12. LOREN
Chapter twelve
LOREN
T he curious melding of scents hits me before I am through the doorway. I am not surprised—Cal had warned me well enough. There’s roses and rich soil; mint and wild sage; fine champagne and caramel; even the comforting cake-batter scent of brown sugar and vanilla. But they are all pale whispers compared to the overwhelming scent of cinnamon and maple syrup.
I lick my lips, as though I could taste the sticky syrup on my tongue.
Oh dear.
If Callum Murphy, stoic unto death, nearly went into a rut over this Omega, what hope have the rest of us mere mortals?
Focus, Bellrose .
For once I am grateful for all my years of disciplined training.
I pick out each of the Omegas from their profiles. Maddison Diane with the dark red curls and scowl; her fraternal twin, Margaret Elizabeth, a tiny girl with a heart-shaped face, a deluge of freckles, and nearly orange hair; Norah Ellinor with the brown plaits and glasses; Layla Maureen, the lithe blond beauty.
That leaves only one. Katherine Olivia.
She’s curled into a sitting chair, her left knee carefully arranged. The paperwork said there was some kind of scar tissue around her knee and up her thigh.
An accident, maybe? An injury? She has a lean athletic build, surprising since most Omegas are either wispy slips of girls, or plump and pampered queens of their Pack.
Her sweet maple syrup perfume creeps around me, settling like a warm coat. Her brown hair is short, swinging freely around her chin. I want to run my fingers through the glossy strands, to bury my nose in the crook of her neck and hold her until we fall asleep in a tangle of arms and legs.
I swallow back a thousand desires.
I am Professor Bellrose, historian and folklorist. Not Loren, an Alpha in search of an Omega. I have waited a decade for my Omega. I can make it through an hour in the same room as Katherine Wilder.
But she’s rubbing her forehead, her features scrunched in discomfort. My deepest Alpha nature wants to comfort her, to take care of all her worries, all her pain.
Words tumble out faster than thought.
“Miss Wilder, are you well?”
“I’m fine Professor, and it’s Captain Wilder.”
Captain . There had been a note about Katherine mentioning the military, but an officer and an Omega?
But she wasn’t an Omega in her homeland. Her designation didn’t present until she traveled here.
To us .
I smile at the thought. But before I allow myself to entertain such ideas, I must test my theory. A little patience is all I need.
She catches the look and I shake off the school boy giddiness. It’s been such a long time since I’ve had hope for an Omega.
“Duly noted Captain. And please, call me Loren.”
She blinks and nods.
Good . I need to focus on gathering details for our database on Travelers, not on flirting with the glorious Omega to my right. Besides, there are four other women who likely need attention.
We Alphas biologically need to care and provide for others, and Omegas biologically need the attention, support, and care of Alphas. Even better to add the calm and steady companionship of Betas. Every designation plays a crucial role in a healthy Pack and in a healthy society.
I force myself to turn toward the other Omegas. Norah and Molly Beth look curious, Layla watchful but aloof. Maddie scowls.
Mild attraction to these women? Yes. No electric tug, though.
“Now, if I may, I’d like to discuss the legends of the Travelers, so that we might see where you ladies fit.”
I sit next to a stiff-backed Aurelia whose polite smile is as manicured as her nails. She gives nothing of her thoughts away.
“We have hundreds of volumes of stories about Travelers – people who claim to come from somewhere else. Some from worlds of incredible light, and others from worlds of darkness. Most, though, come from worlds like ours –homelands that are so similar as to nearly be identical. Except, for a few key aberrations.”
“Like the Alpha and Omega biological system. We don’t have– what do you call them? Designations?” Norah says.
I smile at her. She would be an excellent student.
“Indeed. You say that your homeland doesn’t have designations, correct?”
Norah nods.“Everyone is what you’d call a Beta, though there are dominant and submissive streaks. I think those are more societal conditioning and not biology. And we don’t scent like you do here –that’s more of a canine thing, not a human one.”
Layla quirks her head to her sister. “Look at you, Dr. Norah. When did you start learning psychology?”
Norah shrugs, “I took AP classes last year.”
I am uncertain what “AP” means, but it’s clear that Norah is a natural student. I should check to see what programs are currently available for Omegas through the university.
Focus!
“Right,” I say and force myself back on track. “Once you traveled here, your designation presented immediately. Undisputed Omega. The nurses have on record that your perfumes came in within six hours of your arrival. So, whatever is different between your homeland and Amaata– our world– triggered your biology to change.”
The Omegas mumble, and Maddie distinctly growls “horseshit.”
“You know this sounds crazy,” Katie says from her chair.
“A world without packs sounds crazy to me,” I counter. “I can’t imagine asking only one partner to provide for all my emotional, physical, and sexual needs.”
Her eyes flash like sunlight glinting off polished oak. Her thick perfume sours slightly. My gut tightens; I don’t want to anger the Omega. Only push. But finding the edges of her boundaries may prove difficult. Her customs are foreign, for all that she looks and smells so familiar.
I force my attention back to the semicircle of sisters in front of me and continue. “I have a list of the most common homelands recorded by Travelers. I wanted to see if any of them match up for you. Does the name ‘Algodone’ sound familiar?”
Five heads shake. Not from that homeland. I made a note in my ledger.
“Ha’Qui Al’Ason?”
Again, head shakes.
“Bargooney Ta Thanoth?”
“Are you really just going to read us a list and hope that we recognize something?” Layla stands crossed her arms. She’s the most classically beautiful of the sisters, her blue eyes glittering like a crown jewel. Despite her perfume of champagne and caramel–two of my personal favorites–I find no intrinsic pull toward her.
I make a mental note, ticking a box in favor of my hypothesis.
My chest tightens. The last time I was this attracted to a woman, it was a Beta who tried to destroy my Pack from the inside out. It was chemical, not biological, and it was all built on lies. But with Katherine– Katie –there’s no artifice. No agenda–how could there be? She’s a Traveler.
No, I can’t dwell on it now. I relax my shoulders and my jaw, quirking my head to look at Layla. I feel the pressure of Katherine’s gaze on my cheek, the way she’s watching my movements. The heat in her rising as my attention lingers too long on her sister.
Omegas can be jealous. It’s in their nature.
Tick box three.
“Where are you from?” I ask. “The paperwork says ‘Georgia’ but that’s not in our database.”
“How about the United States of America?” Layla answers.
“America?” I repeat.
I scan down the ledger. No entries of ‘America.’ I shake my head.
“What about other places in our world? Like Scotland or Ireland. Weren’t people always going missing from there?” Norah sits on the edge of her seat. “We have stories about people going missing–but not people showing up. Right, isn't that where lots of the fairy stories come from?”
“And romance novels,” Molly Beth adds, her cheeks pink.
“Fairy stories?” Strange. We too have fairy stories–stories of the Fae, those primordial first parents who were so strong in their shift that they could melt between their human and animal forms at will.
I run a finger down my ledger, slowing as I see the entries. There’s a scattering of entries across the centuries–some more than a thousand years past. But both place names are all listed: Scotland and Ireland.
“You said there are stories of people going missing?” I say carefully.
All the Omegas lean forward.
“How many of them ever go back?”
Because if my ledger is correct, then more than five dozen Travelers came here, and never returned home.