24. Zoe
Zoe
Dominic is ten minutes late for our study group, which is shitty of him since he's supposed to be the one leading it. By the time he stumbles into the library, black shirt wrinkled and untucked, his cheeks ruddy, we're already packing our stuff up.
"Sit down," he barks. "It's time for another lesson."
He walks behind my chair, and the sour scent of barley wine nearly bowls me over.
"Are you drunk?" My words are a low hiss, meant to keep my classmates from hearing.
"Yep." He continues to the head of the table, as if the fact that he's drunk isn't problematic. He sits backward in his chair, using the top rail to prop himself up. "We're going to deviate from the syllabus today."
"Why?" Naoise pulls out his notebook and flips through it. "We've got a test in two weeks. We can't afford—"
Dominic cuts him off by slamming his hands on the table. "I teach what I teach. You can go if you don't want to learn." Naoise doesn't move to leave, and after a moment, the Alpha nods. "That's what I thought. Today, we're going to be talking about scent matches, bonds, and rejection."
I squirm in my seat. Dominic said we were scent matches when he found me in my shifted form.
I've done some research since then, and rejecting one means rejecting the God who bestowed the gift of a match upon you.
I can't imagine they'd take that well, and pissing off a God isn't high on my list of things to do.
Most scent-matched pairs are Blessed by the same God, but there have been a few cases of cross-God matches.
I wonder how they decide that. Do they work together and flip a coin on who bestows that particular Blessing?
"Meeting your scent match is supposed to be the greatest day of your life, but what people don't tell you is that it's a prison sentence.
Without your consent, you're locked to another person, because if you reject your scent match and refuse a bond, you could go feral or get sick.
Our choices are ripped from us. Our job prospects narrow because we're seen as more stable, and now we're saddled with a spoiled, manipulative Omega that we don't want to take care of. "
Bile rises in my throat at his words. This lesson—brought on by booze and contempt—is for me. He wants me to know how much he hates that we're matched, and that he would change it if he could.
The rejection makes my eyes sting, and I push back from the table, ready to flee before tears betray me.
His lip curls in a disgusted glare. "Sit down, bunny. You need to hear this, too."
Warren scoots his chair closer to me and leans over to whisper, "Bunny?"
"I don't know." My words are mumbled, and thankfully, Dominic doesn't hear.
My classmates are locked onto the Alpha's words. I don't know if they can tell that he's drunk, but if they can, it doesn't seem to bother them.
"Don't let anyone lie to you. A scent match is a burden.
Can't even get it up for anyone else once you meet them.
Fucking bullshit. And even if you can't stand your scent match, you still feel pulled to them.
It's not a Blessing. It's a curse." He stands up and pushes the chair, which clatters to the floor. "Class fucking dismissed."
We watch as he stumbles out, but none of the others are affected by his words like I am.
Was he serious when he said he can't be with anyone else now that he's met me? Did he try?
Fury, from both my dragon and me, boils inside me.
It's not fair of me, considering I hooked up with the crocodile in the woods, but don't most Omegas form packs with multiple scent-sympathetic Alphas? Does this mean that the crocodile and I could be a match? Maybe Omegas don't have any restrictions because we need multiple partners during heat.
"What is his fucking problem?" Alec's question draws my attention away from the spot where Dominic disappeared. "We got screwed with him as our Aide."
"Yeah, isn't the point of this for us to learn how to calm a raging Alpha? This would have been a great chance to learn hands-on, but I think he just wanted to bitch." Merrick shoves his notebook back in his bag. "I hope he gets it together by Thursday. If he doesn't, I'm asking for a new Aide."
Once the rest of the study group has cleared out, leaving Warren and me behind, he spins and crowds me against the table.
"Bunny?"
I'm too raw to deal with him right now. "I don't know, Warren. He was clearly messed up."
His eyes are shifty, darting around the library and looking anywhere but at me, as he runs his fingers through his pale blond hair. "Is there something going on between you two?"
"What? No!"
"I'm just saying, it seems like you two are 'running into' each other a lot, and now he's got a pet name for you?" His voice is tight with jealousy that he has not earned the right to. "I'm just saying, if there is, you need to tell me."
"That's enough, Warren!" I slam my hands on the table, volume too loud for a library, but I don't care.
"You don't own me. I don't owe you anything, not my heart, my body, or my thoughts.
You're hooking up with people left and right, kicking Cliff out of his room to do it, and yet you're trying to police me and my bed?
" I grab my things, not bothering to put them in my bag, even though my grip on them is awkward.
"You're being an asshole, and I'm not going to put up with it.
Talk to me again when you're ready to be the friend I need. "
I rush out of the library, my blood boiling. Who the fuck does he think he is? Until we came to the Institute, he never acted like this.
Viv and Cliff both said that it is hard to stay away from Omegas, but I don't believe that's what is happening to Warren. If it was because of my Omega status, then both of them would be acting like him, too.
No, this is unique to Warren.
My dragon pushes against the confines of my mind, fighting to be let out, but I swallow the urge to shift. I'd bring the whole building down if I shifted right now, and my cover would officially be blown.
People can't know that I'm Blessed by Ilota, but my first worry would be the administration finding out that I'm an Omega and forcing me into the rigid, solitary life that they lead.
I'll run before I allow that to happen.
I throw the door open to my room and toss my things onto the bed before shedding my necklace and ripping off my clothes. I need to go for a run. Maybe that will settle this need to shift, to let my dragon take control.
I'm so overheated that I leave in just a sports bra and shorts, and it may be my imagination, but I get to the forest much faster than I have in the past.
My feet tread the worn path until I get more tree coverage, then I veer off and make my way through the brush. I don't know what I'm looking for, but I know that I don't want to risk running into anyone.
Ten minutes later, I stumble into a small glade. It's so out of place in the thick brush that it almost looks manmade. I throw myself down on the grass and let it cocoon my body, the blades tickling my skin and distracting me from the burning underneath it.
Will I forever feel like I'm going to burst into flames at any given moment? Being a dragon should come with an instruction manual.
Like a petulant child, I want to scream that this isn't fair. It's not fair that I don't have someone to mentor me through this, that there are no records about what I am, and few about my Goddess.
And she wants me to fix the realm? I don't even know what's broken.
There are so many unanswered questions, and she only shows up in my mind when she wants to. It's starting to feel blasphemous, the anger I hold for her, the way I resent her.
"How could you ask this of me? To take on this burden with no guidance?
To complete a task without instructions?
I didn't ask for this. I don't want this.
I never wanted this life, and you thrust it upon me without my consent.
You made me alone. You took the community I was supposed to have and ripped it out from under me, forcing me into solitude, and for what? "
Tears stream down my face, and I don't stifle them. I hope, wherever she is, she can see me and know how much harm she's caused me.
My mind wanders to the folktale I read in Fate of the Fire.
With the woman gone to senseless violence, Ilota believed that there was none worthy of her Blessing and swore that until the Daughter of Garnet walked the path again, she would withhold it.
The Daughter of Garnet, the child born to Ilota's most pious worshipper, took her mother after her violent death to rest and was never seen again. Ilota's fury at the loss ripped the path of garnets from the ground.
The garnets must be a metaphor for her Blessing, but then what is the path that I have walked to be bestowed it? If the garnets were given as thanks for steadfast belief, and taken away because of violence, what am I born of?
Am I to walk the path of righteousness?
Or is violence my calling?