. If he went over there with a bunch of betas to back him up, it would likely start something. From what I’d seen of the rest of Isca’s pack, they would probably rather fight than use words anyway. It wasn't as if we were on visiting terms with his pack.

“Tell you what. Wait another week. He might have gone away or something. When he comes back, invite him and his alpha to dinner. It’ll give me the chance to sus him out.”

“Okay,” I agreed. It was a plan. But it didn’t stop me worrying about Isca right now. I’d become fond of the other omega and I didn’t want anything to happen to him.

As it turned out, Talius was partly right, and the following Tuesday when I went into town, Isca was waiting for me at the supermarket.

“Hey,” he said in his soft voice, eyes a little downcast.

“Hey.” I looked him over. He seemed…. It was hard to say. I catalogued the differences since the last time I saw him. A little thinner, his face drawn and with dark shadows under his eyes. He was a little paler too, though that was hardly possible, he was always so white. Now he was so pale his skin was almost blue. No! Fuck that. It was blue – the hard, nasty blue of deep bruises, peeking out from around his t-shirt cuff.

“Fuck, Isca,” I breathed. “What happened to you?”

He bit his lip and turned away, examining an apple off the display as a tear rolled down his cheek.

“Was it during your heat?” I whispered, drawing nearer and keeping my voice low so no-one could hear us.

He nodded, and a flush spread over his cheeks. Was he ashamed?

“It’s not your fault,” I reassured him. We were in the middle of the supermarket in a small country town, and it wasn’t the right place for this, but I wrapped him in my arms anyway and hugged him. “I’m so sorry you have to endure this.”

I held him. Stupid music singing of stupid love played in the background in this stupid supermarket, while his body shook and the damp patch on my shirt grew bigger. I wondered if he’d learnt to cry silently back in that hell-hole he called home.

Another song was playing before he drew away. He sniffed, and avoided my eyes.

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