Page 2 of Mating the Omega
The real reason was that it was too dangerous. Sure, shifters were segregated from human society, bound by law to be registered and to live within their prescribed communities unless they had special permission to live outside them—which we did not—but they still did business with the humans, and it would be just my luck to run into one while I was at work, or even end up working with one. I could only hide the difference in my scent so well, and it was inevitable that someone would pick up on it. And then we’d have to run again. Not just from the shifters, but from the humans too, for breaking their laws.
Dad had promised me that, once the Alphas had given up on me, we’d look for a place in the country, somewhere where my instinctive need to nurture and grow things could be put to use. I had some potted herbs growing on the windowsill, and they did well for living in such poor light, but I wanted more. Needed more. The Omega Drive, my mom had called it.
Not all the omegas had it. Actually, none that were alive right now had it. The True Omega had died out. Except for me.
Go me. Way to be different and fucked up. At least this fall’s season had been short; I was blissfully able to enjoy our little holiday without the constant hard-ons and the restless urge to go out, somewhere, anywhere, and pick up a guy to fuck me silly.
Yeah, omega sucks, no matter how hard your parents try to tell you there’s a good side to it too. I’ve never noticed it.
The rattle of the doorknob broke the silence of the tiny apartment and then Dad was home. “Look, they had pie, half off.” He held up a box, with the conspicuous pink sticker on it.
“Great. What kind?”
“Apple. Aaaaand,” he lifted a plastic grocery bag into view, swinging heavily with the weight of its contents. “Ice cream!”
“Fantastic!” I waved at the wall and took a bow that was only slightly sarcastic. “And I decorated.”
“It looks great. You have a knack.” He put the pie on the kitchen counter and started putting away the rest of the groceries. “Tomorrow we’ll sleep in, eat pie for breakfast, and watch Christmas shows on the computer.”
“You might be. I’ll be up early to put the turkey on.”
“We don’t have to eat it at lunch.”
“Then we have to cook two meals. Nope, turkey lunch, then turkey supper, then turkey breakfast after that.”
He stuffed the empty grocery bag in a drawer. “If I grow feathers, I’ll singe your tail for you.”
I pretended I was offended. “Hey, this turkey is going to be so good, you’llwantto eat it for days.”
“Okay, okay.” He laughed and went to hang up his coat. “So, what’s for Christmas Eve supper?”
“Tuna casserole.” It wasn’t really. Just a can of tuna dumped into a box of macaroni and cheese, with some no-name frozen veggies mixed in so we could pretend we were eating healthy. I’d cooked it in our one pot, too, because we didn’t have anything that we could put in the oven. Though after tomorrow, I’d have a pie plate, and I could start thinking about things I could make in that. It was expensive replacing everything we owned at least once a year. Sometimes we had enough warning to get out with most of our stuff, but not always—this last move being a prime example of what it was like.
Supper was quiet. What was there to say? There was no work for electricians at Christmas, though he had some stUff lined up for after. I was debating bringing up the subject of my getting a part-time job again, even knowing he would veto it. Maybe I could talk him into a little dumpster diving after supper. We might find more decorations, or some food that we could scavenge. Stale bread wasn’t bad if you used it right, and it would save the loaf on the counter from being used up for stuffing the turkey.
CHAPTER THREE
The streets were dead when we out together after supper—after all, it was Christmas Eve. All the better, because then there’d be no one to notice me hanging upside down in a dumpster behind the grocery store three blocks away from us. It must have been a sight, me bent double over the edge, Dad hanging onto my legs so I didn’t fall in. It stank, but I let some of my wolf sneak out so I could follow my nose to the stuff that wouldn’t give us food poisoning. So far, I’d found a few roasts, and a bag with a pretty random assortment of breads and donuts and muffins in it that didn’t smell too old. There wasn’t a lot in the bin, though. I guess they sold pretty much everything, what with it being the holidays and stuff. But still, I could get six or seven meals out of the meat, and there was enough bread to stuff the turkey, and sweets to snack on while we lounged around. It was almost like a real Christmas.
“I think that’s it. Everything else smells disgusting. I wouldn’t chance it.”
“No fruit or anything?” Dad tightened his grip on my legs and lifted, helping me out of the bin.
I shook my head once I was back on my feet. “Nothing that didn’t turn to mush as soon as I touched it. Do you want to hit another place?”
“Maybe. There’s that green store, the one we found the bag of clothes at.”
It was a couple of blocks out of the way, but yeah, that had been a lucky find. They were a high end store—it was likely they’d throw out anything that wouldn’t still be perfect when the store opened again in two days. “Okay.”
Luck was with us, and we headed home with a bag of oranges, some cookies in a smashed box, a bag of organic potatoes, and two containers of strawberries that we’d have to pick the bad ones out of, but that I couldn’t resist. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad Christmas after all.
We left the car in a parking lot a block away from our apartment and walked through the darkness with our loot. Maybe it was the season, maybe it was that we were tired of being poor and on the run, maybe our luck had just run out—I don’t know. But we rounded the corner, and there they were, my worst nightmare. My old Alpha’s enforcers, sent to track me down and bring me home, so he could fuck me and breed me, and steal my power to make himself invincible. Not for the first time, I wished I knew what the fuck was so special about me, and how I could use it to make everyone just leave me alone.
“Run,” Dad whispered. He took the bag of oranges and hefted it. I couldn’t move, frozen with shock and the sudden urge to just roll over and get it over with. I was tired. He was tired. I was halfway to convincing myself that it couldn’t be as bad to belong to Orvin as I’d made it out to be when the men spotted us, and the horrifying reality of what I’d be letting myself in for came crashing down. I turned and bolted back the way we came. “Dad! Come on!” I yelled, but there was no sound of footsteps behind me. Instead, I heard a scuffle, then the meaty thunk of fist hitting flesh, growling and cries of pain. I skidded to a stop and spun around.
They had Dad on the ground, two of them pummeling him. The third advanced on me down the sidewalk, a satisfied grin on his face. “There you are, pretty little omega. It’s time to come home.” His grin got wider. “You’ve grown up from the scrawny spoiled brat you were when I first saw you.”
I started backing away, my gaze flicking back and forth between him and the motionless form of my father. A particularly brutal kick wrenched a moan out of him, and I forced back a sob. He looked up at me, head cradled in his arms for protection and mouthed, “Go!”
