The drive to the ABO was quick, but it seemed agonizingly long to Cait.
The experience of being in a surface vehicle was weird, it was slow and the inertia felt wrong.
It made her feel sicker.
She had never been in the presence of the other two classes of people before.
An omega and an Alpha.
Why did her first experience have to be this?
Cait looked at the back of their heads, grateful that the two scions were looking ahead.
The man who had found her was Kieran Rose, not only was the second highest in command in the branch, he was the Traverse Lords son.
Then there was the elusive Owen Thorne.
The Thorne family was of equal standing when it came to fortune.
She would know, being an account.
Owen Thorne never appeared in any domes.
It was news when it was confirmed that he was moving to Geneva.
She wondered where he was from, his accent was thrilling and sounded deep and rumbly.
Kieran’s accent sounded just like the monarch.
Everyone had heard his voice over the holos or announcements.
She had never met anyone from Sector 1, or any of their ‘kind’ before.
Her vision shifted from Kieran who was driving quickly, to Owen Thorne.
They looked polished, perfect.
She looked at herself in the reflection of the glass.
Rough golden skin, sunken features, dull hair, yellowed eye whites, and her stature.
She was small, it seemed impossible.
‘I cannot believe I am one of them.
How?
Did my mom cheat?
Is that why?’ Cait thought.
Cait’s legs spasmed again, causing her foot to rapidly kick the door.
She hissed in pain as her toe rapidly knocked into the metal.
“Hey, we will be there soon.” Kieran called out to her his brows furrowing with pity.
“Gods, that’s awful.” he whispered under his breath to Owen.
Owen turned to look back.
The tremor in her muscles was visible.
He had felt reluctant to help, but seeing her suffer like this, he could see why Kieran had risked the chance of losing their compatibility.
The chances were low someone so weak could usurp Kieran.
But it was brave considering Kieran’s unique requirements.
Owen looked at Kieran, somewhat apologetically.
The cabin flooded with his scent, her legs stopped kicking.
It seemed like her body was comforted by him.
Her cheeks actually flushed with a heavy blush.
Cait caught the scent and realised there was a truth to what Kieran was telling her in the elevator.
Her body relaxed as the flowery honey scent made her muscles relax, and her to blush.
Today was the first time in her life that she encountered scent or pheromones.
Her nostrils flared as she inhaled mindfully.
“You doin’ okay back there?” Owen asked awkwardly.
He did not even know how he expected her to answer.
Was she sent by someone?
Would they send someone in such a bad state?
Her head lolled to the side as they ended up on a circular road, dozens of vehicles exited as they waited their turn, she watched in rapt fascination as the outside scenery passed by.
This would be fun any other day.
“Mm.” she affirmed she was holding on.
She was going to need to be able to communicate with Owen, considering what they would probably have to do first.
She thought about what was going to happen to her.
She was most likely taking poison, it was not like the two of these guys would lie to her.
She was broke, had nothing to offer to them at all, she looked ugly in comparison to Kieran.
“Can you cool it on the pheromones, Owen. That is enough,” Kieran waved his hands.
Owen gave him an apologetic look, “Sorry, she seems to have quietened down because of them.” Owen said, rubbing his neck.
“It’s your funeral, you do not understand what releasing all of that did to me. I can’t imagine what she is going to be like.” Kieran said with an uncomfortable blush.
“If they can detox her of that old folk cure that is. She will probably require more effort to guide her out of estrus.” Kieran said.
He felt the bodily response to the burst of pheromones that he had released in the air, like a mating challenge.
They had the same effect on male Omegas as they did female Omegas.
He hated his boss so much at this moment.
He still had to get out of the vehicle in a few minutes.
“Here, give me your wrist.” Owen practically ordered.
It had been sometime since they had done an exchange.
They did not like to do it, the feeling of overlapping their wrists and the pulsing wetness was gross, he did not know how he was going to get through this.
But if he did not she would die, and she was too weak for some drunken lout.
“I’d rather not.” Kieran said.
He did not like being touched or the whole gross aspect of pheromonal exchange once he learned in his predevelopment what it was.
Gland to gland exchanges or worse.
“What will you do if I become scent bound to her?” Owen asked.
Kieran laughed, “What is the actual possibility of that? Many have tried. If her pheromones are more suitable than mine, then I will just have to find another partner. Master, could help me find someone.”
