Spare the Bond (When It Raines Omegaverse)

1. Bethany

Chapter one

Bethany

The shattered screen of my cheap phone reflects the unending defeat that has been the last seven years. It’s another life line gone. All the contacts to the life I ran from are now trapped behind spiderweb breaks in a black void. Life is so disappointing. With all the possible futures I could have imagined for myself, this was not even on the list. A shitty hotel room that I have to check out of urgently, counting the last of my dwindling money, with no family or friends, only half a loaf of bread with some unappetizing suspect fruit, and a bottle of metallic tasting water is not the dream. It wasn’t even remotely in the cards.

Finding out I was being let go of the temporary job I had at the local factory making plastic bags this afternoon was just icing.

My stomach cramps, and I’m hit with a blaze of heat like I’ve stepped in front of a furnace. I swipe at my forehead as I crumple to the floor, trying to ride it out. My heat, the first one I’ve ever had, is pushing up close, and I’m running out of time. It’s threatening to ruin everything I’ve been running from.

Bang.

I jolt and stare at the door with wide eyes. I don’t know who is on the other side. An alpha? Someone who wants to rob me? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I need you out of here!”

I’m relieved that it’s the owner of this shitty motel, but then I remember I need to leave, and now I really will be homeless. I was paying this tight bastard three times what most hotels cost because it was close to work. Still, I lay there unable to speak, praying he doesn’t open the door. I’d be helpless, and a helpless omega can end up being a very broken omega if she’s not careful.

As the minutes tick by, my anxiety grows until I hear his feet stomp away. My relief is felt through my whole body.

I stand up and pace the ugly green carpet, limping and clutching my stomach. The comforter on the bed is almost the same colour. It’s a cross between grass and vomit green, intense and offensive to the senses, but beggars can’t be choosers, and I am clearly a very desperate chooser.

I scrub my hand through my still damp hair, biting my lip hard to stop the panic from rising like a tide inside me and sweeping me out to uncharted waters. What do I do? Where do I go from here?

I need to find safety first. I need the protection of a pack.

I hate it. Just thinking about giving myself over to anyone makes me want to vomit. I was saving myself. For love. Seven years since I ran from home, searching, seeking a love that I know is out there. But I’ve run out of time. My choices are gone.

The sun is going down, but I can’t afford to stay another night. I’m still clutching my phone. I’ve forgotten my dad’s phone number, and I can’t remember my stepbrothers’ numbers. Raider or Kelly would have come and saved me in a moment. Possibly seen me through this heat, but I’d rather take my chances on the street.

I don’t have the money to get back home, anyway. They would come rescue me if they knew I was here, in this kind of trouble. Raider with his jet black hair and his impulsiveness. He smiled too much. Kelly, who left before I did, a golden god. Everyone expected me to end up with Raider. I heard my father talking to him about it.

It’s why I left.

“Why are you thinking about this, Bethany? It’s the past. It’s long gone and over.”

I loved them, but not like that. How could I? We were family. I didn’t want to go through a heat and be bound to a boy I saw as a brother. I wanted something more than Raider and Kelly. To be honest, I wanted the love I see when my father looks at Aunt Auggie.

I grab the few things I own and pull the pretty dress I bought for this reason out of my backpack. I shove everything else back in and zip it up tight.

I was the child no one expected. My father helped a pack and donated his sperm several years before. Apparently, when I was two years old, my father found me on his front porch with a letter pinned to my jumper. Inside it said simply my name, date of birth, and a legal document signing me over to my biological father. No amount of investigation could find my mother. She simply vanished.

Because of Charles and Uncle Sol being so famous, I am my father’s daughter, but I call the rest of the pack that raised me Aunt or Uncle, and to everyone, I’m Raider and Kelly’s pseudo cousin.

It always made me feel a bit like an outsider. Maybe that’s why I can’t give up on this fairy tale dream of finding my true love.

