Joggers make their way around the path, skirting in and out as they pass people. Cyclists keep to the side as they ride along on designated paths, sleek and fast in lycra.
Smiling at a cute older couple, I turn to look down the other side of the path, and the breath disappears from my lungs.
An alpha strolls past in a suit, slowing as he approaches me. His nose flexes as he breathes in, his head swinging around. Shrinking back into the bench, I yank my hood as far forward as it’ll go and try my best to make myself invisible.
I watch, holding my breath as I swaddle myself in Axel’s sweatshirt. The alpha breathes in, his nostrils flaring and brows drawing together before he carries on, glancing over his shoulder.
I only relax once he’s out of sight. My hands shake as I push my hood back and raise my water bottle to my lips.
“Gabrielle?”
The soft tone still makes me jump about a clear foot off the bench. My water spills out, spraying me as I cough.
“Shit.”
A familiar figure appears in front of me, honeyed eyes peering at me mournfully from underneath a navy baseball cap. “I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t worry.” I brush at the water. “It’ll dry. What are you doing here?”
Nate still looks apologetic as he eases onto the bench next to me. “I didn’t have a job today, so figured I’d go for a walk.”
The warmth of his body soaks into me where our arms brush together.
“I saw what happened,” he says quietly. “With the alpha. Are you okay?”
I swallow roughly. “Yeah.”
“Does… does that happen often?”
Shrugging, I tell him the truth. “Often enough.”
There aren’t enough omegas to go around. Never have been. It was part of the reason the government locked us up in compounds for years, so they could breed us effectively.
Even now the Creed’s been disbanded, the world still isn’t safe for us. Any omega that isn’t behind the walls of the Omega Center is fair game for a lot of alphas.
Nothing’s really changed. There’s still a collar around my neck, even if it’s metaphorical.
“I’m really sorry,” Nate murmurs. “I never realized how full on we must be coming across to you. You have to deal with that shit every day.”
Startled, I look up at him. He looks stricken.
“I don’t mind.” The confession slips out of me like a secret shared, dangling in the air between us. “From your pack, I mean. I don’t mind.”
Nate freezes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Just… take it slowly?”
“Always.” He turns to me with a smile. “Does this mean I can buy you presents?”
My heart flips in my chest, my breath catching. He studies my expression, grin growing.
“I heard omegas like presents,” he whispers conspiratorially. “I have a lot of ideas, you know.”
The sudden pang takes me by surprise.
It’s true, I do like presents. It’s a well-known omega trait.
We like shiny, pretty,softthings.
