Chapter 2
I may have to admit that my attention to detail is slipping in my advanced age of thirty-nine.
Being as this is my circus, and we don’t have an HR department that does the hiring, I can’t blame anyone but myself for this colossal fuck up.
An Omega doctor.
And a female Omega at that. We are so screwed.
For every ten Betas, there is one Alpha. For every five Alphas, there is one Omega. And out of every five Omegas, one is female. That means less than half a percent of the population are female Omegas.
And here one is, moving into my fucking circus.
Most Alphas are pretty flexible in their sexuality, because designation is what drives us more than anything, but there are still many who have preferences for women.
Those packs typically end up taking a female Beta, and hoping the Rot doesn’t set in without exposure to an Omega if they don’t accept a male one to settle down with.
To have a female Omega, unbonded, show up on our doorstep is an unmitigated nightmare. Just by existing, she’s as much of a circus act as the rest of us.
I’m still going to get my lawyer to review the contract and see if I can let her go, but for now, I don’t have much of a choice but to help her get settled.
“Let’s go,” I grumble, gesturing for her to follow me out of my trailer. “I’ll show you to your place.”
She makes a little huffing noise of agreement as she climbs down the steps. Dr. Shields grabs two silver suitcases that were resting just outside my trailer and drags them behind her as she follows me around the clearing.
We set up in large, empty fields in every city we visit.
Sometimes, it’s a green space behind a mall or something, but today it’s the fairgrounds in the middle of a reasonably populated part of suburbia.
It’s one of the nicer places we’ve set up, especially since we can run to the strip mall across the street for good coffee in the mornings.
I should be giving her a tour of the setup, explaining who lives in each trailer, talking through the acts, and familiarizing her with how things work here, but I’m still too frustrated at myself for letting this happen.
The guys are going to be fucking insufferable when they realize my mistake.
It’s either going to be a feeding frenzy or they’re going to insist that I get rid of her. I can’t see the possibility of a middle ground. I’m not looking forward to having to fight with these assholes to keep it in their fucking pants.
“Bossman!”
Speaking of insufferable.
Dario Reynolds comes bouncing into view. He’s wearing his tiny silver hot shorts, six hours before his performance, and all of his beautiful tattooed skin is on display. He flashes Dr. Shields a pretty grin, showing off perfectly straight and white teeth .
Of all the people for her to meet first, he’s not who I would’ve picked. The Alpha is a flirt, and without his more reserved twin, Dexter, to bring him down a little, this could get lewd fast.
“Who’s this beautiful creature you’ve got with you?” he croons, throwing himself into a dramatic bow and taking Dr. Shields’s hand in his. He places a kiss on the back of it before looking up at her. “You are a vision. A masterpiece to be displayed in a museum. A sunflower in a field of wheat.”
I hold back a laugh at her sour expression. “Dario,” I say, rolling my lips inwards. “That is Dr. Alex Shields. Our new crew physician.”
Dario yanks back to his full height, which isn’t much shorter than mine. His expression is suddenly tight. “She’s going to be traveling with us?”
“I am,” Alex responds. She’s got a pretty, melodic voice. Everything about her is pretty, really. She’s got that softness to her that most Omegas have, with dark hair and even darker eyes that are sharp as tacks. But she holds herself regally, and no one could call her weak.
When I grabbed her arm earlier, I watched the light in them fade, leaving empty, dull disks in their place. I’m not sure what has happened to her in the past, what led her to my doorstep, but she bounced back quickly enough.
Whether she wants to admit it or not, her oversized reaction to a little touch only cements that she’s not cut out for circus life.
“Jude,” Dario hisses, running his hands through his blond hair, “an Omega? What about Dexter?”
Oh, fuck.
I forgot about that.
Dexter Renyolds hates Omegas.
The Omega smiles tightly and grips her suitcases again. “Mr. Oliver, you don’t need to escort me to my trailer. Just tell me what it looks like and I’ll find my way. I want to get settled and see what I’m working with so I can collect additional supplies before we leave town.”
I really should escort her. That’s what I’m supposed to do. But Dario’s appearance reminded me that I need to let the crew and talent know about this now, before they all get blindsided running into her.
“I’ll take you there, Dr. Shields,” I say tightly. “Dario, call a family meeting, please. Ten minutes,” I whisper to the acrobat out of the corner of my mouth.
Thankfully, we didn’t bump into anyone else on the short journey to Dr. Shields’s trailer. I dropped her off with no pomp and circumstance and then took off towards the big top, hoping Dario got the word out to everyone.