Through the window, I spot the street lights flickering on, and that’s my queue. I pick up my ratty backpack and my long jacket. It’s been through everything with me. The last three years and all the travelling I’ve done, all the places that I’ve been, I’ve had this lucky jacket.

It’s my good luck charm.

“Come on, Bethany Raines, you can do this.”

My father used to say that to me whenever I gave up. I miss him so much. I miss all of them. Uncle Charles and Aunt Auggie, my dad’s pack mates. And Uncle Sol, who always had a guitar in his hands and would make up songs just to see me smile.

Ah, the past is weighing heavily on me tonight. Perhaps because of the imminent change that is going to happen.

I step out into the night, duck my head down, and walk with purpose. Confidence is the trick that has kept me out of trouble. Act like you have somewhere to go and strangers with murky motives will hesitate to harass you.

And if that fails, have a spray gun of something foul. I like to keep really strong perfume that I stole from a cheap shop inside it. It confuses the scents and messes with their heads long enough for me to run.

The night is bitterly cold, and my breath steams around me. The orange street lights shine down, casting long shadows as I make my way into the city. Mariettville is a pleasant city. It’s a sprawling metropolis that is undergoing a huge growth spurt. I came here because I heard whispers of work, but that fizzled out fast. There are too many people competing for the same jobs. It was a mistake to come here.

I can see the lights of the inner city strip. It’s a long road with nightclubs, pubs, sex shops, and take away places. A veritable den of sin. It’s open most of the night and closes during the day. And it’s where I’m going to find a saviour or my damnation.

My stomach cramps, and the urgency I was feeling doubles down. Signs my heat is coming soon, like, really soon. I have between hours and days before I lose my ability to choose and end up the willing omega of whoever appears.

I need alphas. The thought is desperate and layered. I need the right alphas. I need my alphas.

I don’t have time to be picky, but if there is a deity up there; then I hope they are listening because I have sent in millions of prayers. I need help; I need kind alphas who will treat me nicely and won’t want to ruin me. And that’s all I can ask for now. I don’t have time to choose a love match or anything special. If I want to make the choice, then I need to do it now.

It’s only for a few days, and then I can leave.

It’s not forever. I hope.

No bonds. No bites. Those are the rules I’ve given to myself since I’m holding out for something much, much better. I want my scent matches. The people who are perfect for me. I know they exist. I’ve seen it in my parents. So I won’t accept anything less. But I am bitterly disappointed that I will have to give some stranger the gift I was holding for them.

I just wanted them to be my one and only.

Looks like that pipe dream is gone.

I walk into the bright neon lights. The smell of booze is strong and acrid in the air, along with the tantalizing smells of burgers and fries. People laugh and brush against me, uncaring that I am almost sent sprawling. They are everywhere, lingering and loitering in groups. Laughing and smiling, weaving up and down the street, screaming, crying. I’m overwhelmed by the assault on my senses, but I keep my head down and avert my eyes from the huge alphas who study me with too much intensity.

I glance up at all the signs hanging off buildings. One has a neon light dancing pony. Another has a cowboy who lifts his strobing yellow hat. I glance down the street, my chest tight, and spot a place with a tasteful wooden sign.

“Dynasty?” I whisper the word, and it feels right.

As soon as I see it, I know it’s going to be my hunting ground. I get in line and strip out of my jacket, folding it over my arm and trying to look confident.

The dress I’m wearing is tight enough that it leaves almost nothing to the imagination. I look amazing in it, and the pale pink colour makes me look innocent and slightly helpless. I spent a good chunk of my money on this dress two weeks ago. It’s strapless and has a floating three inch fringe at the bottom that finishes high up my thighs. I look the best I ever have. My upcoming heat has made my skin glow and my eyes sparkle. Everything about me has become bait for an alpha.

The guy at the door lets me in, after running his gaze up and down my body in appreciation. I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes hard. He’s not my type, being clearly at least five years younger.

