Page 50 of One for the Money
“They were my pack in college, even though we didn’t file for formal formation. We reconnected recently, and I realized how much I missed having a pack. How good it would be for you.” He hits the turn signal, not looking away from the road. “You should be happy. A lone Alpha probably wouldn’t be enough for you during your heat once you go off suppressants entirely. This is what your Omega has been waiting for. We can bond now.”
“But why did you spring this on me? I thought…” I bite my lip, trying to hide the tears that threaten to spill over. “I thought you were going to propose.”
He reaches a hand blindly towards me, grabbing my knee. “I thought this was better. You get a pack, like a proper Omega, and we can bond. Your parents will be thrilled.”
I wrinkle my nose, his wording leaving a bad taste in my mouth. “A proper Omega? What’s that supposed to mean?” And why now, after four years, is he suddenly so obsessed with bonding?
Rich pulls into our driveway, where another car, the expensive and impractical one I watched the valet pull away with at the restaurant, is waiting for us.
Tripp and Greg. Rich told me they were moving in tonight.
It’s a lot, all at once, and I can’t wrap my brain around it.
I don’t have anywhere else to go. My parents are in Washington, and we’re in Florida. I love Rich, so I am going to have to give this a try, despite my initial misgivings. I owe him that much.
“I just mean that once you have a pack, you won’t need to work anymore. We’ll provide for you, and you can focus on being a parent and homemaker. It’s what every Omega wants.”
Maybe a lot of Omegas, but not me. He knows this about me. I love being a doctor. Having a career has always been important to me. I don’t want to be a house Omega. I don’t begrudge any Omega who wants that life, but it’s not for me.
I’m not even sure if I want to have kids. I want to explore. See the world. Travel around and make mistakes. I’ve been so responsible my whole life. I want some time just to live a little.
He climbs out of the car, and I stay seated, willing myself to move. But I can’t bring myself to enter that house that now has two strange Alphas inside it.
Alphas that smell awful. Like earthworms and durian.
I’ll need to up my suppressant dose so I don’t have to smell them. They won’t be able to catch my scent either, which is an added bonus, so they can’t claim my pheromones sent them into a rut. Rich will beupset that he can no longer smell me, and it’ll further delay my heat, but I think he’d understand. Especially if I say it’s for work.
The door to the car wrenches open, Tripp filling the spot it left. He’s got the look of a Wall Street guy, with the smarmy grin to match.
He’s the type of guy I’d cover my drink around if he were talking to me at a bar.
“Let’s go, Omega, we have some ground rules to discuss.”
“Ground rules?” I echo, still not moving.
His large hands grasp my arms and lift me out of the car, not so gently. A hand stays planted between my shoulder blades as he leads me up the walkway.
“Ground rules. Things are going to be different now.”
I barely makeit to the toilet before I’m hurling up the bile and the small amount of sports drink that fills my stomach. I don’t know how long I slept, but it’s now dark outside, and it doesn’t feel like the trailer is moving.
Did I sleep through the whole drive and show?
A knock shakes my trailer, and I groan, clutching the toilet harder.
“Doc!”
Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away.
I don’t know which “him” this is, but the sentiment still stands.
But the knocking continues, so I drag myself into my nest and throw on the first moderately clean clothes I can find. It’s the best I can do not to have a vomit-stained shirt on. If they want me to be presentable, they’ll have to wait three to five business days at this rate.
“Doc, come on, please open up!” The voice is insistent as hell, and I know this is my job, but right now I hate it.
I hate everything.
I have never been this sick in my life, and I want to be left to rot in peace.
