Their Stubborn Omega

Ch. 1 Birthday Girl

~Noelle~

*Beep, Beep, Beep*

Groaning, I reach blindly for the offensive device screeching at me, demanding I wake up. When I finally grab my phone and silence the alarm, I heave out a dramatic sigh. Today's the day. My 21st birthday. I know, don't most people get excited about their 21st birthday? Well, that's the thing. I'm not exactly a human. I'm from the awful world of shifters, or at least we used to be. Now though, only our strongest alphas can shift, but those baser animal instincts, and unfortunately for me, distinctions are still there. What does that mean, you ask? It means that at 16, anyone with shifter genetics presents as an alpha, beta, or an omega.

If you present as an alpha or beta, your life doesn't really change. Alphas may take a pack leadership course or two and a few on how to manage your alpha instincts and urges, but mostly, your life remains on the path you choose. An omega, however? For those of us that present as an omega, everything changes. Our lives become ruled by our instincts, hormones, and emotions. We're forced to go to a school specifically for omegas from 16 to 21, where we learn how to be the perfect little omega. We learn the aspects of building a perfect nest and how to run a household. We don't learn anything in the way of having an actual career, because gods forbid an omega want to provide for herself and not depend on a pack for everything. Being the perfect little mate is shoved down our throats, along with heat suppressants and perfume blockers.

Most of my class, along with those ahead and behind us, were thrilled to present as an omega. They see it as a life of homemaking, being loved, cared for, and secure. I see our choices and options for life being stripped away. I see us being looked at as fucktoys, baby machines, and house elves. Most omegas don't even get to choose their pack. It's all biological for around 70% of omegas. Scent matched, fated mates, that's what is in store for most of us. Call it fate, or the gods, or whatever you like, it's still not a choice. If at 25, you still haven't met your fated mates, Omega Education Center gives you a questionnaire about your preferences, both sexual and in terms of expectations for mates, and needs, then matches you with 10 packs that fit your needs and wants. After the matching, you start the courting process. That's the closest version of a choice in the pack we have.

My skin feels tight as I try to take deep calming breaths, like my counselor showed me. My anxiety over ending up with an awful pack who mistreats me, views me as a possession, and isn't faithful started when I was 19. Sarah, one of the girls 3 years older than me at OEC, had become a close friend before she turned 21. On the second moon gathering after her 21st birthday, she found her scent matched mates. She was ecstatic. She came bounding into my room the next morning, gushing about them. They were handsome and wealthy, and she thought she'd be happy. For three months, she was.

For the first month, they courted her. She still lived at the OEC, and they lavished her with affection, dates, and courting gifts. She was floating on cloud nine, swearing she was living a real-life fairytale. She decided to stop the heat suppressants and move in with the pack at the start of the second month, knowing they would claim her during her heat. After her heat, she texted me euphorically raving about how fantastic it felt to be claimed.

Two weeks later though, she said everything started changing. They gave her a list of expectations, household chores, things along those lines, that hadn't been in place or discussed before. Since most were reasonable, that didn't bother her too much, so she kept quiet. After a few weeks of that, and her mates becoming more and more distant, she was cleaning the house when the pain hit. It sliced through her like someone was carving her abdomen out with a dull knife, she said. I knew, without her having to tell me, that her mates had been unfaithful. One, or more, of her mates were bedding another female at that moment and that was the pain she was feeling.

While humans may cheat on whims, it's rare for it to cross anyone in a mated pack's mind, even with chosen mates. Once the claiming mark has been placed, there's no denying the pull and urge to have that person be your everything. There's also no denying the irrefutable and horrific pain your mate or mates feel when you're unfaithful. To cheat on a fated mate is the equivalent of spitting on the gods. The ones responsible for cheating are removed from the OEC database and aren't allowed a second chance to find a mate if their fated one leaves due to their unfaithfulness.

So, Sarah came back to the OEC and petitioned the council of elders to have claiming marks undone. It was a long and painful process, but they granted it and banned the Rockford pack from attempting to find a second chosen mate. After recovering for several months, Sarah entered the process of choosing a mate through the OEC selection.

It's her story, and others like hers, that has plagued me with anxiety for the last 3 years. I've had regular appointments with the OEC counselors who assure me that it is a rare occurrence and that packs like that are then banned from taking chosen mates, but it doesn't ease my apprehension. That's like saying all sharks aren't going to eat you, but we'll put you in a tank with one and see if it does. To me, it's terrifying.

Regardless of my anxiety, reservations, and general disagreement with all things alpha-omega, today I'm 21 and it just happens to be a full moon, which means tonight is a moon gathering and I'll have to be in attendance. Each month on the night of the full moon, the OEC hosts a gathering that all unattached packs searching for their omega or chosen mates can come to as long as they aren't banned by the council of alphas. It's a night each month where omegas who have turned 21 since the previous month's moon gathering are presented to the packs first, then after an hour, the other unmated omegas join, hoping a new pack might have come.

I debate on showing up in sweats and a messy bun as a form of silent protest, you know, fuck the alpha-archy and all that. I know pictures are taken of all the new omegas every month, so I decide against it. I huff and reach for my phone and groan as I see the time. It's after 11:00 am and I'm supposed to be across the campus in five minutes to have my hair styled and nails done for the moon gathering. With a few muttered curses to the moon goddess herself, I jump out of bed, throw on the first pair of leggings and ratty sweatshirt I find, and sprint out of the door.