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I move to the seat and perch on it, drinking my chocolate while I consider the three of them. Out of the corner of my eye, I see several men come out of a studio. Their hair is wet, and they are joking around, happy, relaxed.
“What's that?”
“Sports centre.” Lukas grunts from his perch. “Alphas need to expend a lot of energy. The rich do that by having sports centres and places that allow physical activities. Like back home, we have underground fights.”
I nod; it makes sense. But even more interesting is that he still sees himself as one of the poor. One of the guys from my neighbourhood. No wonder they understand me.
“The omegas,” Lukas says. He points, and I stare blankly until I understand. “Get places like those. Nests R Us. The Omegas Spa.” My eyes are wide as I study the two shops.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I hadn’t really studied up much on omegas past the most pressing information of biology and how to hide. Nesting…I hadn’t really thought about that at all. A strange longing surges through me, but I push it down and sip my drink.
I sense someone behind me, and a moment later, Seb’s scent curls around me. I want to close my eyes and just savour it. I don’t. That would be…wrong. I think.
“Is this natural?”
I turn my head a bit and find him holding the ends of my hair in his huge hand.
“Yep. I’m the only one of my siblings with this colour. Muse and Elise ended up with auburn hair like mum. Trin takes after dad with black hair.”
I don’t know why I just spewed all that information at him. I take a huge gulp of the chocolate to stop the verbal spillage.
This time, when he lets my hair go, I feel his hand and shudder. It takes everything I have to sit still and not lean back into it.
Darion arrives and checks his phone. “Let's go.”
I allow Seb to herd me after Darion, glancing back only once to see Lukas drop from twenty feet to land in a neat crouch on the ground. I snap my head forward, locking my gaze on Darion’s shoulders and refusing to allow myself to look away. None of them are carrying any bags.
“Now, where?” I ask as I slide into the backseat. “We didn’t buy anything, does that mean we need to go to another shop?” I ask in resignation.
Darion sits beside me this time, but he doesn’t take his eyes off his phone. “No. I’ll hire one of those personal shopper people so we don’t end up in prison, they can deliver it. Now, we take care of some business.”
I frown but don’t argue. How do you argue with that?
We drive back, heading to a neighbourhood near mine. It could pass as the same, but this one has fewer houses and more dilapidated buildings. Once, it used to be a thriving district where jobs were plentiful, but after a series of closures and lower classes moved here like unwanted cattle in a cattle yard, the remaining businesses packed up and abandoned shop, leaving it to fall with the rest of us.
As we drive along, I stare at building after building. The paint is worn, the people I see look wrong. They walk stooped, their eyes shift, they’re defensive and hopeless, and they don’t wear bright colours. The poor really are easy to identify if you know where to look. Black to blend, brown to hide, gray because there’s no feeling left but despair. We don’t wear things that make us stand out, not during the daytime.
Lukas stops the car, and Darion gets out. I race after him, feeling ill. Did I want to see this? No. Could I turn my back on it? No. I need to know what they are doing, but I’m afraid of what I will find.
He enters a faded green door and climbs a narrow staircase. I’m right on his heels when he walks up to a door with a nine hanging upside down. It is pulled open slowly, and a wave of sugar cookies hits us, my stomach growls, and my mouth waters.
An old lady stands up from a faded green chair and smiles. “Darion, baby, I didn’t know you were coming today.”
I stop in the doorway; I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s not this. Maybe threats, violence, cold, cruelty. But there’s a sweetness to this woman, and Darion bends so she can kiss his cheek. Her hair is silver and white, she’s steeped over, but her lines are deep when she smiles, and she has an aura of kindness. They know each other, and they know each other well. They care about each other.
I think…Darion brought me home. I blink as that realisation changes all my expectations.
Her eyes find me, and she freezes and steps around him. “Who’s this then?”
“Uh, Oma, this is my omega. Missy.”
“Missy.” I like the way she says my name. She walks towards me, dragging one of her feet. I notice, but pretend I don’t. “An omega. Darion, you should have brought her straight away.”
“I did, Oma. First stop, I promise.”
