Page 1 of Small Town Shy Omega
1
Layla
Isettled under my blanket, a spring shower falling outside my window. It was cozy in my nest, very safe and snug. My homemade apple blossom-scented candle flickered sporadically, painting shadows on the wall. Outside my cottage, rain fell and clouds gathered. The weather station said the shower would last all afternoon, but here I was safe.
I loved my nest, I thought as my big paperback spilled out across my lap. I flipped through the pages lazily, a relaxed sigh escaping me.
I turned twenty-seven last week, and I was content being single. I was content being almost thirty, not having a pack to serve.
The few packs I had dated hadn’t really respected me, and in my cottage? I worried about nothing.
These Alphas were so much better, I thought greedily, reading my thirtieth novel of the week. It wasn’t even my heat yet, but I couldn’t stop turning the pages.
The light notes of Thalia’s latest single wafted through my nook, and I sighed, sipping my hot raspberry tea and eating sherbet cookies. I was a good baker, though I seldom baked for others. Why bake for the friends I didn’t have?
Even before I presented as Omega, I was a shyer girl. If I grew to be an old, single Omega with multiple cats, I was okay with that.
“I’ve made my peace,” I said as my blankets surrounded me. Ameowsounded out, and I laughed as I lazily reached down, petting my cat, Whiskers. Whiskers often read books with me in my nest, and when she behaved I fed her bites of my cookies.Warm fuzz pressed against my face as she wriggled beside my pillow. When was the last time I’d felt so cozy? “I don’t need Alphas, and besides, they scare me.”
The Alphas in my pastel-covered romance novels brought me joy. They never sparked fear in my heart.
I had a sensitive heart, one that was tender and shy, and needed to be protected. Protected there in my nest, where the only thing I feared was if my sherbet cookie stash ran low.
Me, my books, my nest, and the coziest, snuggliest blankets on the planet. And my homemade candles, of course.
The vases, bowls, and mugs I handcrafted in my glassworks studio brought me great joy, though I doubted I’d ever make serious money from my art. So why try? My small annual income I received from my grandfather’s estate sustained me, and I didn’t want for more.
I had everything I needed: a little bank account, a cozy cottage, and shelter from the rain.
I saw a squirrel outside, darting through the spring showers as it sought to find dry ground. “Poor baby,” I whispered, my fingertips ghosting against the windowpane. I wished to help that squirrel, but there was nothing I could do in my nest.
My candle flickered down, and I spent all my afternoon buried in the book. Soothing indie music reached my ears, and I made a note to buy my tickets to Thalia’s latest concert. She was like a local Taylor Swift, though obviously not as talented.
My eyelids grew heavy, and a blanket of rest draped over my shoulders. I snuggled against a pillow, and soon I was snoring.
Dreaming of the book I had just finished, the handsome Alphas who were so gentlemanly and refined.
They had tact, sensibility, and they weren’t growly or feral, like the Alphas I typically met in real life.
One was shyer, and he had a soft spot for poetry.
If only I met an Alpha like that, I thought as the ferryboat of sleep took me to dreamland, I’d happily open my nest, spread my blankets for him.
Only a kind, sensitive Alpha like that could ever be my mate.
My candle burned softly,flickering to the wick.
I lived in Applewood Falls,the quaintest Omega-friendly small town in the Midwest. Applewood Falls was known for its cozy farmers’ market, beautiful cobblestone paths, and the May blossom festival. I liked going to the festival, pink blossoms swirling through the air. Our skies were often a washed-out blue, and Applewood Falls always smelled like earth after a rainstorm.
We received lots of rain, and for as long as I could remember, I loved stormy weather. As a girl, my grandfather would often take me to a hill on his farm, and lightning would flash overhead. I harbored a romantic love for storms, and I was never happier than when I was twirling through a terrible tempest.
My favorite activities were reading, admiring songbirds, and blowing glass. I was the only glass artist in Applewood Falls, and though I only created my wares in a tiny shed on my property,my works were praised around town. Mrs. Lane of the City Council purchased two of my vases, and my friend Bronwyn commissioned a custom urn for her funeral parlor. Pride filled me whenever I laid eyes on my glassworks in public, and I knew part of my soul resided in the glass.
I enjoyed walking down Applewood Falls’ cobblestone streets, always with my parasol in case of a chance shower. My cottage, with its dozen acres, sat a mile from town, and so getting to town required quite a walk. Sometimes I’d return home utterly tired, collapsing in my garden and not even making it to my nest.
My nest, like all Omegas, was my pride and joy, and burrowing under my collected blankets brought me great peace. In my nest, the rainstorms of life did not faze me. I was at peace, and while deep in restful sleep, I remained free.
But lately…
