Dozens of omegas working together sounded ridiculous. Flighty, scatterbrained, submissive, and easily manipulated, omegas were a hazard to society—not a productive part of it.
Yet, more than anything, Elijah wanted to belong. Until he’d gone through his first heat, he’d had plans for his future. Hopes and dreams. Now the best he could hope for was that an alpha would take pity on him and take him home.
“Doing what?” Elijah asked.
“Working for me, putting your natural skills to use.”
The rain beat down heavier. A gale gusted, soaking Elijah from the side. He licked his lips and looked the man up and down.
“And I’ll have somewhere warm and dry to stay?” he asked.
“Always,” the man promised.
“What’s your name?” Elijah stood, doing the best he could to keep his knees from buckling. The wind chilled him to the core, but beneath that was a darker coldness. It settled in his soul and warned him against what he was about to do, but Elijah couldn’t find another way. If this alpha was going to take pity on him, he couldn’t turn him down. It was better than being homeless through the winter.
“You can call me Director Baylor.” The man drew him close, and Elijah closed his eyes and allowed himself to give in to his instincts. The fear was gone now that he was pressed against an alpha’s chest, kept safe from the world and those in it who wished to harm him. It was why omegas were worthless, Elijah told himself. Any being who could give in so easily, who craved reassurance as badly as he did, wasn’t suited for life in the real world. Elijah was lucky that Baylor was willing to take someone as lowly as he was in. “And from here on out, you work for me.”