“She’ll love that,” Owen retorted, his head craning backwards to check their passenger.
He thought he would be doing this decades from now or when the right scent came along.
Underneath her scent was a chaotic sour floral scent.
He could not actually tell if he really liked it or not.
She was aware of what was going on around her, she had no idea what they were talking about.
Cait panted in the backseat.
She had never been around Omegas or Alphas.
embarrassed.
She was just soaked from the massive pop of fluid.
It felt like she had peed her pants.
It was humiliating.
Cait listened quietly.
This was the new world she was entering.
She was an omega and this was her ‘estrus’.
Her body was reacting, seemingly against her will.
It had changed to an embarrassing and burning want.
She shifted uncomfortably in her pants.
She wanted to tear them off.
She grew up in the Traverse, it was a large underground tunnel .
They were safe, cheaper than living above the surface, and for those in production where the lines had stops.
She had grown up in ten different sections of the Traverse as her parents did production jobs and needed to stay mobile.
The car pulled up to the building.
Cait looked at the vegetation outside her eyes, full of marvel.
There were trees, bigger than she had ever seen in her life, standing outside this section ABO building.
The leaves were strange looking like feathers of a chicken.
In the garden, flowers were expertly planted and cared for; bushes full of them stood as well.
She was surprised to see them in the bushes.
She thought they only grew on stems that grew from the ground.
The doors creaked open as the car pulled into an assigned space.
The vehicle shifted suddenly.
“I will be quick.” Kieran said as slid out of the driver’s seat and quickly opened the door.
Owen watched as he hurried into the building, most likely to explain the situation to the staff.
She groaned and shifted in the back seat.
“You alright, well as alright as you can be in this situation?”
“Ha, ha.” she laughed weakly.
“It’s not like I doubt you, but is there a reason why I am going to die from not getting laid by an Alpha?” Cait asked.
“We are dependent on each other, evolution was not kind to us so we need to exchange pheromones every month or so for our bodies’ endocrine system and regulate our hormones.” Owen answered repeating the same one he learned before he learned about sex.
“Oh?” Cait exclaimed, her burrows furrowed as she continued, “Why don’t Betas need to do this?” Cait asked.
“They just need to be around other people to live. Their bodies just do the process through the air.” Owen answered, he did not mention the caveats to the needs of the Beta.
Cait shifted again, hauling her body upwards with her legs.
The lush greenery and flowers of the dome were a feast for the eyes.
The colours were bright.
She honestly did not know if she was going to survive this.
Kieran’s words about poison kept echoing in her memory.
Owen cleared his throat, his mouth had dried out.
“You need help getting up?” Owen said as he turned his large frame in the seat.
The transport bobbed with his weight.
“No,” Cait grunted as she explained.
“I am just shifting to see out the window. I have never seen so many flowers before in person. I love them. My mother used to paint them on the walls of our apartment with chalk paint. Now they are in front of me. I just wish I could smell them before I die.”
“Oh?” Owen exclaimed, his throat stuck as his eyes watered.
He turned away from her quickly.
He was choked by emotion.
This was just the front garden of the ABO building.
He had noticed how light she was.
He suddenly felt awful about what Kieran had said about what he paid Betas.
They made everything possible, yet a majority lived in cheap housing underground.
They could not see everyday sights like these.
“You will be okay. You will probably be here for some time. But we will take care of the pressing issues. We’ll take care of you.”
“I cannot afford a place like this.” Cait said as her eyes watered.
“Don’t worry about that.” Owen said, almost curtly.
The guilt hit him harder.
“Hospitals aren’t supposed to cost anything for stuff like this.”
“I always assumed it cost money to see someone urgently.” Cait asked.
She licked her lips.”What is the other guy doing, your assistant?” she asked.
She was not great with names; however, he was doing her this big favor out of nowhere.
“Oh, Kieran? He’s not really an ‘assistant’. He’s like a brother who gets a pay cheque. You can’t walk, so he will come back with some people to accompany you inside the building. Your situation is not something that they see often.” Owen explained.
“The substance you took does not really do anything other than dull your drive; it is not effective for managing estrus symptoms. Once you detox,” he was interrupted by her.
“It did help somewhat. The fever is really hard to deal with,” Cait said as she lay in the back seat.
“It must be hard. Men are lucky; we do not have to deal with rut cycles as regularly as women do. Though we do rut as well.” Owen said.
