Page 55 of Waiting for Fate
Mia helps me brainstorm. Picking apart my reluctance to approach Bea directly, while finding a way to balance the needs of my designation. The timer on her computer rings, signaling the end of our session.
“Orion, I am going to leave you with one final question. Are you afraid to pursue your connection to Bea because you have bonded with an omega in the past and feel it is unfair to others who haven’t gotten to experience bonded life? Or are you afraid of the possibility of repeating the devastation you felt when you lost Serenity?”
I swallow thickly, giving her a sharp nod as I head out the door. Is she right? Am I using the unfairness of Fate as an excuse to hide my actual fear of losing Bea the way I lost Ren?
Walking down the street, I veer into a local park. The August heat doesn’t feel as oppressive after living in California. Sweat still soaks my back, but it is comforting. The feeling of the sun shining down on my skin reminds me I’m here. I’m alive, capable of living the life I always dreamed of. I just have to be brave enough to reach out and claim it.
Reaching the other end of the park, I take a seat on a bench by a small pond and let my mind wander to the past. To memories of Ren. She was quiet chaos. A whirlwind hidden behind a polite smile and soft eyes. School valedictorian and a lauded dancer, everyone around her claimed she was the perfect omega.
No one ever suspected she was the mastermind behind our pranks. They never saw her spraying paint on an underpass in the dead of night. Nor did they get to witness her dumping bags of glitter covered balloons in the principal’s office during our senior year of high school.
That side of her, the one who reveled in light-hearted pranks and minor criminal activity, was just for me.
I miss her like crazy. The hole in my heart where her bond belongs will never heal. There will always be a jagged piece of my soul missing. But does having loved and lost once before mean I no longer deserve to love again?
Ren would smack me in the back of the head and call me an idiot for wondering if pursuing Bea would hurt her. My Ren would never want me to spend my life mourning her. Alone and barely getting by. She would want me to live. To surround myself in joy and love.
Ordering a ride to the label, I promise myself I’m going to try. I won’t be ready to bond Bea anytime soon, but that doesn’t mean I can’t take the time to get to know her.
My office line rings with an internal call. I answer, assuming it will be one of the marketing directors or band managers with a question about the projects I am involved in. Instead, it is Shiloh’s voice on the other end.
“Are you available to come up to my office?”
I quickly agree. This is the perfect excuse for going up to the third floor. With luck, I might run into Bea while I am there.
The manager’s office is dark and empty, earning a sigh of disappointment as I walk by. Shiloh’s office is bright, his door already open. I knock on the frame, alerting him to my presence. “Close the door behind you, please.”
Curious, I do as he asks before leaning against the side of the chair opposite him. I’ve spent too much time sitting today. I’m starting to feel restless.
“Harold Wells called me with a… unique request.”
Harry is one of the band managers at Soulbound’s West Coast branch. He’s a decent guy, if a little too focused on the amount his bands earn. “Oh?”
“Have you heard news of the recent anti-designation attack at a Los Angeles gallery promoting the broad spectrum of designations?”
I shake my head. Keeping up with what is happening around me is important, but I get highlights from independent news stations instead of following mainstream media. Most of them run anti-pack propaganda, making them faulty sources of information.
“They hit a popular gallery during their Saturday showing of a photography collection built to highlight on the gray areas between designations. Omegas who lean towards alpha tendencies, betas towards omegas, etc. One of the gallery curators was the bonded omega of the lead singer of Belemorph.”
Sucking in a sharp breath, my heart aches knowing what Dorian and his packmates are going through. I can’t imagine losing a mate to the intentional actions of another. Ren’s accident was just that—an accident. These anti-designation cultists choose the locations they attack with the intention of harming others.
“Harold wants to know if you could fly out for a few weeks to help their pack until they can arrange proper grief treatment for them.”
Well, shit. I run a hand through my bright blue hair, shoving it out of my face. I had planned on taking this time to get to know Bea better, but I can’t leave Dorian and his pack alone when they’re hurting. Depression will set in quickly, making each member of his pack a danger to themselves and each other. It isn’t unheard of for alphas who lose their mates to go feral or take their own lives. The depth of our grief when a bond is lost is immeasurable.
“Yeah. I’ll go. I’ll have to meet with the other marketing staff to pass off anything I can’t complete remotely.”
Shiloh nods, clicking around on his laptop. “I will send a memo to the entire team, and we will get you on a flight tomorrow evening. Thank you, Orion. I know this won’t be easy for you.”
Shrugging, I bury my hands in the pockets of my slacks. “I’ve been in similar shoes. If I can help, I will.”
The timeline leaves me with a long list of tasks to accomplish, but seeing the light on in the manager’s office, I push speaking to Bea to the top.
She’s at her desk, humming along to the soft music playing from her laptop. Her bubblegum pink top dips low enough to show a hint of the swell of her breasts without being unprofessional. The pale blue cardigan wrapped over her shoulder is covered in matching pink hearts. It’s far too big for her, falling around her body and hiding her gorgeous curves.
The long, dark curls of her hair are tied up in a messy bun at the top of her head, several strands falling loose around her face. I prefer when she leaves it down. The image of it wrapped around my fist while I pounded into her from behind has been the star behind every orgasm I’ve had for the past two months.
“Good afternoon.”
