CHAPTER ONE
NOA
My final consultation for the day leaves, and I sigh with relief. As much as I love custom orders, I’m pretty antsy today. My cheeks are quick to flush with heat at nearly every word I say, and every conversation seems to run in my head on a loop.
The calendar on my desk is a constant reminder of what’s coming, and yet, I can’t get myself to deal with it just yet. My heat will lick at my heels any moment now.
Despite being on the run for two years now and finally feeling safe enough to settle down here in Nashville, I still don’t have a proper plan for dealing with my heats. They come on quickly and painfully, and every time I just closed shop and dealt with it, I promised myself this time I would plan better, plan something, and I haven’t yet.
Running my hands in my hair, I make my way up tothe front of the store, clicking on the air humidifiers. They integrate scent blockers into the air, damping any lingering scents from other designations that come in.
My consultations may be done for the day, but now it’s time to open to the public.
The scent blockers are the highest expense after rent for my little shop, but the experience my customers have selecting the right blankets for them makes the cost worth it.
The security it gives me as an unbonded omega is worth every darn penny.
The sterile scent of the blockers doesn’t ease me, not today. My shoulders are tense as I organize the fabric samples and clean up the desk. The sterile smell the building takes on puts me further on edge. I need the scents, I need to know who is here and who is not.
My baby, my business, Cozy Bear Blankets, has been running for two years now, and I’ve finally got my first storefront up. A place where an omega can touch the textures and fabrics, see the colors, and get a good sense of whether this blanket is the right fit for their nests before purchasing a blanket from me.
Before Nashville, I was stuck in a small town near Columbus, Ohio, where I was forced into a Pack that didn’t want a working omega. At least not in this way. When I spoke of my dreams and my goal to run my business, they laughed, and when they noticed I was serious, they… they got angry.
No alpha is ever going to hurt me again, not like that.
Taking out the wipes from under my cash register, I wipe down absolutely everything. The chairs at the counter, the tables, the legs of the tables, in case someone’s skin touched them. I don’t want a single smell in this store.
Before I open up the walk-in portion of my day, I try to give the first few customers a chance to be here scent-free. It’s for them, I remind myself as I clean.
I split most of my working days up into halves. One half is for appointments, whether they want a custom blanket made or if they want to browse the store privately, and the second half is for everyone to walk in and browse the blankets, no appointment needed.
I hear the crowd before I see it. The foot traffic here is amazing, and a lot more hockey fans buy blankets than I thought. Maybe because it’s cold in the arena?
I wouldn’t know; I haven’t been even though I’ve had this shop here for about six months now.
Though this crowd seems a bit excited, I step cautiously towards the door. I try to get a better sense of what’s coming, but all I see is a black blur coming this way.
They aren’t coming towards my store, are they? No, they aren’t here for blankets. I scoff at the insane thought. They must be here to see the hockey practice or something.
My little storefront is right outside the Scented Scorpions arena. A hockey team that had a rough start based on the traffic coming from that way, but has grown as the wins started piling up. I play the sports channel on the TV in the store for customers so they can keep up with the game and shop, but it also tells me when to push more blankets out and when I can relax.
Pulling my pink sweater up from dropping off my shoulder, I refold the blankets again on the display tables. Trying to calm down as I watch the massive crowd come closer.
Crowds mean I blend in. Crowds mean I’m harder to find. There are benefits to crowds, and yet the pit in my stomach grows, and anxiety builds in my chest.
Noa, even if only one person comes in to see the blankets, it’d be worth it.
The bell above the door rings, a soft chime that doesn’t scare the daylights out of me whenever someone comes in. Still with my nerves out of control, I jump as if a gunshot goes off, and I turn towards the door.
I plaster my best customer service smile despite the tinge of tears behind my eyes.
“Welcome to–” my smile drops as I take in the empty doorway. Did they change their minds and walk back out before I could see them? “Hello?”
My soft orange crochet blanket is in my hands, mygrip tightening as my nervousness rattles. I step closer to the door. Maybe I imagined the bell?
I jump a mile when I see him. My scent perfuming my fear, and if it weren’t for the heavy scent blockers wafting through the room, I’m sure he could smell me.
A man, tall, at least 6 feet, if not more, crouches on the floor. He’s got light green eyes that pierce my own, in… in fear? Shock, maybe?
