Stride, stride, stride. My feet and Kai’s made street music, a regular percussive beat.
It was days later, I’d had my shower and another every day since, the act of getting into the cubicle, the feel of water on my skin, no longer so painful. I had a new therapist now, one Rosemary had recommended right before asking Mum to never darken her door again. I was waking up in the morning, having something to eat, going for a run with Kai, taking a break, then doing some weights and sparring in the garage before having lunch and a nap.
“A routine is good. Finding one that works and not beating yourself up too much if you can’t always follow it is helpful,” the new therapist had said. She was short, very mumsy, and had an omega vibe, even if she was a beta. “And so is making time for pain. You must process what has happened to you.”
That was my least favourite part, but I did so from the safety of my nest. I’d been pushed to start accepting my omega nature, and while I didn’t need to build something like I did when in heat, I had an innate need for enclosed comforting spaces. A massive pile of washed and neatly folded fabrics had arrived on the doorstep one day, the scents on them muted. Whoever had washed them had used de-scenter, had tried to eradicate any trace of themselves from the gift. But in this state, a heightened awareness brought on by being apart from my mate, I caught traces of it. Just a hint of brown sugar and rum. Orion. My jaw had flexed as I considered the pile, Mum coming out to see why I was hovering around on the doorstep, fading away when I scooped the fabric up and deposited it in my room.
We hadn’t really talked yet. We didn’t often, so there was that, but the constant reminders about eating and sleeping and whatever she got from her books about the care and feeding of feral omegas had stopped. My new therapist had sat her down and had some private sessions with her. What they talked about, I wasn’t privy to, but the changes were obvious.
Unfortunately, that didn’t leave a lot for us. Our relationship had been one of her caring for me, her daughter, still a child of sorts, despite being in my twenties. Adu
lt Mum and adult Cyn just met each other’s eyes for a few seconds at a time, hurt flashing there, and then went about their business.
Until now.
“The Omega Ball.” Mum sighed, putting down the knife on the chopping board. She was in the kitchen behind the prep bench, starting the makings of a salad. “I’m having difficulties getting dispensation. It would be…” I watched her knuckles whiten. “It would be easier if I could provide evidence of your mating. I know that would register the both of you officially with the—”
“No.”
“We’re still exploring what it takes to break the bond—”
“No.” My reply was less certain there. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was rejecting.
“Then it’s a matter of attending the ball. I’ve spoken to George, discussed the ways we can minimise the time you spend there, the minimum dress standard. You don’t have to wear the dress Madam—”
“No.”
She let out a long breath through her nose, then dared to look me straight in the eyes, frustration, anger, pain all warring with something I didn’t think I’d ever seen before—fear. I’d read in a self-help book that you truly become an adult when you start to see your parents as fallible adults, not as monolithic power figures. I frowned, searching her face, not sure how to respond to what I saw. She was Miranda fucking Rhodes, she strode through executive suites and boardrooms like a bitch on wheels, laying waste to anyone who fucked with her. What the hell was she scared of?
Me, always me. I knew that, her success in business rooted in that, but… Surely at some point, there needed to be more.
“Mum, you never wanted to have an omega daughter.”
“Cyn, I—”
“Mum?”
My tone was bald, frank, no omega timidity sneaking in here, and I wouldn’t let it. That seemed to be the right approach to take, some tension easing in her spine.
“No,” she said, with a slow nod, “I didn’t. Everything omega is…messy. All those instincts, all those emotions.” Her lips pursed, her teeth sinking into it. “I had an inkling of your designation, with your moods and preoccupations as a child, but I’d talked myself into thinking you were an alpha.” Her eyes met mine, unwavering now. “This doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You… If you have a child one day, you might experience the exquisite contradictory state of loving the entire being of the person you brought into the world, while wishing that some of the circumstances could change.”
Her smile was small, stiff. It always was.
“The new therapist, Melanie, has been very helpful. I think she’s far superior to Rosemary. She helped me to understand the unique strength of omegas. Does she talk to you about that? Does Kai? You are strong, so strong.”
“I am, which means I need to start taking responsibility for my own life, my own self-care.” I traced the nubby weave of the cushion I was hugging, then put it back on the couch. “I’ll work with Madam to sort my dress and with George about my attendance at the ball. And at some point, I’ll talk it through with Rhys…”
Yeah, I wasn’t feeling that strong right now, but I didn’t need to all the time. Blustering and putting on a front the whole time was alpha bullshit and why they were statistically more likely to die of a heart attack.
“When I’m ready,” I said, finally ending the sentence.
“Very well, you’ll have a security detail at the ball.”
“Mum…”
“Not from me, and he was adamant. Just rang my office, dropped the details, and hung up on me. I’ve tried calling back and discussing the matter, but he doesn’t pick up his phone nor answer my emails.”
“Sounds like Marcus,” I said with a snort.