I pass through the doorway and am immediately assaulted by the sounds of Dynasty. People do what people do. The sound of a deep thrumming base that makes my spine tingle can be heard from any part of the bar. The scent of something woodsy and sweet hits me, and I realise it smells clean in here.

I wander in and go straight to the long wooden bar so I can orientate myself. My stomach flutters with nerves. I want to run, go back to a park where I’m safe. But I won’t be safe there for long.

The bartender is down the other end and busy, so I take the time to fold up my coat and put it in my backpack, then I put the big bulky item down by my feet where it’s not so noticeable.

I finger comb my hair and take a look to the side. There are a few guys, but it’s mostly women. I scowl. Why? They dance in groups on the dancefloor, but mostly, they just chat and shuffle on the spot, while men weave in between them, pausing to stare hungrily before moving on.

An alpha comes up and lands against the bar beside me, bringing a cloud of boozy air. He turns to me and smiles widely. He stinks, and he’s got something strange going on with his hairline.

“Ey arlin’.”

I translate the slurred words and give him a disgusted nod. He’s so drunk he’s not even able to form words, and he thinks this will win him an omega? I make a disgusted sound in my throat.

Nope, I am not even. I discreetly turn my body away from him and watch the bartender come towards us. He’s attractive, with tanned skin. His white shirt is rolled up at the arms, showing off veiny forearms, and that material stretches tight across his chest and shoulders.

His hair is a thick, deep brown that I want to run my fingers through. He smiles at a customer who calls to him and holds up one finger. The woman flirts outrageously, but he just winks and keeps moving my way. His eyes finally land on me, and I stiffen, shocked awareness flooding my body. He’s got pale grey eyes with a dark ring around them. The way he looks at me makes me feel like he’s stripped me back. He can see everything I’m hiding. I feel vulnerable and silly dressed up, sitting here at this bar.

“Hey, sweetheart, what can I get you?” Impersonal and polite. I flinch.

I open my mouth, but words fail me. That’s never happened before. Try as I might, I cannot get a single word to leave my mouth, and the longer I struggle, the hotter my face gets.

I exhale as the drunk man beside me cracks up. Mr Bartender Hottie cuts a stern glare at the drunk. But once I’m freed from his gaze, I’m able to gather my thoughts.

“Passion fruit martini.”

He glances back, clear amusement on his face. Two gloriously ill-fated dimples appear, and I let myself fall into this mindless fantasy that he is the alpha of my very dreams. The alpha who will fall in love with me and save me from everything. He’s going to lean across the bar and tell me I’m the one he’s spent his whole life waiting for.

The drink lands in front of me, and he takes the last of my cash. And then he walks away, and though the view is as good as the front, I’m almost distraught about him leaving.

I turn around, sipping my drink, and scan the crowd. I have to make this drink last. Just enough to look like I belong here. I glance down at my bag and discreetly shove it back against the bar. I can’t afford to look homeless.

I spot an alpha watching me. He’s not big, but he’s got an intensity that is almost scary. With a smirk in his direction, I turn back to the bar, casually popping up a foot. My boots are cute as hell, my ass looks great. All systems are go.

So, why do I want to put my coat back on, ring up Aunt Auggie, and cry?

The atmosphere of this bar is very elegant, but also very masculine. The room is dark but polished to shine. There are mirrors behind the bar and bottles of booze lined up. There’s a dance area, plenty of tables, and a stage.

I’m not sure if this place is a club or a bar, but it seems to be a strange combination of the two. The lights are low, and they are flashing pink, white, and blue spotlights on the dancers.

It’s nice. I glance up at the mirrored wall of alcohol, wondering how much it costs.

It would be impossible to miss the inferno of heat that leans over me. I suck in a breath and hold perfectly still. He’s not touching me, but he’s so close it wouldn’t take much.

“Have you heard of personal space?” I say, turning my head only enough to see him out of the corner of my eye. He’s a blurry shape looming over me, but I don’t feel threatened. Maybe I should. Strange.

