Page 1 of Omega Shattered
Chapter 1
Defective
"You're here because you haven't had a heat cycle in the entire time you've been at the ORC," the beta nurse in front of me said. She set a tray of tubes and syringes on the table next to the gurney I was lying on. "Do you know why that might be?"
I shook my head. "I've only had one heat in my life." A shiver ran through me at that particular memory and I pushed it away.
The nurse frowned, swiping on her tablet. "You checked out as normal upon arrival, but your first . . . only, heat was when you were 20? That can't be right."
Staring at the stained ceiling panels, I focused on staying calm while she flipped through the file, searching for answers that didn't exist. My skin prickled in the cold air that I never got used to, even after eleven long months of being in the Omega Reassignment Center.
"Well, if you don't have a heat soon, you'll be marked as defective and sent on to the heat dens," she said dismissively, setting the tablet aside. "Let's get this bloodwork done."
An hour later, drained of seven vials of blood, poked, prodded, and scanned until I felt like a piece of produce, I pulled on my uniform once more and trudged out of the medical wing.
Thankfully, it was dinnertime, so I didn't need to return to classes. I fell silently into line with the other omegas and we filed into the dining room. Everyone shuffled quietly past the counter where bored looking betas handed each of us a plate of wilting lettuce, sad-looking tomatoes, and a single slice of chicken breast. Each omega received a vile-tasting protein drink, too, before sitting at one of the tables in the room.
There was no talking in the cafeteria. Beta guards prowled between the tables like always, watching for anyone who might cause trouble or try to skip the disgusting food. I snorted internally. The joke was on them. After our long days of classes, we were all starving, so nothing went to waste, even if it was long past the best-by date.
My mind wasn't on the food, anyway. I ate and drank mechanically, my mind spinning at the news the nurse had given me. An omega without a heat for a year was considered defective and I was just a month from that date. The thought of going into heat in a place like this, where they shipped omegas to the heat dens until their hormones calmed down, was horrifying. I felt my stomach clench at the thought.
I'd been planning my escape since the day I'd arrived at ORC. It was virtually impossible, but I'd spent the past several months scouting this place as best I could. I had a plan, but it wasn't a great one. Still, if they planned to ship me to the heat dens permanently in a month, a half-baked idea was better than nothing.
After the nightly shower, I crawled into bed and lay there listening to the breathing of the women around me. We were all here because we'd been rejected somehow. The Omega Reassignment Center was supposed to train us to be betteromegas before we were given to a second-rate pack. Apparently, all it took to be a wonderful omega to a bunch of alphas was to give great head, cook well, and be silent and obedient. Nothing about that life appealed to me.
Like most nights, I tossed and turned, too frustrated and depressed to actually sleep. I had to get out of here. There was no way I wanted to spend my life serving a bunch of nasty men, or worse, serving them on my back in the heat dens.
That's when it hit me. My way out was through the heat dens.
All I had to do was convince the staff that I was going into heat and they'd take me with the other omegas to the heat den. From there, I wasn't sure what I would do, but my spying had taught me that only two betas went with the omegas, no matter how many there were. I'd seen the omegas doubled over and whining in pain when their heat hit, so it was obvious why everyone thought two betas were more than enough.
The next morning, I moved through my classes with careful precision. The beta guards were always ready with their prods, zapping anyone who answered wrong or acted out. Getting through the day unscathed was my main goal, but my escape plan distracted me. When we were supposed to be practicing fellatio in Pleasing Your Alpha 102, I accidentally gagged on the massive dildo assigned to me.
The second I pulled off the dildo, choking and coughing, and a beta lunged at me, hitting his prod directly in the back of my neck and sending a jolt of electricity to my spine. It made me jerk upright before I slumped to the floor, blinking back tears.
"Get back to it, omega!" the teacher barked. "If you can't even manage a piece of silicon, how are your alphas ever going to want you?"
"Maybe I don't want them to want me," Sera muttered beside me.
I shot the other omega a warning look. The beta guard was still too close for comfort, but she just raised an eyebrow and lashed her tongue around the purple monstrosity in front of her with a bored look.
"New position!" the instructor called out. Harnesses dropped from the ceiling and I groaned silently.
The next fifteen minutes were spent hanging upside down, doing our best to suck the dildos to completion while fighting against the dizziness that threatened to take over. Apparently, this was a common position, where an alpha would hang his omega upside down while she serviced him. I mentally vowed to never let a man pick me up like this.
Finally, class was over, and it was on to Cooking for Your Alpha. The first few months here, I'd learned the basics: omelets, bread, pancakes, and such. It had been easy, since I'd made all of those for my family for years. Now we were on to far more complicated dishes. If you spent more than five months in the center, you had to learn to cook a filet mignon, souffles, and other complex recipes perfectly.
I loved cooking. I hated this cooking class. From the tense looks on everyone's faces as they peered at their savory mushroom souffles through the oven windows, I wasn't the only one.
Sera stood at the station next to mine, her arms crossed, eyes focused on the clock. A split second before the half hour was up, she carefully opened her oven and reached in to pull out the perfect souffle.
Acutely aware of the betas wandering around behind me, I followed suit, pulling my dish carefully from the oven and sliding it onto the counter. Inside the oven mitts, I crossed my fingers that it wouldn't fall before the instructor came by.
She started on the other side of the room and by the time she reached my station, the fluffy top of my dish had caved in. Thebeta woman in front of me scoffed. "This is pathetic. Would you serve this to your alpha? You better hope you're better in bed than you are in the kitchen or no pack will ever keep you!"
With a sweep of her hand, she knocked my souffle to the floor where the baking dish shattered, leaving fluffy bits of mushroom-laced eggs everywhere.
"Clean that up."