He looked briefly at her in the mirror and her slumped body on the seat.
“What is a rut?” Cait asked; she supposed she would be learning more terms.
These guys brought her straight to the ABO, so it could not be a matter of taking advantage of her as a Beta Dominant, could it?
“A Rut or rutting is the need to engage in mating behavior to satisfy your biological needs and requirements, it is an exchange as well.” Owen said.
“You will learn more. Just focus on getting through the days.” Owen blushed and cleared his throat.
Kieran came outside with a wheelchair along with some health workers.
All male.
She already was adding up the bill in her head.
A fancy above ground hospital would run her two to three months of rent, a day.
“Here we are.” Owen said as he spotted the burst of activity from the door.
He hopped out and waited to open the door.
They were above the surface, blocks away from the strip.
He was beginning to have a hard time controlling his behaviour.
He could feel the primal self inside him wanting to take control.
He would need to hold back.
He could not imagine a drunk smelling her.
Four men in scrubs exited the ABO with Kieran as he made his way to his car in a hurry with a wheelchair.
Owen watched.
“You might feel overcome when they give you treatment, lose yourself and your senses. Don’t be afraid. If you can’t speak or communicate what you want, grab my wrist and I will stop.”
The door opened to the back of the vehicle.
The Omegas waved their hands.
“Damn, that is the strong..” Dr.
Jameson said.
He looked at the slender girl in the back seat.
So far, what Kieran had said had been true.
It was good that she was brought here.
If she had been living her life as a Beta in the tunnel, she would probably die if brought to a traverse hospital.
“Hello, Ms. Agneau. I am Doctor Jameson.You must be shocked? You look like one of them right now. But you are definitely one of us.” He said as he looked at the woman.
He knew she would be wary and untrusting of their kind.
He took out his business card and handed it to her to show he was legitimate.
Cait pinched the card weakly and nodded, “Hello?” she said.
“Mr. Rose said you have been taking some herbal medicine. We’ll test you and it. We will have to proceed with that while you are with your Alpha partner. Mr. Rose said that Mr. Thorne would be guiding you tonight.” Dr.
Jameson paused, “Are you sound of mind, thinking rationally?” he asked.
“Yes, I worked tonight. I know when and who, where and when it is. I see a few colours in my field of vision, but I know that they are not real. Good enough?” Cait asked.
“Good enough. You were at the hospital this morning. So I will check to see if we can get results so we don’t have to do a blood draw.” Dr.
Jameson checked her arms.
There was substantial scarring over her wrist gland.
He furrowed his brows.
“So, I want you to review these consent forms as best as you can and then place your thumb here to approve the treatment and the guidance. This is for legal purposes, considering the situation.” Dr.
Jameson pulled a pad with multiple tabs open on it.
“These are forms, one through five that handle your consent to treatments, allow us to view, notate, share, and store your medical and personal information. Page six is an Alpha contract, since he will be guiding you and you’re a female an agreement needs to be signed. Mr. Thorne. Your copies are here.” Dr.
Jameson said, guiding her through the formalities.
“Thumb here to consent and sign when you are finished.
“I’m going to move you.” The orderly’s voice cut through Cait’s haze, sharp as a scalpel.
Her knuckles whitened on the wheelchair’s armrests.
Every jolt over the hospital corridor’s seams sent fresh sweat trickling down her temples.
Four sets of footsteps echoed around her, two doctors flanking her chair, an ABO nurse pushing it, another carrying a tablet.
Their starched uniforms smelled faintly of antiseptic and something metallic.
Cait focused on the tablet thrust into her trembling hands.
Words blurred.
‘Consent for Emergency Detoxification.
Authorization for Biological Stabilization Procedures.’ Her thumb jerked against the biometric sensor.
‘Accept.
Accept.
Accept.’
Then: ‘Consensual Cohabitation Agreement: Designated Alpha ‘ Owen Thorne.’
Her breath hitched.
“Is this going to be done somewhere private?” The word rasped out, raw.
She remembered the wards at the hospital where her mother died.
Dr.
Jameson leaned in, the glasses on his nose reflecting the bright, sterile overhead lights.
“Private suites are located upstairs. They have fully shielded windows and are soundproofed.” His tone was clinical and detached.
Cait pressed her thumb down on the biometric sensor, which blinked green.
