Dionne
'Get up, Dionne,' my wolf whimpered in the back of my mind, her voice sounding as fractured as I felt. 'You need to get out of this room before she comes."
I groaned as the agony started as a dull ache in my lower back before spreading like wildfire through every nerve ending. My skin felt too hot, too sensitive, as if even the air itself was poisonous.
Every cycle, the outcome was the same. While other Omegas spoke of their heats as a time of softness and nesting, mine felt like a divine punishment. It came quarterly rather than the typical six-month cycle, and each time it grew more intense. It felt less like a natural biological process and more like my body was actively trying to destroy itself from the inside out.
I lay curled on the cold linoleum of the servants' quarters, my knees pressed to my chest. The thin blanket I'd wrapped myself in was soaked through with sweat. A spasm twisted my gut, dragging a ragged gasp from my throat.
The door flew open without warning. I jerked upright instinctively, but the sudden movement sent a fresh spike of pain through my abdomen that left me gasping.
Matron Shaw, the warden of the omega wing, filled the doorway. She was a mountain of a woman, smelling of starch and sweat. She looked down at me as if I were a stain on her pristine floor.
"Still on the ground?" Her voice was like gravel grinding under a boot. "Pathetic. Do you think the Pack pays you to lie about and moan while the rest of us work?"
"Matron," I managed to say, my voice hoarse. "The suppressants I took yesterday barely worked. I don't think—"
She crossed the room in three quick strides. Before I could react, she grabbed my chin roughly, forcing me to look up at her. "You think I care about your comfort? I don't care if you're dying, Dionne. Alpha Thorne is hosting the Solstice Gala, a once in a lifetime opportunity. The entire Northern Alliance is here. We are short-staffed, and I will not have a runt hiding away in the dark."
"I can't," I begged, shaking my head. "My scent... it's too strong. I'll disturb the guests."
She reached down, gripping a handful of my hair, and yanked my head back until my neck strained. Tears pricked my eyes, hot and stinging.
"You have fifteen minutes. Scrub that scent off you and get into your uniform. If you aren't at the service entrance in fifteen, I'll have the guards drag you to the kennels and you can sleep with the hounds. Am I clear?"
I nodded frantically, the movement sending spikes of pain through my skull. She released me with a shove.
"Here." She flicked a small glass vial onto the floor. It rolled to a stop near my hand. "Inhibitors. Double dose. It should numb you enough to be useful."
She turned on her heel, leaving the door wide open to the harsh hallway light. I stared at the vial. We all knew the infirmary issued expired batches to the servants. They were barely effective for a normal heat, let alone a defective one like mine. But I had no choice. I uncorked the vial and downed the bitter, metallic liquid, praying to the Moon Goddess for mercy.
I stumbled to the washing area. The cold shower I took did little to clear my head. Afterwards, I pulled my curly hair into a tight bun, ignoring how my scalp protested. The plain gray uniform hung loose on my frame. The inhibitors dulled the sharpest edges of the pain, but the fever still simmered just beneath my skin, waiting.
Before leaving, I checked that my bracelet was secure on my wrist. It was a simple copper thing, with a small green stone set in the center. The orphanage matron who raised me said it was pinned to my blanket when I was abandoned as an infant. My name had been written on a scrap of paper tucked inside. It was the only connection I had to whatever family had left me behind.
The great hall was chaos when I arrived. Servers rushed in every direction while pack members and guests in formal attire filled the space. The air was thick with competing scents, perfume, alcohol, roasted meat, and the underlying musk of dozens of powerful Alphas in close quarters.
I tried to weave through the crowd unnoticed, but a knot of servers huddled near the swinging kitchen doors blocked my path. I recognized Jace and Mara, two betas who usually worked the floor, whispering furiously while they filled champagne glasses.
"Did you see the guards outside the East Turret?" Jace hissed, his eyes wide. "I'm telling you, they aren't normal pack warriors. They're massive!"
