This is the worst case scenario, and why there has been a major push lately for more legislation on un-bonded or solo Omega travel.
“I’ll handle it,” I say, knowing that Brock has an Omega waiting at home, and smelling like this rogue one after a flight is just going to piss her off as soon as we land.
I grab the intercom and speak to the entire plane.
“Everyone is to take their seats immediately. Please buckle your seatbelts and close your tray tables, we’re about to hit some turbulence,” I say, which is a lie. But nothing gets people's asses in their seats quicker than some turbulence.
I give Brock a nod, and he might adjust the plane ever so slightly to give some semblance of a bumpy ride.
The flight attendants voice takes over the cockpit again. “Everyone is seated, sir. Attendant A and D are stationed and prepared for you to leave the cockpit.”
I unbuckle my belt and unlock the cockpit, it shuts behind me as me and the flight attendant switch spots. I flatten down my tie, nodding to the flight attendants guarding the cockpit, and make the trek to the back of the plane. I get a lot of confused looks as I make my way down the aisle. There's a cacophony of Alpha scents, but the further back I get I can scent her clear as day.
Lemon pound cake.
My mouth waters and I shake my head as I reach the back galley right next to the bathroom.
“Seriously, they get everything, at least let us do our job in peace,” one of the women says.
“I swear if we have to do a reroute I’m going to lose my shit. I’m supposed to be meeting Matthew tonight.”
“Ladies,” I say, interrupting their complaining as I glance at the lav door.
They both still and suddenly act professional again.
“She won’t come out, some of the Alphas are ornery. What do we do?” they ask.
We could re-route, stop at another airport and get the poor Omega off the plane and then continue the trip. The situation qualifies as a medical emergency.
I pull the curtain and direct them to place the beverage cart in the aisle before knocking on the door.
“This is Captain Mackardy, can you unlock the door so we can speak?” I ask softly.
There’s some banging around in the lavatory and when I glance at the flight attendant, she’s rolling her eyes in frustration.
I get it. I really do.
In the air is the worst possible time for something like this to happen. But how else is she supposed to get across the country if she isn’t bonded?
“Miss. I’m going to need to speak to you or else I’m going to need to deem this a medical emergency and do an emergency landing.”
“Just you?” the small voice says on the other side of the door.
“Just me,” I reply.
The door crinkles open quickly as she grabs me by the wrist and tugs me into the bathroom.
In here together, we barely fit, I have to place a hand on the ceiling so I don’t fall over her. She slips a hand past my waist and locks the door.
Thanks to her scent, the only thing it smells like in here is lemon pound cake covered in vanilla icing.
She looks like she’s been tugging on her long brown wavy hair as her big brown eyes meet mine.
“Please…please don’t land the plane. I…”
Then tears trickle down her face. It’s pure instinct as I grab her face, her skin is soft and her eyes lock in with mine.
“You don’t have a pack?”
