Page 11 of Follow Your Instincts

“Okay,” I said, but my throat was still sore and my voice was a rasp. “Hurts, but nothing terrible. Can I go get my clothes from my apartment?”

“Oh, sorry dear, but no. We’ll send someone from the Center to pack up your clothes, unless there’s someone you’d rather go instead?”

“My sister, Kira. I’ll text her,” I said and grimaced at the pain in my throat.

“I’m going to insist you talk as little as possible until that throat feels better, which works out nicely since I have quite a lot to say and you’ll need to listen,” Steffi said and led me through a door into a dining room. “We’ll start with some breakfast, though.”

Three other women were sitting at the long wooden table, all Omegas. They were all much shorter than me and I felt like I was back in fourth grade, the tallest, gangliest girl in the room. Two of them smiled, but the third just winced at the bruising on my neck.

“You can meet everyone properly later, but this is Jessica, your neighbor,” Steffi said, indicating the smallest of the women, the grimacer. She rose reluctantly from the table.

“It’s Jess, as I’ve been telling you for the last three years, Steffi,” Jess said with a scowl. “What happened?” She gestured to my throat.

“Just some light assault,” I said. I didn’t feel like telling the whole story.

Jessica was tiny, maybe 5’1”. Her scent was more tangy than sweet, kiwi and something citrusy. She had long, straight, dark brown hair that fell to her waist in one shiny sheet. Jealousy burned. They always say you want what you can’t have, but I didn’t think anyone would ever trade their hair for mine.

As if she could read my thoughts, Jess’s eyes flicked up to my bun, then back to my throat. “Yeah, you look pretty rough.”

I laughed, even as a twinge of annoyance flitted through me. “Unfortunately, my hair always looks like this,” I croaked.

My hair was the kind of curly that made any haircut or style impossible, so I just trimmed it a few times a year and let it go wild for the most part. It was reddish brown and, when I had time to dry it properly, hung down in a mass of ringlets. Most of the time, I kept it contained in a huge bun or a braid.

“Shame,” Jess said with a little smirk.

When I didn’t respond, Steffi pulled me into the attached kitchen to defuse the tension. I waved awkwardly at the two other Omegas as she ushered me out. “Let’s go meet Austin,” she said. “They’re the chef around here, and they can cook just about anything you want. If we get really crowded, we get them some extra help, of course.”

The kitchen was the most modern-looking room in the building with gleaming white surfaces and stainless steel appliances. Austin had short red-hair and was kneading dough on a floured countertop. They had tattoos up and down their arms and smiled when we stepped in.

“What would you like to have for breakfast, dear?”

“Just coffee,” I said. The thought of trying to swallow anything solid sounded like torture.

Steffi nodded and filled a cup from the drip machine for me. “There’s cream in the fridge if you want it. Austin, dear, could you make Maggie a smoothie or something? She’s got a bruised throat, poor thing.”

“Of course,” Austin said and came to shake my hand, dusting flour on their apron first. “Nice to meet you, Maggie.” I couldn’t tell if their scent was truly reminiscent of freshly baked bread, or if that was just the kitchen.

“Thanks, you too,” I rasped.

“Jesus, yeah, you sound rough. I’ll get started on that smoothie,” Austin replied and started pulling fruit out of the fridge.

“So, are we suitably fortified?” Steffi asked. I nodded. “Then on with the tour!”

We started in the lobby again. “This is the hub of the Center.That hallway leads towards the residential rooms, which you know already,” she said, gesturing to the green hallway. “Pink will, of course, take you to the medical offices. We have Dr. Meninger on staff for general medical care, along with a gynecologist, Dr. Kimber, who specializes in Omega care. She’ll be wanting to meet with you later to discuss the physical aspects of your new designation.” The green and pink hallways stretched to the left and right from the main office.

Steffi opened a door to our right to what looked like an old-fashioned drawing room. “This is the formal meeting room, where Omegas can meet with potential packs. We spray it thoroughly with descenters before and after every meeting.”

“My office,” she said, pointing to a door on our left. “And that’s Andreas’ office, the assistant director. He’ll be in soon. He helps immensely with finding potential pack matches and facilitating meetings.”

“Through that door, of course, is the dining room and kitchen,” she pointed to the room we’d just left. “And this door will take you out into the grounds, from which we will continue our grand journey.”

Steffi pushed open the French doors to the garden I’d seen from my window. It was like a courtyard with the residential and medical wings boxing it in on both sides. Another detached building hemmed it in from the rear. “Our groundskeepers are very proud of the garden, so please be kind to them and don’t trample anything,” Steffi said. She pointed to the path that led through the gap between the residential wing and the detached building. “This leads to the walking path. We have a half-mile loop that goes through the woods and brings you back to the lawn.”

We walked through the garden until the view of the lawn opened up before us. There was a small lake with a picturesque footbridge to the right of the woods, and a gazebo hugged the near shoreline.

“Pretty,” I said.

“We think so, yes,” Steffi said. “It’s important for this to feellike your home until you get settled.”

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