Chapter Six
Rowan
I played everything off the other night, with Lev telling us about the girl in the bakery, but I was intrigued. Lev didn’t get excited about many omegas. My packmate, while always warm and caring, was protective of his heart and us as well.
His excitement spilled over as he spoke about the encounter with the bakery beauty even though it lasted less than a few minutes.
This wolf had to find out for himself.
Scrubs on and backpack slung over my shoulder, I left the house before Lev and Miles woke up. Lev didn’t start his work until nine, and Miles had a day off which meant working and catching up on things from home. They would sleep in, and they deserved it. All of us worked hard.
I usually packed all my meals, but today was the exception. My curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to get a look at this omega.
My wolf wanted to see if he could scent her.
If an alpha found his scent-match omega, the rest was just details. Sure, it started with biology, but Fate had a hand in all of it.
I went into the bakery early enough to grab a coffee and some pastries and sit down to enjoy them. A rare occurrence. Lev had spoiled us the other day. The cherry-cheese danish blew my mind, and that was what I bit into while waiting.
On my phone, I went over appointments and got the outlook on my day.
Our facility wasn’t a regular omega clinic, rather reserved for those in compromising situations who needed a place to go.
We kept our database separate from the national and international omega system since most of our omegas came from dangerous situations.
The last thing we wanted was for the abusive pack or alpha to find them.
I was reviewing some of the newest medical finds when the door between the customer area and the back flung open. A beautiful woman emerged with a tray of goodies in her hand. She placed the pastries into the case and then smiled and helped an older woman who couldn’t reach something.
I dropped my breakfast on the plate.
This had to be her. My coffee was empty, and I rarely drank more than one, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
I ordered a second one and made sure the timing was right.
It was more than right. Kismet. She flitted around and almost bumped into me.
I stopped her with a touch on her arm, but she jerked away like my hand was made of fire.
“Sorry,” she said, squinting. Damn, she smelled good. Like citrus and sand and a day at the beach with the sun beating down on my skin. It called to my wolf immediately, though as soon as I got a hint of it, it was gone, like a murmur in the dark.
I was walking to the coffee station for a refill when I saw a prescription bottle. The label that wasn’t stuck right and instead of the usual green or orange plastic, it was black and opaque.
Fitting, since I was sure at one glance that these were black-market drugs.
I picked up the bottle and took it to the table.
Without doing an internet search, I knew what the pink pills inside were.
We didn’t prescribe these anymore for the way they aggressively controlled an omega’s hormones, not to mention the side effects.
Some omegas were unable to have children from taking these damned things.
And it explained why her scent was only a breath of what it should be.
Probably on kinds of strong scent blockers as well.
A few minutes later, she came back out, searching for something. Ah-ha.
“This what you’re looking for?” I asked. The place was at a lull and even the woman at the counter had snuck to the back.
She tried to take them from me, but I moved quickly. “Please. Those are mine.”
“I’ll give them to you. But you know how dangerous black-market suppressants are for you, right? My name is Rowan. I’m a nurse practitioner at an omega clinic. These pills are bad news.”
She sneered, trying to look mean, but it didn’t work. “It’s none of your damned business. Alphas, I swear.”
That told me a lot.
“Here.” I took out one of my business cards and slid it into her hand along with her poisonous pills. “This is the number for my clinic. We can get you the medicine you need for free, and not black-market garbage that might hurt you.”
Her face paled. Damn, it was a beautiful face too. Her pink hair was piled up on top of her head in a bun. She wore a bit of lip gloss, and that was it for makeup. She didn’t need any. “I can’t,” she whispered. “This is my only choice.”
“There is another way. We don’t register any of our patients into the Omega Registry. Everything is kept confidential. You can even use a pseudonym if you want to. But this crap is going to hurt you.”
“Look, I can take care of myself but thanks.”
She didn’t give my card back. Instead, she slipped it into her pocket along with the medicine, if you could call that stuff medicine at all. She left me there with a nod.
Acknowledgement? Maybe.
One thing was clear; she didn’t trust alphas. Most omegas who came into my clinic didn’t. It was the reason I didn’t do so well with it at first. But one by one, the omegas started to come in from all walks of life, needing care for one reason or another and not wanting anyone to know.
We worked off donations from those who had more and who cared about omegas. Sometimes, omegas would offer to pay, but we received so much support that we denied them every time. It was a good feeling to help others.
I wrapped up my breakfast and brought the other two pastries with me. I was almost late for work. The entire day, I worried about the gorgeous pink-haired omega, hoping she wouldn’t pop another one of those pills.
My wolf howled for her. He hadn’t howled for anyone in ages.