Chapter 39
CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
MYLO
I curl up on the roof, resting my head on my knees.
It took everything—everything—to not beg Christine to sink her teeth into my neck right then and there.
This is why I started suppressants; this is why I’ve made every choice in my life so deliberately—I don’t want hormones making choices for me.
Seems like my options are either that, or my hormones making me miserable.
Tears well in my eyes, and I take a deep breath. I just need to make it to the plane. Once I land in LA, it’s only a couple more hours to Joshua Tree. I’ll stay there as long as I need to. No alpha hormones, no Christine. Everything will go back to normal, and my suppressants will work again.
My suppressants have to work again.
What that doctor said…
She probably gets kickbacks for referring omegas to heat centers or something. I’ve been on suppressants for a decade, and it’s the first I’ve heard of suppressant rejection syndrome. It’s probably some made-up quack thing.
If I really, absolutely have to… I’ll go to a heat center. Better that than giving up my autonomy for the rest of my life.
That’s the worst thing about being an omega. Being so fucking vulnerable. Just because of the flip of a coin, just because I was born this way. Just because society is built for alphas. I can hate it, but there’s not much I can do about it. I thought I had the perfect plan. And it wasn’t enough.
Tears spill over my cheeks, but I keep my breath steady. I’ve made it this far, and I’m not going to give up on the home stretch. I just need a minute to reset—to sober up. Drinking tonight was a mistake.
There’s a scuff of a shoe on brick, then the quiet thud of a landing.
“Go away, Christine,” I groan. “I told you I wanted to be alone…”
“Hm, ‘Christine’…” The unfamiliar voice, deep and masculine, sends a bolt of pure adrenaline through me. “So that’s the alpha I should thank tonight…”
I whirl toward the silhouette of a broad male alpha.
He stalks across the roof toward me, scent hidden downwind.
I scramble backwards, panicking. I should scream, yell for help, flee, brace, but I can’t get my body to work.
“I thought for sure she was going to claim you.” The alpha gives a cruel, cold chuckle. “Weakling. Female alphas always are. They don’t have the stomach to do what ought to be done… Hm. Her loss, my gain.”
I back into the metal wall of an air conditioning unit and the alpha reaches me, gripping the silk of my dress to pull me to my feet. He takes a deep breath, then runs his tongue up my cheek and face.
“Aren’t you just delicious…”
I should kick, fight, run. I’ve practiced every maneuver a thousand times. But my body is frozen, far away.
I’m trapped in a memory.
Twenty years ago
I’d begged, nagged, pleaded, bargained, coerced, cajoled. And finally, finally, I convinced Mom and Dad to take me and Annie to the circus.
World-class productions like Circus of the Sun don’t come to little omega haven towns. It’s my first time in a city, and I’m dazzled. The lights, the shops, the sounds, and so many people. I ping back and forth, bouncing at the end of my leash: my hand held firmly in Mom’s.
By contrast, when we make it into the stadium—the biggest building I’ve ever seen—I don’t stray from my seat for a moment. I sit rapt, watching acrobats and contortionists, trick cyclists and clowns, eyes widening with every gravity-defying trick.
At intermission, Mom has to bribe me with ice cream to get me to go to the bathroom, I’m so worried about missing the show starting again. And once I’ve hurried back to my seat, ice-cream in hand, I beam up at her.
“I’m gonna be up there someday,” I promise her. “And then you’re gonna come back and sit right here and watch me.”
Her brow furrows, then softens. “I’m sure you will, Mylo.”
I glow with pride.
It’s the last day Mom will ever believe in my dreams.
After the show is over, we’re heading across the lobby when Annie starts fussing.
“She needs her nap,” Dad says. “Time to go back to the car.”
“No,” I gasp. “Please, I want a poster!”
Mom and Dad exchange a glance. “We can order one online, sweetie,” Mom offers.
“But this one is signed, and they said it’s an exclusive. We learned that word in Ms. Robin’s class last week; it means it won’t be anywhere else. We have to get it today!”
Mom glances up and evaluates the lobby. “The line is really long, Mylo…”
“I’ll stand still and be very quiet. I promise!”
Mom and Dad exchange another look, then their expressions soften. Mom cracks a smile.
My heart soars.
“Alright, Mylo,” Mom says. “Since you asked so nicely.” She looks to Dad. “Why don’t you take Annie to the car? She can start her nap and we’ll catch up…” She looks at the line with a sigh. “…whenever we catch up.”
“Thank you, thank you!” I throw a hug around Mom’s waist.
Dad kisses her cheek, then he carries fussing Annie out of the stadium.
The line takes ages, but I master myself, waiting with perfect patience. I go back over the show in my head, and the poster hanging at the top of the merch station—a trapeze-artist mid-leap large at the center, with the ensemble cast gathered around them—beckons me forward.
It’s fully dark outside by the time my treasure, the rolled-up and cast-signed poster, is in my hand.
I tug Mom’s hand to get her to look down at me.
“Yeah, Mylo?”
“This was the best day.”
A soft, kind smile crosses her face. “I’m happy to see you so happy.”
All my pent-up energy needs an outlet, and I skip alongside Mom, humming the circus’s tune as we walk back to the parking lot.
“This looked different in the daylight,” Mom says quietly, warily scanning the darkness around us.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’ll protect you with my space cannon.” I point the rolled-up poster at the darkness and make laser noises.
As I scan the surrounding area, I realize there aren’t nearly as many people anymore, but it was fine when we came this way before, so it must be alright.
Mom gasps quietly, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me to her side. “Stay close, Mylo.”
“You should listen to your mother, kid.” The deep, masculine voice doesn’t sound kind.
