If I could stay home with him and be independently wealthy, I would jump at the chance.
That’s not how life worked out for us, but it hurts knowing that once these years are gone, I’ll never be able to get them back.
One small blessing is that Lucky loves Mrs. Bailey and her boys. He lights up immediately upon seeing the other kids, and I have to force him away from the mess of blocks to say goodbye.
He huffs, kissing my cheek. “Love you! I wanna play.”
I smile, patting his butt. “Sorry to keep you from your friends.”
He runs back over and plops down on the floor.
One thing nobody warned me about before I became a parent?
That I would never be more exhausted and somehow still completely fulfilled. It’s also fucking terrifying having my heart walking around in another body.
It’s still the best thing I’ve done with my life so far, even if I never want to change another diaper.
When I was pregnant with Lucky, I found out how dangerous it can be for unbonded omegas to go without access to alpha pheromones during their pregnancy. It was something I never would have known about or considered if it didn’t happen to me, but it did.
I got really lucky by finding an organization that helped omegas who were leaving questionable situations. They got meout of Florida and smuggled me to Virginia. It was all very covert, which was a good thing.
A shiver runs down my spine as the flood of memories comes back in full force.
I ran like my life depended on it—because it did.
By the time I got settled in at Hope House, I was almost four months pregnant and sicker than I’d ever been. They got me in to see a doctor immediately. It was a blessing that she knew what was wrong with me.
I needed contact with alphas, and the foundation set me up for matching the very next day.
I was skittish after everything I went through with Blade—Lucky’s dad.
If it wasn’t necessary to keep my unborn baby healthy, I would have passed on matching altogether.
I got lucky, though.
I met two older alphas, Steve and Miles. They lost their omega a few years prior, and they were struggling with their own need for omega pheromones.
It was a perfect pairing since we all had emotional damage. It allowed us to focus on the basics without worrying about any messy emotions.
They saved my son’s life and kept me healthy during my pregnancy when neither of us were their responsibility. And yeah, I helped by offering my pheromones in return—Miles needed them way more than Steve because he was closer to going rabid—but they were just really good guys.
They taught me that not all alphas are hyper-aggressive psychopaths, dead set on inflicting as much pain and humiliation as possible.
Without meeting them, I never would have considered taking a job at a scent clinic. As soon as I saw the listing advertisementthat mentioned they were hiring, I jumped on it, and I’ve worked at Tasty Treat Scent Clinic since the grand opening.
I love my job.
I spend my day helping feral alphas, and I make good money doing it.
What’s not to love?
Alphas who are on the edge of going rabid need access to omega pheromones, and that’s what scent clinics provide them.
Clients come in and sniff scent cards that have fabric swatches which have been soaked in our pheromones. Once they find one that appeals to their senses, they bring it up to the registration desk and book an appointment.
Sessions can range from thirty minutes to two hours, and I’ve had clients book multiple two-hour sessions in one day. As long as they’re respectful and not aggressive, I don’t mind at all.
My job is to help them, and I actually feel safer when I see repeat clients, mostly because I have an idea of the baseline that they’re starting from.
