"A shifter will scar if the injury is profound or by magical interference. The full moon helps us heal, as well as proximity to our mates—" Doc's eyes twinkle. "In any case, you might have these scars the rest of your life. I'm sorry for that."
My fingertips trace the raised scar on my neck. But this time, the memory flooding in uninvited isn't the usual fare. It's from last night. It's from my dream.
I had nightmares about what he did to me for months. But this was different. This felt like I was watching through someone else's eyes. And it feltsoreal. Who was that girl? Twice now, I've seen her in my dreams. Why did she look so… feral? Why would I have dreamt of some random woman I've never met before?
Sometimes an omega carries other gifts, such as premonitions or healing powers.
What?I ask Beep in my head.
That's what your mate said. Only yesterday. Were you listening?
I think back. Orion answered a lot of questions yesterday while I was coming off of the pain and sleep meds.Didn't he also say how rare it was?I add.
She doesn't answer. I shake my head and pull away from Orion. His brow furrows in concern.
I don't have special powers. It was just a nightmare.
Before he can ask whatever question is forming, I decide I'm more than ready to go exploring, to wipe that curiosity off their faces, and to clear the charged air since Grayson stormed off.
"Doc? Ready to go exploring?"
Orion tilts his chin toward the doorway. "I'll go with Grayson to the enforcer's gym. Doc, if you need anything—"
Doc holds up his hand. "She will be well cared for. Now, go. You have work to do, and the sooner we introduce Mona to the community, the sooner she can integrate."
Orion begins cleaning up the mess Grayson made. I'm tempted to help, but Doc ushers me along, stopping just before we leave the cabin.
"Hang on, I've got another bag for you," he says, shuffling outside ahead of me. He pulls a few overstuffed bags out of his truck. When he returns, he sets them all on a table.
"Donations—clothes, shoes, toiletries. Anything you should need, but if something's missing, you just let me—well, really, let anyone know and they will be more than happy to help you."
I stare at the bags longer than necessary. Tears prick my eyes as I think about how much I took for granted in my old life. And how many times I stole a pair of pants in the last few months. Or a leftover piece of soap. Food, scraps. Dug things out of the trash.
I didn't have space to feel shame when I did it. I was just surviving.
And here I am in this wonderful mountain community, and they just gave me everything I could ever need. All these people who don't even know me. Donations. I can tell it's from a range of people, women mostly. I can scent them on the clothes.
"Mona?" Doc asks. "Are you alright, dear?"
I clear my throat. "Thanks for this," I say before taking the bags and hauling them all upstairs and into the bedroom I'vecommandeered. I took a shower yesterday, but it was quick. I was afraid if I let myself enjoy it, I'd never leave.
I get dressed in clean clothes, setting the ones I was wearing in an empty laundry basket. I opt for a tank top, but grab a cardigan to cover my arms, pull on a pair of jeans that are snug in the hips, followed by a clean pair of socks and shoes. I'm relieved to find a new package of generic underwear and a few simple sports bras.
When I finish, I still probably look like I rolled around in a lost-and-found bin, but this time, I don't feel embarrassed by it.
I feel… grateful.
Doc points things out as we drive. I'm well-rested and fed, so I can pay closer attention than yesterday. We talk about the different leaders in the community—the enforcers, and the elders, who claim Grayson's attention at least once a month—though Doc makes it sound like it's more of a courtesy from Grayson, a gesture of respect, than a necessity.
I don't know how to reconcile this kinder version of Grayson with his outburst earlier. My omega wasn't scared, she was worried for him. But something about all of this still feels volatile, like he doesn't know where I fit in his world, while Orion seems so certain.
We pass a schoolhouse, though in a clan of a few thousand, there are surprisingly few children—they're playing outside, and I spot Joey, the little boy from yesterday, hopping around with his friends, giggling wildly.
Everything about this place makes me feel like I've stumbled into a storybook.
Maybe Beep was right. Maybe our destiny does lie here.
Told you. We wasted months on the road.
