Chapter 1
Chapter
One
Six years later
ORLA
Pulling my dark hair out of its top knot, I blow out a breath as I glare at my reflection in the mirror. These long nights are killing me. I’m off the next few days by force, but they won’t be relaxing.
My blue eyes glitter back as if mocking me, and for all I know, my inner omega is doing exactly that. I track my heats like it’s my damn job. If I’m honest with myself, my crankiness is because my heat is due to show her ugly, horny face very soon.
Mickey moved out a year ago to live with his new pack, leaving me to find a new roommate. While Kailee is really sweet, she’s still grieving after her pack rejected her. It doesn’t matter that it happened almost three years ago, I can hear her crying when I get in late after my shift.
Sometimes, the pain sticks. I know mine does.
“Chickie, are you good?” Mickey asks, getting my attention as I pull on my coat. The weather is milder than it has been, but it’s still necessary to bundle up for the walk home at night.
He knows every terrible thing that I’ve ever done. When I moved in, he greeted me with a bottle of tequila, and we bonded over it. He knows all about my past with the rockstars of Frozen Hearts.
“Yeah, I’m going to lock up and head out,” I say, forcing a smile as I turn to face him and fluff out my hair.
“Do you have a pack in place?” he asks.
To have something to do, I fix my purse so the strap is over my head. The last thing I need is to get mugged on my way home. This way, it’s secure across my body.
Mickey and I have been friends for too long to not know when we’re nearing a heat.
He’s the one who pushed me to go clubbing with him so that I wouldn’t have to go through a heat alone.
I lost my virginity that way, but the alphas were all in a rut my first time, so they didn’t notice.
It was painful, messy, and I cried the entire time.
The blood was hidden in my slick, and my sobbing was mistaken for being out of my mind with heat.
Nothing has been as bad as my first heat. It should have been incredible according to all the stories I’ve read online, but it’s just propaganda for omegas.
Sex has always been transactional in a way, no matter what pack I’m with.
I had to figure out what I liked, and then find packs that could deliver on what I needed.
It’s dirty, hot sex for three days, where they make sure I drink water and eat moderately.
Sometimes, they ask to help me through my next heat if we vibe together, others they don’t.
I typically turn them down nicely. I’m here for a good time, but never a long one. Catching feelings sucks, and I won’t ever do that again.
“I do, as long as they don’t flake,” I sigh. “You know I’m on meds that make sure I only have heats quarterly, but even then, it’s getting harder to find alphas that are reliable.”
Mickey winces, because that’s how he felt too, just before he found his pack.
“You never give them a second chance,” he says, opening his arms to give me a hug. Knowing he’s not judging me for it, I walk into his arms, hugging him back.
Our boss has the night off since he knows I’ll be out the next few days.
Over the past year, I’ve been taking on more responsibilities for him and I’m now his manager.
Mickey has been here longer than I have, but he doesn’t like having to be here early and leave late, especially when he has a pack.
The only thing keeping him here is the fact that he enjoys the work.
Sometimes, his pack comes in and drinks around closing, just so they can be near him. It’s adorable, and I’m really happy for him.
“They haven’t done anything to deserve a second chance,” I tell Mickey, pulling away. “Are the guys here yet?”
I’m changing the subject, something he knows immediately as he rolls his eyes.
“Yes, they texted me just before I came back to make sure you were okay,” he grumbles.
“Good, then I’ll see you when I’m back to work,” I say, shooing him ahead of me as I walk him out to the front door.
Waving at his pack as they open the car door for him, I smile as they leave and I lock up again. I don’t usually mind closing, but I feel very twitchy tonight. It’s like I have an itch on my neck that I can't scratch and my skin is crawling.
I need to get home to my nest so I can text the pack that I’m supposed to be fucking for the next three days. There’s nothing romantic about this at all.
The truth is, I’ve had to make my own kind of safety the last few years.
Pulling closed all the blinds, I walk through the bar and turn off all the lights.
The only medication I’m on now is a new form of heat control that cuts down how many heats I have in a year.
I can’t take off work every month, and Mickey suggested that I get on the medication when they first became available.
There seem to be less side effects than the blocking medication I used to be on.
That shit used to make me so dizzy, I almost knocked myself out once on the kitchen counter.
Shaking my head at the trial and error of medication I’ve had to test out as an omega, I stop just short of the employee area to write a note to the boss.
I’m running low on a few things and want to make sure that he restocks while I’m gone. I never thought I’d help to run a bar, but I’m having fun with it.
When I first started working here, I never thought I’d have to tell Caleb my story. However, as expected, Frozen Hearts hit it big with their first few songs, and the bar would play over the speakers. As an Irish bar, the crowd loves songs with angst, pain, and a wicked guitar riff.
The worst part is the lyrics. They talk about the girl who got away, and have gotten progressively crueler over the years. Nothing blocked out the words, not even ear plugs. I finally had to beg Caleb to ban Frozen Hearts’ songs from his playlist.