Underneath the tent, the small but mighty crew has gathered and waits for me.
It takes a lot of people to run a circus.
We’ve got stagehands, sound and light crew, and spotters and floaters that help out where they’re needed.
We call our most versatile staff the roadies.
They bounce between concessions, the ticket booth, and the gift shop, as well as helping stagehands set up and break down everything.
But what everyone comes to see is the Alpha talent.
Dario and Dexter Reynolds are identical twins.
They wow the audience with their dangerous acrobatics, performed without harnesses or nets.
And sometimes blind folded. They swing and twist in the air, effortlessly catching one another in death-defying tricks that have our audience on the edges of their seats.
The two blonds are tall and trim, with piercing blue eyes.
Dario has sleeves of colorful tattoos and his earlobes stretched, while Dexter has only two tattoos - twin black bands circling each of his biceps.
Next to them, Quinton Black reclines in the second row.
He’s half asleep, clearly high, and dressed in only a pair of loose joggers.
He tilts his chin at me in welcome, then goes back to zoning out, staring at the top of the tent.
His partner, Matteo Veracruz, a handsome, but short, Hispanic Beta man, sits next to him, sketching in a notebook.
The two of them put on an incredible act involving sword swallowing, knife throwing, and whip play, ending with body suspension, if they’re feeling up to it.
The crowd loses their minds over it every time.
Our motocross team, four Alphas who do the sphere of death every night, are all clustered together in stage left, keeping a distance from what they call the “floor” performers. It’s not a superiority complex or anything. They’re a tight-knit pack that doesn’t let anyone in.
Our smaller acts, like our juggler and contortionist, are dotted around the facility, and I breathe a sigh of relief. They’re all here.
Let’s get this over with.
“Team,” I say, getting their attention. I prefer the title of showrunner over that of ringmaster, but it’s all the same. I own this production and run the show. “As you know, Dr. Tran decided not to renew his contract with us, so we have had to hire a new doctor. Dr. Alex Shields started today.”
“Same trailer?” Matteo asks. As the sole Beta in our main performance crew, Matteo is always trying to justify his place here, like he’s worried I’m going to kick him out or relegate him to stagehand.
I wouldn’t dream of it. Where he goes, Quinton goes, and the two of them put on a show that I could never replicate.
I need to remind him that he’s just as important as Q. He’s valuable, and he doesn’t need to kiss my ass to show that.
“Yes, same trailer. The rules will be the same. Make an appointment if possible, but you can also text to request immediate attention. And of course, all emergencies are to be reported to me, and I will get medical care to you.” I’m telling them things they already know to avoid saying what needs to be said.
Dario calls me on it. “Tell them the real reason for this meeting, Jude.”
I groan, closing my eyes and looking up. “Dr. Alex Shields is a woman. And an Omega.”
It’s quiet.
The entire company is completely fucking still.
“An Omega?” Dexter says quietly. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“He’s not,” Dario answers. “I met her.”
“She hot?” Quinton asks lazily. Matteo hits him with his notebook. “What? We’re all thinking it.”
One of the bikers, Erinque, raises his hand. “Why would you hire an Omega, much less a female one?”
My face is hot at being called out, and I look at the ground.
“She didn’t tell me. And I didn’t ask. Everything was done through email.
I didn’t even think to call her before extending the offer.
We had to fill the role quickly, and she was willing to take way less than we paid Dr. Tran and start immediately. ”
“Is she even a doctor?” Matteo asks, crossing his arms over his slim chest. Quinton visits the doctor more than anyone else, so I’m not surprised he’s the one who brings up credentials. “What kind of doctor can roll into a circus immediately? Or wants to?”
Everyone is starting to talk and mumble amongst themselves, and I can hear the narrative getting away from me already. I cup my hands around my mouth and yell.
“Shut up! I understand this isn’t ideal, but she has a contract.
We need to at least give this a shot. To answer Matteo’s question, she was at the top of her class in med school.
Before she came to work for us, she worked in the emergency department of a trauma-certified hospital.
She is exactly the type of doctor we want, considering the injuries you dumbasses acquire.
I don’t know why she was so eager to leave, and I don’t care.
We will try to make this work for as long as we need to. ”
“That’s a moving speech, Mr. Oliver,” comes a smooth voice behind me. I can practically hear the air get sucked out of the tent. “But do you mind if I add a little to it?”