The strangest wave of sadness came over her. “If it’s true, Jules won’t ever be able to come home.”
The man had already begun merging with the shadows, yet he hesitated for a simple moment. And that was confirmation enough.
10
Her husband was a total bastard.
Every feather had been picked from the floor by hand, collected in a bin to be repurposed. Claire’s morning spent on her hands and knees chasing fluff as it shifted around the room each time she moved.
At midday, Dr. Osin invaded—as the psychiatrist did any time Claire attempted to miss a session—and she found the Omega still plucking feathers, one at a time, from the carpet.
“You were to meet with me at two.” Ever the Alpha, the no-nonsense statement fell without sympathy for the mess.
Wiping her hair from her sweaty forehead, Claire sat back on her heels and let out a breath. Unsure if she was more annoyed by the task at hand or the interruption, she cut a glare over her shoulder. “Yeah, well, Shepherd decided to be Shepherd.”
Still standing on the threshold of the room, Dr. Osin sniffed the air. “It smells as if you recently mated.”
“He calls it making love.” Sarcasm thick, Claire reached for another feather. “Making love as he destroys my nests and disregards my feelings.”
“The only thing Shepherd regards is your feelings. Therefore, one might assume your assumption is incorrect.”
Tossing her hair and turning back to her work, Claire gave the Alpha her back. “I am not in the mood for your Shepherd ass-kissing propaganda today. Either help me clean up this mess or leave.”
“I have brought lunch. Your mess can wait until after you have eaten. Shepherd informed me that you had forgotten. He also informed me your breakfast was cut short.”
Of course he was checking in on her, the man couldn’t seem to go a day without stalking his wife in every possible way. “Cut short is one way to phrase it. Or one might say I made a reasonable request, was manhandled, tossed into my nest, and fucked so hard I’m sore. Then in a show of complete insanity, he tore my favorite pillow in half and scattered feathers that I now have the honor of cleaning up.”
Unmoved by the agitation of the Omega, Dr. Osin said, “We were discussing your eating habits. We’ll save your sex life for another session.”
Three more feathers gathered, Claire brushed off the old woman’s usual abruptness. “I didn’t forget lunch. I prefer not to eat when I’m anxious.”
As if anything Dr. Osin might offer could possibly tempt her, the Follower said, “I brought a popular local dish from the Dome’s best Omega restaurant.”
Picking another feather from the rug, Claire swiveled to her hip, staring down the intruder again as she spun the feather between her thumb and fingers. “Greth has Omega restaurants?”
Unabashedly observing the state of her charge, the old woman nodded. “Omegas are plentiful in this Dome and catered to. Spoiled. My mate would have swanned around and smirked at me quite a bit had he seen the life here. You’d know that if you ever went outside these grounds.”
The dig wasn’t missed, but it also wasn’t effective.
Even if she were willing to venture into the city, Claire would not step anywhere near a public Omega space. The very idea was ludicrous. Alphas would lurk. Omegas would be harassed, stalked home, cornered, taken. Heaven only knew how Shepherd would react if someone so much as whistled in her general direction.
Furthermore, there was a reason Omegas didn’t have public places. There was a reason that being Omega meant to either adapt to the Beta population or avoid Alphas unless one desired a pair-bond. Even mated Omegas kept their heads down if they were smart. They shopped for groceries in the daylight, most likely with a family escort. They didn’t tour the promenade alone or sip coffee in the breeze.
Not unless they lived as Claire had lived. Not unless no one knew they were Omega.
“What are you thinking, Claire?”
Pressing up from the ground, she brushed a few straggling feathers from her skirt. “I’m thinking it sounds too good to be true. Therefore, it’s a ploy. Wise Omegas only congregate in private, in secret. It’s sacred. I don’t believe there is such a thing as an Omega restaurant unless it’s managed by Alphas trying to lure in easy prey.”
“If you’d bothered to read the chapters I prepared for you on the local population, Mrs. O’Donnell, then you would know that there are more Omegas per capita than Alphas in Greth. They outnumber their matching dynamic. Competition for mates is fierce. Omegas walk freely, dress provocatively—”
“Enough.” Claire put up her hands to end the madness. “I don’t have any interest in discussing this topic. Grethentine Omegas can do what they want, but I am Thólosen, and we don’t speak about our dynamic with Alphas.”