Page 61 of Into the Fire: After
Definitely wasn’t already planning to order a second one.
Jennie, bestie, forgive me.
“I’d actually consider going camping if we got to bring these along,” I said as I took a slow, delectable draw from my heaven in an oversized mason jar.
Sheyna grimaced, the bridge of her nose crinkling behind her round gold-rimmed glasses. “Nah, that’s whereze critterslive and I’m not about that noise. It would take more than a bit of chocolate to get me out of the city.”
I giggled, and Sheyna stole one of my graham crackers to take a bite.
Another moment that felt so close to normal, yet so dissonant. Sheyna used to be a frequent customer at Bean & Leaf. Double espresso, double shot of vanilla, milk and whip. When she hadn’t been rushing out the door, or if the place was slow, she’d hang around and chat. Sheyna was the one who’d told me about the protest I’d attended outside The Corinthian soon after getting to town.
Oh, and she was a fellow omega.
Granted, we weren’t unicorns or anything. But when omegas met each other in the wild, so to speak, we tended to herd together.
Mythical, we weren’t. But rare, we were.
We’d run into each other again a few weeks ago. I’d been on my first solo bus ride, jumpy as shit, contemplating calling one of my pack to come sit with me and feeling like a pathetic loser for it too.
Then Sheyna had hopped on. Turned out, I was on her work route.
Since then, we’d had a few coffee and lunch catch-ups. Anytime she asked why I’d left Bean & Leaf, I hedged. A healthissue cropped up during my last heat and I was taking time off to recover. Which, technically speaking, wasn’t a lie.
If only I could tell that to my squirming tummy whenever it protested the cover story we’d all agreed to.
I shrugged and dipped my rescued graham cracker into my Very Mature Alcohol Drink. “There are a great many things I’d do for chocolate.”
So I’d bemoaned to myself during my stay at Phoenix Labs, and so I stood by to this day.
Sheyna rolled her eyes and brushed a strand of copper hair over her shoulder before crossing her arms and hitting me with an assessing squint.
“…Do I have caramel on my nose?”
“No,” she answered simply. A beat later, she leaned forward onto her elbow. “But,” she said, her voice conspiratorial, “I have a question for you.”
“The answer is yes,” I said in mock-shameful tone. “In a desperate-enough situation, I would lick chocolate off a stranger's shoe.”
“You absolutely would not.”
Shows what you know.
“Anyway, I have aseriousquestion.”
“Oh, okay, then.” I sat up straighter. “Serious face.”
Sheyna chuckled with a small shake of her head. Then she leaned closer, spoke softer. “So…you were unregistered for a while, right?”
Chills sprinted up my spine. “Why?”
She leaned in closer, lowering her voice so I struggled to hear it over the pumping grunge music. “Because I know an omega who needs blockers and suppressants. It’s not safe for him to Register.”
A lead weight dropped in my stomach. Male omegas were the rarest designation of all. Males also tended to present later, soa twenty-year-old guy could go to sleep as a beta, then wake up with a brand new scent and a craving for knots.
And, like female omegas, were often marginalized within their own communities. A male omega wanting to stay under the radar—and off the Census—was almost a no-brainer.
That goddamn Census. I had a very particular, very intense hatred for the stupid Census. It was an insult to omegas to begin with, requiring one designation and not the others to Register their presentation to the government. But all our pack’s troubles had begun with my forced Registration earlier this year.
Sheyna gave a surreptitious glance around to ensure no one was within earshot. “I was pretty sure you were, at least when you first moved here, yeah?”
