Page 65 of Not Ready

Omegas not born into family packs are often the most vulnerable of their designation. If they aren’t born to wealthy parents, they often have no choice but to forgo security, putting them at risk in a big way.

The government bounced around the idea of having a nationally run program where the security would be provided to the omega at no cost. The bottom line of who would pay for such security services became a terrifying debate, with some believing the charges should accrue to be paid off by the omega’s future pack.

That snowballed into a discussion about how middle-class packs would afford to pay off the thousands of dollars of security costs that accumulated prior to ever meeting their omega.

It’s a slippery slope, considering an omega would have to search for a pack able to take on those financial burdens. Add in the fact that she’s an omega without health insurance, and it’s very clear how little our government cares about protecting its weakest citizens.

Sure, they can receive free health care at the Omega Protection Authority, but we all know how corrupt the OPA is.

In most cases, the locations push for bonding. Find an omega a pack of their own, and the government no longer has to foot the bill for their health care or provide them with a place to ride out their heat.

Not that things are much better in my home country, but the United States is much larger. There are more opportunities for omegas to get lost in the system or to purposely avoid it, fearing the possibility of being pushed into bonding.

“Well, this is boring,” Vale says, drawing me out of my thoughts. She picks at a nonexistent speck of something on her nightie. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me and you can’t bail because Holt already did.”

“Are you joking?” I head over, taking a seat next to her on the mattress. “I’m looking forward to spending more one-on-one time with you.” The plan was never set in stone for us to spend the night, but Dr. Garza did recommend it if the trip ended up being a bit too taxing on her. We each brought a small overnight bag, and in mine, I just might have the makings to save this evening. “Do you like games? I’m fairly sure I have Travel Scrabble, several card games, and possibly Battleship.”

“Battleship, really?” Her face breaks out into a breathtaking smile that makes my chest feel tight.

“Indeed. If you dare?”

“Exactly how cutthroat do these board games usually get?” She laughs, patting my thigh.

I have been known to be ridiculously competitive, but I could take a loss or two if the little omega continues gracing me with that particular look.

“If you’re too intimidated by the prospects, then we could always settle in and watch a movie,” I offer with a shrug.

She bites her thick lower lip and finally nods her agreement.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Vale

Mercer isn’t bad company. If anything, I’m especially grateful to have him around. My heart aches every time I think of Bishop. Physically, I know he’s okay, and that keeps me from completely losing my mind.

Considering the physical distance between us, the bond doesn’t tell me much. It’s just enough to reassure me that he’s alive. Which is really overdramatic, but my impulses don’t care.

He’s my bonded alpha.

We should be together right now.

Most newly bonded alphas and omegas spend several days in their nest, lavishing attention on one another, snuggling, and having really good sex. At least, that’s what the internet search said when I did a quick check to see if that’s why I’m feeling so out of sorts.

“Vale?” Mercer asks. “I asked if D4 is a hit?”

“Mercer, you’re a cheater. There’s no other way you’re so good at this game.”

He chuckles. “I wish you’d call me Mercy. It seems so much less formal.”

I laugh. “And not nearly as bad as Carrigan, right?”

“Mmm, you’re brave.” He stretches out a hand to tickle my side.

I shamelessly slap it away and close my game board without putting all the pieces away. “I’ll try to remember to call you Mercy.”

“Someone is ticklish.” A wicked grin crosses his face, making his dimples pop.

Holy hell.

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