“I’ve heard of it. Never much cared for it, though.” His voice is a soft drawl that goes straight into the spank bank.

I have never been turned on by just a voice before.

A huge hand slides down my shoulder along my upper arm, stopping before he hits my elbow. It’s a completely innocent touch.

It sets my body on fire.

It’s hard to breathe this shallow. As soon as I take a deep breath, my back presses against his chest. He rumbles. An actual rumble that I feel through the places where we touch.

I close my eyes and will my self-control to return.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

I look down, trying to find some equilibrium, some willpower, and he vanishes from my mind in an instant. I scramble away from him, crouching awkwardly, searching for my bag. But it’s gone as if it was never there.

I whip my head around, searching through the crowd, looking for anyone with my backpack. All my clothes are in it. My money. The last of my food.

The guy has vanished, but I’m almost in tears. What can I do? Ignoring everyone, I rush back and forth along the bar, looking between people’s feet and searching to see if I can see it.

When I can’t, I realise it’s been stolen and panic. The room spins, and I’m frozen still in the middle of everything, while it all turns into a blur.

Only one thing stands out clearly. That guy I was looking at before, the one with the dangerous aura. He’s a big guy in a tight black t-shirt, and I rush towards him like he has all my answers. When he turns slightly, I see the words written across the back of his shirt saying ‘Security’.

“Help me, please.” The words tumble out of my mouth.

He turns back to me and raises his eyebrows. He’s got one golden eye and one pale blue one. I just have enough light to make that startling discovery. It makes him look even more dangerous. His hair is styled in silver and violet streaks, and when he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What do you need?” he asks, and now that I have his full attention, I’m wishing he was anyone else. I’d even take the drunk guy because he’s almost as good looking as the guy at the bar.

“My bag,” I manage to force out. I blink rapidly, trying to shove this vision out of my mind and focus on what’s important–all my worldly belongings.

“I’m going to need a little bit more to work with than that, love.”

I clench my teeth and point to the bar. “My bag was stolen. Please, help me.”

“All right, when did you last see it?”

“I was standing at the bar drinking my drink, and it was by my feet.”

“Did you go to the toilet or-”

“No, I’d just got here. There was a guy, he leaned over me, and that’s when I noticed it was gone.”

He nods and starts walking towards the bar. I follow on his heels and bounce off his back when he stops abruptly.

“Hey, Hunter, seen anyone take her bag?”

He just shouts it out across the bar. The bartender looks up, his eyes latching onto me, and shakes his head. He looks away immediately and smiles at a gorgeous blond. I’m jealous, I have to admit. What did I do to upset him? No, I don’t care. My bag.

He turns and makes his way towards us and looks me up and down. It makes me feel exposed and not in a bad way. In a way that makes me want to preen and climb up naked onto the bar and wiggle for his attention.

My cheeks heat. Where the hell did that thought come from?

“Who was hanging around her?”

Hunter glances at the security guy and shrugs. “Just Crow.”

Crow? What kind of name is Crow?

“Come on,” the guy says into my ear. “This way.”

He leads me down the side of the bar and to a door that I hadn’t even noticed.

“What’s this?”

“We’re going to check security footage,” he grumbles.

I follow him in, but when he turns left, I’m abruptly frozen, staring at the god who has just walked out of the room on the right.

His eyes narrow, and he approaches me like a hunting cat. I suppress my nerves and steel my spine. He’s got black hair to his chin, and his eyes are just as dark. He bites his lower lip as he looks me up and down, really slowly.

“Oh, you look so much better from the front.”

I jolt at the recognition in hearing his voice.

He lifts a hand and runs his fingers through my hair.

“You’re the guy with no idea of personal space,” I accuse.

His lips lift as he ducks down so we’re on eye level. He kisses me hard and fast. I don’t expect it. That’s why I don’t push him off me.

I mean, it’s a good excuse.

I just have no excuse for why I kissed the stranger back.