"I heard he didn't even greet Alpha Thorne," Mara replied, keeping her voice low but frantic. "Just walked straight through the lobby like he owned the place. They say the Northern Alliance eats packs like ours for breakfast. I even hear, that the Lycan King himself is here tonight." Her voice dipped even lower on her last sentence.
The Lycan King? The one popularly known as the Mad King, due to his viciousness? He never left his Kingdom, what could we have done to garner his attention?
"The Lycan King can't be here." Jace said, shaking his head. "His Kingdom is basically paradise. You think he would leave it to visit this shithole for any reason?"
Curiosity momentarily dulled the ache in my bones. I took a hesitant step closer, straining to hear.
Jace stopped mid-sentence, his nose twitching. He turned, his expression curdling as he spotted me. "Ugh. What is that smell?"
Mara looked over, her lip curling in a sneer. "Oh, look. It's the fucking runt. I thought they locked you away during your... issues."
"I just need to get through," I whispered, clutching my stomach.
"Not this way, you don't," Jace snapped. He stepped into my personal space, looming over me. "You reek Dionne. Why the fuck are you out here? Do you want the guests to vomit?"
"Please, I—"
"Get lost," Mara spat. She shoved me hard.
My legs, already weak from the suppressants, buckled. I stumbled back, nearly crashing into a table of hors d'oeuvres, scrambling to regain my balance before I caused a scene.
"Dionne."
Matron Shaw's voice cut through the noise, instantly silencing the betas. Jace and Mara scattered like roaches exposed to light, leaving me standing alone, trembling.
She appeared beside me with a silver tray holding a bottle of expensive whiskey and a crystal glass.
"Take this tray to the top floor. The East Turret. The VIP guest requires a nightcap."
My stomach dropped. "The East Turret? But that's restricted—"
"Don't argue with me, Dionne. Trust me, you are not my preferred choice for this assignment. The other servers are all occupied, so you'll go. You'll deliver the tray and you'll leave immediately without speaking." Her fingers dug into my shoulder hard enough to bruise.
"If you embarrass this Pack, Dionne, I will personally ensure you are exiled to the Waste. Now go."
Being cast out as a rogue was essentially a death sentence for an omega with no survival skills. I nodded mutely.
The elevator ride to the third floor felt like an eternity as my nerves stretched tighter with each passing second. I half expected to be stopped by the mountainous guards Jace had mentioned, but they were nowhere to be found, confirming that their whole conversation had just been gossip
My vision swam and I swayed lightly, those damn suppressants were starting to wear off, and I could only hope they lasted me at least one more hour to get through my other chores. I found the suite at the end of the corridor and knocked quietly.
No response.
I waited, counted my breaths then knocked again, slightly louder. Still nothing. My hand found the handle and to my surprise, it turned easily. The door was unlocked.
The room was not completely dark, but it was close. Heavy curtains covered the windows, though pale moonlight filtered through small gaps where the fabric did not quite meet. My vision swam once again and I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaky hands. The door closed behind me with a final click.
"Hello?" My voice came out as barely a whisper. "Room service."
Nothing.
I took a careful step forward, holding the tray with both hands, trying to remember the typical layout of the guest suites. There should be a table just to the right of the entrance where I could leave the tray and flee.
Then the scent hit me.
It was singular and devastating. It smelled like ambrosia, with an undertone of something metallic like blood, intoxicating in a way that bypassed every rational thought and slammed directly into the heat simmering beneath my skin.
But rather than repelling me, the combination drew me in with inexorable force. It bypassed every rational thought and slammed directly into the heat that had been simmering under my skin all evening.
My hands went numb. The tray tilted, and I heard the bottle and glass crash to the floor.
A low growl came from somewhere to my left. Deep and resonant, it vibrated through the floorboards and into my bones.
I gasped, backing away, but my legs refused to work.
Heavy footsteps crossed the room toward me. The scent intensified as he approached, wrapping around me like a physical presence. Fear and inexplicable pull warred within me. Every survival instinct I possessed screamed at me to run, but my wolf pressed forward eagerly, desperate to close the distance between us.
