Page 4 of Going Down Smooth: Part One

“Look, my only goal is to get through the will reading. Once that’s over we go back to our corner of the world and we forget we saw her,” Lox says with conviction. Yet I know he doesn’t mean it. He is just as bad as I am. “Like you told Trey. She rejected us. We don’t owe her anything.”

I nod my head in agreement as people start to pour out of the church doors. I pat Lox on the shoulder and we both go in search of Trey and Nate. Of the four of us, those two will be the first to cave, and if we are going to be the prospective new owners of The Smooth Bourbon Company, we need to be united. United in our efforts to stay away from Mercy Smooth.For now, at least.

TWO

MERCY

“You can always come back, Mercy. I know you want to say goodbye to your father but you’re going into the belly of the beast being there. What if you see them? You know what? You know you will. Mercy, your heat? What if they trigger you?” Freeya asks in a rush. The panic in her voice makes me clench my phone tightly so I don’t let my own anxiety over this situation affect me. I am here now; I will see it through. I have to.

“Free, listen. The timing isn’t great, but nothing with my father ever was, even his death, I’m afraid. The lawyers told me over the phone that he wanted his will read after his funeral. Whatever happens, it will be over by this evening. I’ll see my mother and fathers, my sisters, and then I am on the next plane home,” I reassure her and myself.

I have a plan. In and out. Even with my heavy heart the urge to see my sisters and mother rides me hard. I love them and want to see them, but I know I can’t stay any longer than I need to. I will listen to the reading of my father’s will, as per his request, and then I will get the hell out of Dodge.

“Mercy, you’ve been off your suppressants for about two weeks now. It won’t be long, girl. You’re cutting it close. You won’t be able to travel soon. I say turn around now. I say this as your best friend. Nothing good can come of you returning to that place after all this time.” Freeya’s concern warms my heart. She’s a protective Beta and we’ve been friends for almost as long as I’ve been away from Frankfort.

The first few months after I left Frankfort were extremely difficult. I was grateful that I came from a well-to-do family. My sisters and I all had trust funds we could access once we turned eighteen, so I didn’t struggle for money as I navigated my way to an Omega safe city. From there I went to college, got my degree in Business just like I’d planned with. . .well, just like we’d planned.

Times are changing, our world is changing, and most forward-thinking people in our society don’t want to treat Omegas as breeding machines and possessions. There are those who fought to change the way our communities treat females and the rare males with our designation. So, there are towns and cities where Omegas can live without being mated. Where you can go to school, work and live a normal life amongst Alphas, Betas, and mated packs that believe Omegas deserve a choice.

It took me a long time to come to terms with who I am now. I am an Omega, although my thoughts, personality, and behavior are far from what you would consider an Omega to be. I spent five years refusing my heats, remaining on heat suppressants until finally my doctor told me that I had no choice. It is no longer safe for me to suppress my heat and I need to allow my body to go through the cycle or else I could cause myself permanent damage. I don’t hate myself; I just don’t feel right being a slave to urges I can’t control. The need to mate, to open myself up in that way to the vulnerability, I have zero to no trust, but there are agencies with carefully vetted Alphas to help an Omega like me through their heat. They’re called Rent-a-Knot, or something like that. But it’s a means to an end, plus I have Freeya to back me up just in case something went wrong. I will take all the support I can get. So, that is my plan.

Freeya sighs, she knows there’s no convincing me to turn around and come home, no matter what. “You don’t want someone trying to claim what isn’t theirs to claim,” she says after a break in our conversation.

“I would cut their balls off first,” I reply with a frown. The thought of someone trying to touch me without my permission makes me growl.

“If you’re in heat though, you won’t care, Mercy. Seriously, I’m worried. I know you can take care of yourself. I don’t want you to be alone and in a vulnerable state, that’s all. So, stop stalling outside the church doors and get in there. The sooner you do, the sooner you can get back here where you will be safe,” Freeya says encouragingly.

I look toward the doors as I stand in the foyer of my father’s church. The updated version of it anyway. It seems he finally got his renovation after all these years. My mother’s mates were all distinctively different. My dad, Benjamin, was the owner of The Smooth Bourbon Company, a family business that stretches back a hundred years. My father, Christopher, is a pastor of this local Baptist church. He too inherited his position from his dad. Then there’s my father, Edward, who is a professor of History at the local university.

How they managed to form a pack is a mystery, they were all as different as night and day, in both personalities and beliefs on social structure and the hierarchy of our society. But despite their differences, they all loved my mother and treated her with a reverence an Omega deserved.

“Mercy,” Freeya calls down the line, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts.

“I’m going, Free, and before you say anything I promise to call as soon as I can,” I say, keeping my voice steady and calm. No need to freak her out more than she already is. No need to confess that I am slightly uneasy about all of this. Maybe, I should have let her come with me, but I wanted to do this alone. I need to do this alone. I can do this alone.

“OK. Well, I guess I should say good luck. But honestly, Mercy, I am sorry about your dad,” she says sincerely.

For a moment I let myself feel the loss of my dad pressing in on my heart. I love each one of my fathers, but he always encouraged my independence, he nurtured my strengths, until I presented as an Omega, then he left me in the hands of my father, Christopher. He didn’t fight for me, and I held that resentment inside of me for years. I guess at the end of the day, none of it matters. He passed away, and we never got to reconcile. Life is ultimately too short, and I will carry that regret with me. I should have reached out sooner. Maybe his unfortunate heart attack was my fault. He needed me and I ran. I knew he wanted me to take over the business, he had been teaching me the ins and outs of bourbon making for years.

I sigh, knowing I can’t stand out here forever. It is time to face it head on. “I’ll keep you updated, Free. Love ya, girl.”

“Love you too, Mercy,” she replies before the phone cuts off, leaving me standing in the quiet foyer with nothing left to do but push the doors open and walk through.

“You got this,” I mumble to myself as I roll my shoulders back and step inside.

Of course, the door alerts the entire church to my arrival; the high-pitched creaking noise makes me grit my teeth in annoyance. I keep my eyes on a seat at the back of the church, ignoring the gasps of shock, the surprise by my appearance apparent on all the wide-eyed stares. I am sure my mother is too grief-stricken to notice my arrival. As I take my seat, I try to appear unaffected by all the stares. I can see my family sitting in the front of the church. I quickly meet the concerned gaze of my eldest sister, Faith, who was physically made to turn around by one of her mates.

What the fuck?

“Mercy Smooth.” I glance up as the man standing behind the pulpit says my name in awe, as if he’d summoned me somehow and I’d materialized magically out of nowhere. It seems I came in mid-speech. I settle in my seat, pressing my back into the hardwood to ground myself as people slowly turned away from me after a few subtle coughs from the man speaking. With everyone’s attention elsewhere, I focus on my sister and whatever the hell just happened. Why can’t she look at me? Are they controlling her head movements? I’ve never liked her pack, and as soon as this service is over, I am going to make that shit known. Controlling assholes.

Yep. It’s been less than five minutes and my hackles are raised, my heart rate has spiked, and I am ready to go to war over whatever is happening there. I take a deep breath, and I pause. Damn, someone smells good. Too good. I normally don’t respond to scents like this, but the smell of warm caramel makes my mouth water. I squirm in my seat at the effect the scent has on my body.

What the fuck is happening?

I can feel eyes on me, so I am not surprised when I look across into the hazel eyes of Knight Biggs. I keep my face impassive as I take in both him and the backs of the others sitting next to him. My pack, all four of them.

Not your pack, Mercy. You gave them up, remember.

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