Page 1 of Curvy Dirty Omega

CHAPTER 1

Lucy

More often than not, my days started with blood and murder.

You’d think I’d be used to it by now considering I was the daughter of a serial killer.

A serial killer who was also an omega.

But for some reason today started with rain as if hoping to give me a fresh start – washing away the tacky sensation left on my skin from the nightmares that always haunted me. It had been a day just like this when I’d been forced to say goodbye to that boy.

Looking up at the dark sky, it was strange to think most people didn’t feel the same way I did about rainy days. They always lamented the overcast sky and the lack of sunshine or warmth, but for me…

It evoked the same feeling as a cozy, safe nest with a cup of steaming tea and a good book as I occasionally looked up to see rain dripping down the glass – the soothing pitter-patter in the background.

Not that I’ve ever had a safe nest to snuggle in, but I imagined that it would look and feel a bit like that – an entire room dedicated to soft sounds and comfort with only the smells and sounds I chose to allow into the space.

Oranges. The rain always reminded me of oranges.

That subtle scent of citrus always lingered in the back of my mind, one I could never put to a name or face, but it was reminiscent me of the perfect sweet orange – tart and juicy, washing away the taste of everything else.

Except this powerful scent was tempered by something almost sweet, and for whatever reason, rainy days always brought the memory of that lingering scent to the forefront of my mind.

Haunting me.

Tipping my head back, I took a deep breath and let the cool water tickle my face and run down my neck. My exhale left a small cloud in the air and, for a moment, I allowed myself to wish for something I could never have.

All I needed was his name, because I’d never remember his face. I sighed, knowing it didn’t really matter, and trying not to be bothered I didn’t know his real name always put me in a bad mood.

Usually my memory was damn near photographic, but when it came to names and faces, I was a total mess.

Face blindness they called it.

If two people looked too similar, I couldn’t easily tell them apart. If they had a mustache and then shaved it off one day, I wouldn’t recognize them until they reminded me where I knew them from.

A hair color change? Totally new person.

But when it came to someone’s scent and voice, I could pick them out of a crowd full of millions of people. There was just something about the sound of their voice that stuck with me…the way the vibrations through the air tickled my skin.

And each scent was unique. My nose was better than most omegas – hell, even most alphas. Had to be, I supposed, when I had such a hard time recognizing someone if they suddenly weren’t wearing glasses anymore.

The only downside to my nose was that most people wore scent blockers in the city. It was considered the norm and polite in a place where so many people were pressed so closely together. Too many overlapping smells could make me sick, so I appreciated it, but some days I just wanted to be surrounded by the perfect mingling of scents.

Days like today.

“Lucy! You’re going to catch a cold, standing in the rain like this,” Frankie scolded, opening a massive umbrella the second she walked through the café doors to join me on the street. “Why didn’t you wait for me inside?”

The umbrella was now blocking the stormy sky, but I didn’t stop looking up, as if I could see through it – each shade of grey and white as clear as crystal in my mind. It was easy to remember the soft pattern they made, unlike the name of the boy who always filled my thoughts on days like these.

It had been a day just like this when we’d been forced to say goodbye.

Taking a deep breath, I let Frankie tsk at me over my wet hair as she tried to pat it dry. She was always taking care of me, and she was the only person allowed to. No other alpha had the privilege of getting this close to me.

What was the point?

I wasn’t considered conventionally attractive thanks to being way over the average height for omegas. Nothing about me was soft except maybe my curves, and even those were an illusion. Working out with Frankie five days a week made sure I was more than capable of doing my job.

Becoming a private detective wasn’t all that strange, but an omega detective who worked in the field instead of behind a desk? People hated it.

---