I look up at the towering, broad man—way taller than Dad, and bigger than anyone I’ve ever seen back home. He smells weird, too. Strong and sour, like gasoline.
“I always listen to Mom,” I say defiantly.
“Honey, shhh.”
The man kneels, sniffing at me. “Ah… you take after your mother…”
She pulls me around behind her. “Don’t you touch him.”
He grabs her chin roughly. “Oh, I’ll enjoy watching the fight drain out of you.”
Mom just trembles as the strange man slowly pushes us back into a dark alley. Her grip on my wrist suddenly loosens.
“Honey, you need to run.”
The man chuckles. “Like I said, kid. Listen to your mom.”
I don’t know what’s happening, but I know it’s bad. “Leave her alone!” I jump out from behind Mom and swing my rolled-up poster at the man.
He grabs it out of the air, crushing it in his hand and throwing it aside.
“Mylo, run,” Mom pleads.
“Leave her alone!” I let out a shrill, piercing scream as only a child can, and launch myself at the man, aiming one of the strikes I learned in karate class at his crotch.
He grunts and grabs the back of my shirt, lifting me off the ground.
“Mylo, please stop, baby just run—”
“Shut up, runt.”
I kick and scratch and scream and bite—until the strange man throws me against the alley wall. Pain floods my body, and my scream turns into a wail.
“I said, shut up.” The alpha’s bark steals my breath as he shoves Mom into the dirt.
I cower against the wall, lungs frozen, unable to make a sound.
The strange man prowls closer.
I tremble, terrified.
Then a voice, muffled: “I heard it from here!”
Footsteps pound on the street, and a bright lamp sweeps the alley. The strange man growls, turns, and takes off. A chain-link fence at the back of the alley rattles as he scales it, vaulting over the top and landing in a roll, then sprinting away.
Two more dark shapes follow him, and one stops in front of me.
I whimper, covering my head with my arms.
The bright light softens, illuminating another large man—but this one seems kind and calm. He kneels near me, but not close enough to touch me.
“It’s okay, buddy. You’re safe now. That man can’t bother you anymore.”
“He tried to hurt my mom,” I wail, lungs finally working again.
“I know. He’s a very bad alpha. It’s against the law to do what he just did, and we’re going to make sure he can’t do it again.”
Later I would learn that people call men like that ‘feral alphas’ to distance themselves from just how common encounters like that are for unbonded omegas. And since my mother loved a beta, she would remain forever unbonded, forever vulnerable.
But what stuck with me more than anything else, the words that carved themselves into my soul, that echoed in my mind forever after, were spoken in my mother’s trembling, fear-filled voice.
“This is why I didn’t want to come to the city, Mylo. I hope you had fun tonight. Because we’re never leaving home again.”
I should’ve begged Christine to bite me. Should’ve known that as soon as I felt that first heat, my life was over, in one way or another.
At least then I could’ve been with her.
And not this cruel stranger.
I tremble, eyes closing as the alpha’s flexing claws dig gashes in my chest.
Here I am, about to accept my fate silently and without struggle, like the pathetic omega I’ve always been.
A menacing snarl echoes across the rooftop, and I wince—but it’s not coming from the alpha in front of me.
“Get your fucking hands off him!”
There’s a thud, and the claws are gone.
I open my eyes to see the alpha flat on the roof—pinned by Christine. She’s half-shifted, even taller than usual, pointed ears twisting back and fangs glinting in the low light.
The alpha recovers from his shock and throws Christine off, sending her rolling.
She uses the momentum to drop into a ready stance, springing back to her feet.
He slashes at her with claws still dripping with my blood, and she dodges the clumsy blow, hooking a knee into his stomach. As the alpha coughs and doubles over, her elbow cracks down on his spine, sending him to his knees.
That move would put even the best beta fighter down for the count. But alphas are built different. He moves to push upright, but Christine aims a wicked kick at his head, and he only barely manages to get his hands up in time.
He’s faster than he has any right to be for his size, and he sweeps around a leg that I’m sure will send Christine to the ground.
But she jumps nimbly over it, landing another kick in the ditch of his knee, and in the fraction of hesitation as his body processes the pain, another cracks along his spine.
He rolls and rights himself, only to catch a right hook to the jaw and a kick to the ribs that sends the sound of cracking bones echoing across the rooftop.
From there, he’s totally on the defensive.
Christine pummels him mercilessly until he’s a moaning heap on the ground—and then some more.
She doesn’t stop until his breath does.
And then she turns to me, eyes wide with concern. Blood splatters her pale shirt and face, and the wind sends her hair streaming into the night, a glowing beacon.
My rescuer.
My dark angel.
My alpha.
She rushes toward me, and a sob escapes my frozen chest as her arms fold around me.
“I’ve got you, Mylo. I’ve got you. It’s alright now.”
I shake and cry against her as time seems to blur.
This time, there’s no, you should have known, only, “You’re safe now.” No, this is all your fault, only, “I’m so sorry.”
No dark shadow fleeing over a fence to haunt my dreams. I don’t know if that limp pile on the rooftop is dead or only dying, but I feel completely, totally confident that I will never see him again.
Loud, ugly sobs tear through me, my tears joining the blood on her shirt, but Christine never wavers. Decades-old terror finally drains from my muscles until I’m too tired to cry anymore.
Then there’s just her fingers sliding through my hair, and her low, quiet purr steadying me.
“Tell me what you need, baby,” she whispers. “Anything.”
I take a shuddering, sniffling breath, leaning heavily against her chest, since I know it’s the last time I’m going to do so.
The words catch painfully in my throat like they’re barbed, but it’s the only thing I’m confident of.
“I need to go home.”