They rushed her through swinging doors into a cold, bright treatment bay.
Machines hummed around her, and Cait’s skin felt tight and feverish.
“I had scans done earlier at the Civilian Clinic too, if that’s useful,” she managed, her teeth chattering.
Dr.
Jameson scanned a tablet and nodded.
“The doctor you saw yesterday was suspicious, so he sent in a toxin and drug screening. Which is lucky for us.” he said, and continued.
“The laboratory confirmed the poisoning with artificial and organic compounds, including alkaloids, atropine, hyoscyamine, and scopolamine…Mr. Rose’s earlier assumption was unfortunately pretty spot on. This was a highly concentrated inhibitor made with Ophelia’s tears. It would have been lethal by December without intervention.”
Owen looked at Kieran, he had a nose like his father’s hounds.
He wondered sometimes what Martha had taught him in the half years of wilderness training she took him out on.
When he came back the first time, he was no longer as delicate.
He seemed harder.
When he put on a business suit he was a different person.
Dr.
Jameson tapped the screen, and a sleek machine whirred to life, synthesizing a vial of pale blue liquid.
“You’ll need an antidote, depending on the scans,and damage. Possibly more. Given your… escalating presentation, we are forced to proceed. Afterwards, you probably will fall very ill.” He paused, scrutinizing the sheen on her collarbones and the tremor in her thighs.
“We’ll relocate. Your primal override will likely be quite intense.”
‘Dead by December?’ Cait thought.
That was six months from now.
The supplies her dad sent lasted only half a year each time.
Tears threatened, but her eyes were already sore from crying.
Anger and hurt flooded her heart.
It had been so much to handle: the back-to-back appointments in the morning, Henry’s mood when she got home, him breaking up with her over her communicator on the train, and now learning that she had been lied to all her life.
Her father was either unintentionally trying to kill her or outright planning to.
He had said she would have to be here for at least a week.
Cait watched a bead of sweat fall from her chin onto her pants, instantly darkening the fabric.
At least according to the paperwork she had just thumbed through, Owen Thorne would pay for it.
After they were done would he just garnish her wages.
What would she do after this?
Would he fire her?
If so, she’d hire a lawyer.
“Understood,” she whispered.
The orderly gripped her chair again, and the wheels squeaked as they moved toward the elevators.
Owen cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the sterile quiet.
He didn’t look at Cait; instead, his gaze was fixed on Kieran, his ice-blue eyes unreadable.
“I will call you,” he stated, his voice clipped, “when I am no longer needed.” He turned sharply, his precise charcoal suit slicing through the harsh light as he strode down the corridor without looking back.
The dismissal stung more than the poison.
A nurse stepped into the space Owen had left behind.
Amon had dark hair and kind eyes, which held a remarkable depth of understanding.
He crouched beside her chair, bringing himself to her eye level.
His voice was soft and soothing.
“Miss Agneau? Before we get you settled upstairs, I need to perform a basal swab. It’s best to check the database for your father’s lineage. Identifying your clan is crucial.” He paused, holding up a sterile swab wrapped in clear plastic.
“This helps us tailor everything. Your nutrition, pheromone buffers if you cannot produce, and even the shielding protocols. You know how rare you are, being a girl Omega? You’re practically a princess.”
Cait flinched at the word “princess.” It felt alien and mocking against the backdrop of the damp underground and beta ration cards.
Yet Amon’s kindness was different than what she was used to.
She could vaguely sense what Kieran had told her, that they could identify each other by pheromones.
She could tell that she was more like Amon, who smelled of dates and mace.
Cait nodded weakly, exhaustion overriding her suspicion.
This must be why they needed her consent to share her information.
Her jaw ached as she forced it open.
The swab touched the sensitive tissue beneath her tongue, cool and impersonal.
A sharp, medicinal tang bloomed in her mouth.
She focused on Amon’s steady hand and the quiet hum of the synthesizer still echoing from the treatment bay.
The antidote was brewing.
The poison had a name: Ophelia’s Tears.
How poetic about a girl who had drown in her own insanity.
Her dad’s final, brutal gift.
Her throat tightened.
Princess?
More like discarded trash.
The synthesizer chimed softly.
Dr.
Jameson retrieved the vial of pale blue liquid, its luminescence stark against the sterile white.
“Elevator,” he commanded briskly.
The orderly spun Cait’s chair.
