Page 30 of Wild Omega

The only thing worse than a heat is a heat in the dark.

Darkness descends, tearing at my mind. I slither on my belly across the floor, half-tangled in the blanket, until I can claw my way up the doorframe to flip the light on. My body spasms with the effort and I groan dully. Heat pulses through me like a supernova is about to burst loose.

Samantha’s voice comes from the other side of the locked door. “Red, let me in. Omegas can go into heat shock if they’re alone, not to mention fever and dehydration.”

“Fuck off!” I roar, but my voice is already shredded so it comes out barely more than a whisper.

I can do this; I have to do this. I refuse to have one more cock between my legs that I haven’t put there myself. Ever. Shivers rack me and I fall onto my hands and knees, pain shooting up my joints.

Samantha knocks again. “Red, I’m sorry, but we need to get you out. It’s been over twelve hours.”

Metal strikes metal and I feel each vibration as if it’s burrowing into my brain like a cockroach in trash.

“Stay away!” I scream, scooting over on my ass until my back hits the vanity.

A clinking sound comes, and then the door creaks open. I throw the soap holder. “I don’t want help. I don’t want an alpha!” The little dish falls to the floor and shatters, and I follow it up with a full shampoo bottle and a toothbrush holder. “Get out!”

I sob as a burly beta man ducks in through the gap, dodging my projectiles, with Samantha right behind him. He tries to pick me up, but I lash out. “It’s my heat, dammit! I’d rather die than be fucked through it!”

The pack voices in my head roar as if they can hear me. If it’s not them, I don’t want anyone touching me. Where the fuck are they? Could they be right outside?

I lunge forward, flailing. “My alphas are coming. They’re coming!”

The tang of coppery blood hits my senses, but I don’t know if it’s from me or the beta I attacked. He’s too big, too strong, and my muscles give way, weak as jelly. I can’t say he smells like licorice, but the scent floods through me anyway, thick and nauseating.

“Forgive me, Red.”

Through blurry eyes I watch as Samantha pulls out a needle.

“You fucking bastard!” I scream. Some part of me disconnects and floats free when that tiny, lethal spit of metal punctures into my arm. “I will kill you and all your family, you damn traitor!” I cry, my legs giving way. “Liar!” Tears choke me.

I flail, but my muscles won’t obey. Then I sink as the darkness devours me completely until nothing remains.

The minute hand sweeps around the wall clock, marking the silent passage of time. Time is a slippery sucker; in a blink, four days of my life vanished, and I woke up disoriented and starving.

One part of me acknowledges that yeah, maybe they had to intervene because I’d locked myself in a room and wasn’t thinking about drinking the water I took with me. But the other, fiercer part of me can’t forgive Samantha for sticking a needle in me for any reason.

And it doesn’t help the episode triggered a fresh round of mental evaluation, or whatever this session I’m currently sitting in amounts to.

I finish the questionnaire on the tablet and drop it on the glass coffee table with a sharpthunk. The dark-skinned woman on the couch opposite me fiddles with her glasses as she waits for me to unload regarding the heat. She’ll be waiting until hell ices over.

Psychologist Marilyn Woods sighs. “I know this trauma runs so deep for you, Red, but talking about it will help. Your heats aren’t going away, and we hope to never have an incident like that again.”

I rest my chin on my hand, elbow slipping a little on the brown leather armrest. “Like what? I had my heat with my alphas.” That’s a much better scenario than any of the others that come to mind. And I kinda had some hazy dreams while knocked out, thanks to these blue nurse warriors.

Her pencil-thin brows lift. “You threatened to stab your nurse through the eye, and then to kill her entire family.”

“That’s awfully mean.” I shake my head. “I didn’t say that.”

She laces her hands together, the gold polish on her fingernails glimmering in the natural light pouring through the window. “It’s natural to say things we don’t mean when we’re distressed. This is a safe space, Red. You’re not in trouble for lashing out, but you need to acknowledge what being in heat really does to you. Darkness lies at the heart of why you lashed out.”

Pretty words, but I feel the same way I did when I escaped the nest during my last heat. It’s a prickling sensation of looking over your shoulder because an attack could come from anywhere.

“That’s not me,” I murmur. The woman who screams and threatens to kill others isn’t me. She’s a product of the House of Bitches.

“Why do you say that?” She picks up a pen and jots in the notebook balanced on her knee.

I stare out the window. I haven’t shared my story before because no one cared enough to ask the questions, but that still doesn’t mean it’s safe to answer.

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