Page 37 of Wild Omega

“You little bitch!” he shrieks. “Fine, you want to break up? Since I came all the way here, and you were so rude to me, I think I’m still owed a little something for my troubles, yeah?”

Tears blur my vision as Hudson strips my pants away. His thin beta scent lingers all over my skin now, and even through the fear it feels like a piece of Callisto’s here with me. I don’t want to be alone.

I stop fighting and curl into a ball. “Will you leave me alone then?”

He chuckles and his touch gentles. “For now, since you’re so adamant about taking a break.”

Just for a moment, I don’t have to be alone. Some part of me knows it’s the alcohol, but with my eyes closed, I can imagine it’s Callisto here with me instead. It’s always been him. I wrap my arms around his neck.

“Ah, here’s my pretty playboyal-mega.”

I stiffen.

Big hands turn me over. “Don’t worry. If you find me that terrible, I don’t need you conscious to fuck your tight ass.”

Too late I realize my mistake, as Hudson shoves my head into the pillow and pins me down. Nausea rises in my stomach as my body quivers, demanding air. I’ll be on the news headlines a week from now when the landlord comes looking for my rent and finds me dead and decaying. They’ll say I died choking on vomit after getting too drunk. Tears soak the pillow and my muscles cramp as I arch desperately against Hudson.

But I’m too small, too weak. White prickles flash behind my eyes, and then everything fades.

The shrill whirr of a siren filters into my ears. Maybe I’ll have an out-of-body experience while they take my corpse. It’s a pity, since I did like that body, except for when people were calling me an omega. Not the body’s fault, though.

I open my eyes slowly, wondering what death looks like. Will I just float free?

Morning light filters in through my blinds, crossing my floorboards with parallel golden lines. The sirens move on down the street and fade from hearing. They weren’t coming for me?

I push up against the mattress and a heavy weight drags on every muscle. I groan and flop back down. Yeah, no way I’m free of my mortal coil when I feel this shitty. Pain stabs through my head and the acidic scent of vomit burns my nostrils.

So I’m still alive.

A bitter laugh cracks through my throat, and I instantly regret it as white-hot agony lances through my skull. Yeah, I’m gonna be regretting those drinks for another two days. The need to pee shunts me slowly out of bed, and I wince as my weight settles on my ass. Hudson really fucked me good while I was unconscious, the son of a bitch. Feels like he’s torn me right open.

After taking care of urgent needs, I clean myself up and liberally apply lanolin cream. An iced coffee and several painkillers wake me up enough to recall everything that sent me spiraling yesterday.

Guess it’s good news I don’t have to go into work today, since I can barely walk.

I slip into a coat to warm up and take my coffee onto the landing for a bit of fresh air. An envelope propped against the threshold falls as I swing the door open. Surely Hudson wouldn’t have left me a message in this old-fashioned way. I stoop down, grumbling as I spill my coffee, my hands still unsteady. I rip open the flap and pull out a piece of plain lined notepaper.

Hello, neighbor.

Can you please keep the noise down after dark? You’re disturbing the building.

The chuckle that lodges in my throat sounds more like despair than merriment. I cough to clear my burning throat. A thin card inside the envelope catches my attention, and I draw it out. It’s a business card for a counseling service specializing in relationships.

I scoff. Even my neighbors know I’m a failure at love. The paper crumples pleasantly in my palm as I wad the letter up and shove it in my pocket before swiveling and staring at the keypad to my house, trying to think of a new number. Maybe I should ask Callisto if I can stay at his place for a while, in case Hudson decides we’re not done after all.

A shudder runs down my arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps. No, we’re done. He said it was a farewell fuck. If I go to Callisto’s house, he’d want to know why, and this isn’t a situation I can explain to him. I can’t even file for assault, because it’d be my word against Hudson’s. Could I even deny wanting sex, when I crave the tiny part of him that smells like my best friend?

I sigh and hug my arms around myself.

Time to start job hunting, and I might not limit myself to Laversham. Let’s throw it out there to the universe to decide whether I should stay or go. I’ll brush up my resumé.

But first, another nap. Maybe two.

Chapter fifteen

Red

The belt purse around my waist tinkles merrily with my collection of shiny things, gathered like a magpie on the hunt. I pat my hand against the lumps as I shift at the dining table, reassuring myself everything is in place. The stolen ID and wallet from the handbag at the House of Bitches, a bottle of water, lip gloss, migraine pills hoarded over a couple of days, a multi tool lifted from a serviceman’s kit, and money pried out of a vending machine. Okay, vending machines, plural.

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