The ride to the fifth floor was swift, silent.
The doors slid open onto a corridor hushed and gleaming, smelling faintly of ozone and expensive polymers.
They rolled past closed, unmarked doors before stopping at one.
Jameson keyed it open.
Cait’s breath caught.
The suite was vast, dominated by a wide medical bed surrounded by discreet monitors.
It was bigger than the largest mattress you could purchase.
Early sunrise light streamed through large, shielded windows onto sleek furniture.
A small, crisp white hospital gown lay folded neatly beside plush towels and unopened toiletries on a side table.
It was larger, cleaner, infinitely more sterile than the cramped apartment she’d shared with Henry.
The sheer size of the space felt oppressive.
Owen stood near the window, his back rigid, silhouetted against the light.
He didn’t turn.
Dr.
Jameson approached Cait, a syringe filled with the blue antidote glinting.
“This will neutralize the inhibitor component,” he stated, his voice devoid of inflection.
“Within minutes, your suppressed primal biology will resurge. Aggressively. Fighting it will cause distress. Surrender is the most efficient path.”
“Okay,” she said from the chair.
Dr.
Jameson took out an alcohol wipe and disinfected it before injecting it.
This was so weird.
“Primal Cait.”
“Press the call button when you are done, Mr. Thorne.” Dr.
Jameson said as the needle pricked her arm.
She gasped.
A cool rush spread under her skin, blissful relief washing over the feverish ache.
For a few heartbeats, Cait sagged.
Then, fire erupted.
It scorched her veins, pooled low in her belly, a sudden, shocking wave of heat that stole her breath.
Jameson withdrew the syringe once full of concentrated antidote, nodded curtly at Owen, and exited without another word.
The door clicked shut.
Silence pressed in, thick with Cait’s ragged breathing.
“Huh, Huh, Huuu, Huh.” she wheezed.
The heat intensified, coiling tight, demanding.
Sweat plastered her clothes to her skin.
She tore at its buttons popping off of the navy blue shirt.
Her lace camisole was plastered to her upper body, coated in sweat.
A low growl rumbled in her chest.
Cait couldn’t bear the fabric, the confinement.
Owen finally turned.
His ice-blue eyes locked onto her, pupils dilating visibly.
His nostrils flared as he stripped nervously, shirking his belt and coat.
Cait’s body did what it did in the middle of the night when she was deep in fever.
Her hands stripped off her pants and went to the bathroom to shower.
Cold water was her friend.
She stumbled towards the adjoining bathroom, driven by instinct and the desperate need to cool herself.
Behind her, she heard the rustle of fabric – Owen stripping off his suit jacket, his movements swift, predatory.
The scent of Gardenia, thick and cloying now, flooded the room.
He followed her to the cold water already coursing over her body.
It was enchanting.
Her silver hair curled slightly in the water, the golden beta and slight waif frame made her look like a sprite.
Owen’s gaze raked over her.
Cait stood under the spray, thin rivulets tracing the stark lines of her ribs, the delicate curve of her waist flaring into surprisingly strong hips.
Her skin, flushed pink with heat and exertion, glistened under the water.
Her small breasts were taut, nipples hard and peaked against the chill, droplets catching on her thick silver lashes as she tilted her head back.
She looked fragile, breakable, yet vibrated with a feral, undeniable energy that tightened Owen’s gut.
His control frayed, the scent of her primal need was a physical assault on his senses.
He stepped into the shower fully clothed, his soaked white shirt clinging to the hard planes of his chest.
Water plastered his dark hair to his forehead.
His hands, large and possessive, slid over her slick skin – tracing the dip of her spine, skimming the swell of her hipbone.
One hand drifted lower, fingers slipping through the wet curls between her thighs.
He found the swollen nub of her clit, circling it with deliberate, testing pressure.
Cait gasped, arching into his touch, a low whine escaping her lips.
His other hand explored lower, fingers probing gently, finding her slick and impossibly ready.
He slid one finger inside, then a second, stretching her slowly, gauging her readiness.
Her inner muscles clenched around him, hot and urgent.
“Owen…” His name was a ragged plea.
“Don’t tease…”
Then the shift.
Cait’s mercury-silver eyes snapped open, blazing with pure, unadulterated command.
The hunted became the hunter.
With a strength that shocked him, fueled by a primal imperative, she shoved him hard against the slick tile wall.