I had a lot of explaining to do, but he inevitably agreed. It already feels as if there are too many people who know my secrets. I don’t like it.
Walking down the back hallway, I begin to turn off the lights. While I’m working, I typically smear a gel underneath my nose so I can concentrate with the sea of alpha pheromones I’m surrounded by. It mutes all the scents, allowing me to breathe without worry.
It also keeps me from filling the bar with my perfume. Even though it’s great for tips, it’s not something I’m comfortable with. It’s a rookie mistake, and I’m capable of pulling great money with just my low cut shirts and a smirk.
I always wash off the gel before I walk home because it makes me scent blind, which is dangerous.
The city is still having problems with auction brokers kidnapping omegas off the streets, and I’ve heard rumors that an omega named Emilia is responsible for it now that she’s running her own auction house.
It’s as if we jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Blowing out a breath, I steel my spine and push open the back door.
It’ll lock behind me, so I step out into the alley and begin walking quickly.
The cool breeze whips through the alley, making me shiver.
Suddenly, I’m happy for the coolness of spring, because I feel like I have an internal furnace inside of me.
I will sometimes have spikes before my heat, signaling that I’m very close to tipping over the edge.
It usually gives me enough time to enact my emergency care routine.
I’m annoyed that it’s happening so early in the morning.
It means I’m going to need to text the alphas who agreed to help me through my heat.
Pulling out my phone, I bring up Ricky’s number. He’s the night owl of the crew, and my best bet to catch before he goes to bed.
Me:
Hey, I think I’m going into heat earlier than planned. I know it’s really late, but would you be up for me coming over?
Minneapolis is a ghost town at three in the morning. I believe that it’s when the devil dances through the streets, but I also find it very peaceful. I live comfortably with what I make from the bar, however, it’s not enough for a car.
I also don’t mind the walk usually.
My phone pings, alerting me to a text, and I whisper up a prayer that they remember our agreement.
Ricky:
We kind of have company. It might not be a good idea to come by.
“Ew,” I breathe. “Fucking man whores.”
Who has a booty call over when they know an omega is going to need their cum for herself? Okay, that sounds really jealous and needy now that I think about it. Especially for alphas that are this gross.
On second thought, whoever is over there right now can keep their dicks for her or himself. I don’t need them that badly.
Me:
No worries. Enjoy your booty call. I’ll find another alpha to service my pussy.
Hmm. Too much?
My feet still move quickly as I hurry down the sidewalk, the shadows long with the minimal light from the streetlights.
I change my number every quarter because I don’t want the alphas who helped me through my heat to contact me again. It’s only awkward when I run into them at a club, and I have to tell them I changed my number when they ask why I’m not returning their calls.
My life isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s just what I need to be able to keep my head above water.
Shoving my phone away in my purse, I keep my eyes moving to make sure no one steps out in front of me, and I stay away from the alley entrances. The last thing I need is to be betrayed by my body by a would-be rapist.
“Hey pretty mama!” a voice crows.
“For real?” I huff.
I want to tell him to fuck off, but I really just want to get home. A cramp hits my stomach, making me bend over from nausea as I whine. Fuck, the world must hate me. I thought I had more time.
Moving even faster, I curse as I see a couple of betas smoking in the alley. Typically, I won’t see anyone, and now it’s a fucking party.
I feel hot and sweaty, the cooler air doing nothing to help me. I want to strip down to my underwear. As my condition deteriorates, so do my inhibitions.
I vaguely hear someone call my name, which shouldn’t be possible. Twisting around, I see three men standing behind me with masks over their faces.
Fuck.
Deciding that the best option is to run, I take off down the street. I’ve seen too many horror movies to be the girl who waits for death to find her.
My skin feels like a thousand needles are stabbing me, my anxiety is pushing my heart rate high enough that I’m gasping for air, and I know I’m in serious shit.
I’m an omega going into heat in the middle of the fucking city.
Sobbing out a breath, I take a gamble and cut down a side street, intent to try to get to the fire escape of my apartment.
If I can just climb up, then I can get inside through my window.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
“Orla!” a deep, dark voice yells. Instead of helping, my pussy clenches on nothing, making me whine as I slick. Fuck, now is not the time to think that the sexy masked men are sexy.
My brain must be melting down, because I notice how ripped their bodies are. Their thighs were thick with muscles, their sweatshirts pushed up their arms to show off delicious ink, and their hoods pulled over to hide their hair.
Why the fuck am I also thinking about licking up their muscles, wondering what their sweat tastes like? Apparently, I’m a thirsty bitch.
Shaking out my hands, I put some more speed into my run.
I’m wearing comfortable boots, I can make it.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve been on my feet for ten hours, or that I have slick pushing out of my pussy.
I have toys with knots in my nest I can use, and I’ll hole up for the next three days alone.
It can't be any worse from any of my other heats where the dicks are attached to selfish alphas, right?