A large hand, scorching hot closed around my wrist. The touch sent electricity racing up my arm. I was pulled forward, and then there was a solid chest against mine, and that scent was everywhere, drowning me.
I felt him inhale deeply against my neck, drawing in my scent as I had drawn in his. My wolf immediately submitted to him in a way she had never submitted to anyone.
I tried desperately to focus on his features through the haze, but when I attempted to hold these details in my mind, my vision swam. The features seemed to blur and slip away before I could fix them in memory. It was like trying to grasp water, the image dissolving even as I reached for it.
"Mine," a deep voice rumbled, vibrating through my very bones. The timbre was distinctive.
I didn't know his face. Didn't know his name. I knew nothing beyond the fact that my body had decided he was what it needed, and nothing I could do would change that.
The room disappeared. Matron Shaw's threats, the broken glass on the floor, my own name, all of it dissolved into nothing but sensation and need.
It happened so fast that in my daze, I could barely process it. My clothes fell apart, his hands found my skin in the darkness, calloused fingers trailing fire wherever they touched.
I gasped at the contact, my body arching toward him of its own accord. I felt the rough scratch of his stubble against my neck as he inhaled deeply again, a low growl rumbling through his chest that my wolf answered with a desperate whine.
When he moved, I moved with him, our bodies finding a rhythm that felt familiar despite this being my first time.
My legs were spread apart and I nearly passed out when I felt his tongue press against my core. Everything felt so good. Too good.
Even as my consciousness began to fragment, the slick slide of skin on skin, the wet, slapping, slopping sounds that should have embarrassed me but only drove the need higher, the way his breath came faster against my ear—these were the only things that existed in the universe.
The heat that had been torturing me for hours finally found its release in wave after wave of pleasure that left me boneless and trembling.
-----
Three Weeks Later
"She probably threw herself at him, hoping to snag a Mate."
"As if a high-ranking guest would mate with a runt. He probably used her and tossed her aside like the trash she is."
The voices drifted from across the laundry room where three other omegas were working. I kept my hands submerged in the soapy water, scrubbing at a stubborn stain.
Three weeks of this. Three weeks of rumors about that night spreading like disease through the servant quarters.
I was not a whore. I had never been with anyone before that night. But I couldn't explain the haze, the loss of control. How quickly everything had happened that night.
"Hey, Dionne! You missed a spot. Or are you too busy dreaming about your mystery lover?"
Laughter echoed off the tile walls. I ignored them, but the room suddenly tilted. The heat from the dryers became suffocating. The smell of bleach twisted my stomach into knots. Black spots danced in my vision. My hands went numb.
The floor rushed up to meet me, and everything faded to silence.
A steady beeping pulled me back, harsh fluorescent lights made me wince when I opened my eyes. The sterile white ceiling of the infirmary came into focus.
"Easy now." I turned my head to the side, Callum sat beside the bed in his patrol uniform, his blonde hair disheveled. He held a cup of water to my lips. "You took a hard fall. You've been out for three hours."
Callum was the only person in the pack who treated me like a human being. We weren't close, he was one of the junior patrol guards, and I was a servant, but he often slipped me extra food or walked me back to the dorms when the patrols got rowdy.
"I should go," I said, moving to get up "Matron Shaw will be furious—"
"Dionne, stop." His voice froze me in place. "You need to stay here."
Something in his tone made my chest tighten. He was not looking at me, his gaze fixed on his clasped hands.
"What's going on?" Cold dread pooled in my stomach. "Am I fired?"
He finally looked up. His brown eyes were filled with profound sadness. "The healer ran a blood test when they brought you in." He paused, his eyes dropping briefly to my stomach. "Your hormone levels are elevated. Significantly."
The heart monitor's beeping grew louder in the silence.
"Wha- What does that mean?" I asked,
Callum leaned forward, lowering his voice. "You're pregnant."