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“If they won’t look your direction, they’re morons.”
She said it like she was personally aggrieved, and I snorted a laugh. “Thanks. I really don’t blame them. Scent matching is how this usually works. Biology is a bitch.”
I could see the wheels turning. “There must be a pack that would give it a chance. I can’t believe there isn’t a pack out there for you.”
Again with the tears. I wanted to be tough, to tell her that I didn’t need a damn pack. That I was fine on my own with my beta friends. Most of the time it was true, but these meetings tended to stir up emotions I usually kept buried. And now I was crying like a pathetic baby.
Tiffany was by my side in an instant, her arm around my shoulders, giving me a tissue. Her voice soothed and comforted. Omega empathy rolled off her in waves, along with her delicate rose scent, until I could catch my breath and relax.
Even as my tears stopped, my heart ached. I wanted to have a family to give that kind of attention to, to be their emotional support. Nurturing was in my nature. Being on my own was like having a hole in my soul.
Tiffany pulled back with her hands on my shoulders, forcing me to meet her firm gaze.
“Don’t give up hope. We have information on thousands of alpha packs. We’ll find a match.”
“It’s been eight years. When will it be time to give up?” My voice was strong and even, the tears dried. It was a rational question. Maybe it was time for the Network to wash their hands of me. I was a waste of her time.
She sighed. “I can’t make you any promises. But I am going to work on this.” Her hands went to her lap while she kept her eyes on me. “Do you have things that make you happy? Opportunities to help others?”
For a young woman, maybe twenty or twenty-one, she was pretty astute. My impression of her was rapidly improving. I didn’t spend a lot of time around other omegas, by necessity and by choice. They were often busy with their families, and selfishly, I wanted to protect myself from feelings of jealousy. Sometimes I forgot how emotionally intelligent they were.
I nodded. “I run an arts charity. We help youth artists who struggle with affording supplies and lack of support at home. Established artists teach classes and offer mentorship, and we provide studio space. Our attached gallery shows the kids’ work.” I took a deep breath. “It makes me feel really good. I’ve seen kids blossom, seen their lives change for the better.”
The nonprofit, called Templeton Street Arts, benefited from donors with very deep pockets. I’d studied art a little in college, but my degree was in business. My primary job was to fundraise and keep the lights on.
Art had always been my passion. Not to make, but to appreciate. Art museums and galleries were my favorite places to visit. I loved to see what the kids produced and meet the artists who came in to teach. It was the perfect blend of my interests and my skills.
Tiffany gave me a radiant smile that eased the last of my self-pity.
“You were meant to help people. Well done.”
That affirmation was exactly what I needed to hear.
She offered some more suggestions for self-care and assurance that she would try to help me. What meant the most was her offer to get together for coffee, and we made plans to meet up.
It was evening when I finally made my way out of the Network offices, so I put on my light jacket against the late-summer chill. I was feeling a little better than when I went in, which was a first.
The sidewalk outside the historic brick building was bustling, but as usual, I was hidden in plain sight. Other omegas would need to use the parking garage, even get a beta escort, to avoid unwanted attention from alphas who could scent them. I could go out in a crowd and never draw notice. It was one positive thing, at least.
I had a lot more freedom than other omegas, something my younger sister reminded me of constantly. She told me she was jealous of my job and my ability to go out unescorted. I was jealous of her having found her pack. The grass is always greener.
A group walked past me going the same direction. Businessmen, judging by their suits and long coats. The air filled with the telltale scents of alpha pheromones—tobacco and leather and spice. They were tall and, from what I could see of their profiles, young and handsome. My brain went foggy, my body drawn to them instinctually. But when they turned, it wasn’t to look at me.
A young omega walked by the other way, accompanied by some giggling beta friends and a huge bodyguard. The alphas all turned as one, nostrils flaring. As their steps slowed, I walked past them, leaving the tableau behind and letting out a long breath.
Feeling sorry for myself was a waste of time. It would get me nowhere. I pulled out my phone for a distraction. There were two messages from Eloise and Rhonda in our group text.
Eloise: Hope it went okay, Sylvie! Drinks?
Ronnie: I’m up for drinks! You ladies come here and then we’ll go out.
Thank god for friends. They knew how much these check-ins bothered me, even if the whole thing seemed really bizarre to them. I had work the next day and couldn’t be out late, but they’d get me tipsy and tell me the whole thing was bullshit. That was exactly what I needed to hear tonight. It was the definition of self-care.
Meet you at Ronnie’s.
2
SYLVIE
