ΩMEGA

Chapter Twenty-Six (!)

(!) = smut

*** = flashback

Bridger

***

I hate being the angsty teenager of the group. Arron's friends already look down on me for not being as crude or boisterous as they are; for not laughing at their jokes or being the first to jump when they want to go off and do something stupid. When I try to keep Arron from running off to drink and do ridiculous, irresponsible shit with them, Arron gets pissed but if I go home without Arron, I'm still the bad guy. His friends think I'm stuck up and too nice to be a beta but really, I'm just following the lessons that I've been taught – the lessons that Arron was taught.

It seems as though, no matter how good I am, I can never win.

Even now, as I sit silently wallowing in my teen angst, I feel a sudden wave of pure loneliness. It happens more than I'd like to admit; when I'm with Arron, in his shadow; when I'm at home in my bed. I used to think that I was worthy of someone enjoying my company...that I was worthy of some type of company, but those silly beliefs have since been extinguished. I am only to serve Arron where he sees fit. In more ways than one, loneliness has become the company I always thought I deserved.

Arron laughs loudly as one of his friends says a probably dumb or tasteless joke. He throws his head back before leaning forward to give his friend a high five. I don't react, I don't even know what he said. I must have missed it. I miss a lot of things these guys say on purpose; as a way to save my soul, I guess. It's not like I don't try to fit in with this group. I did try, a long time ago when I desperately wanted everything Arron had. But they never liked me.

Too stuck up.

Too much of a bitch.

Too boring.

So I stopped trying. If I wasn't forced to be with Arron every waking second I would stop humiliating myself by hanging out with a group of guys who don't like or respect me. Arron says nothing to defend his future beta and I, of course, always try to defend myself but in the end, Arron gets angry with me for embarrassing him in front of his friends. So I just sit and stay quiet and make sure Arron doesn't do anything stupid. That's my job. That has always been my job.

Tonight, we sit in the woods near the human town. No packs own these lands. A fire burns in the center of the group and we all circle it on logs. Cans of beer litter the ground around us. I'm the only one not drinking. I hate the taste of beer, especially our werewolf beer. It's bitter and makes me sick easily. I tried it once when my father had fallen asleep and it kept me sick for days. I had to clean and care for myself as a rightful punishment while my father berated me over and over again about how much of a disappointment I was. I've never tried it since.They just think I'm a pussy, scared I'll get in trouble with my "daddy" for disobeying not only the human laws, but werewolf ones too. 

"Man, so who do y'all want your mate to be?!" Arron's friend yells. He doesn't need to yell. I silently survey the area for unwanted guests. We haven't had any rogue sightings but that doesn't mean there still aren't any around. His friends leans against the other guy, a drunken smile on his freckled, red face.

They immediately start talking over each other. They describe the perfect body and behavior of their preferred mate. Big breasts; big ass; small frame; quiet; submissive; obedient; long- no short- no long hair. But not an omega, definitely not an omega. They just want to fuck an omega, they would never want to be mated to one. Too shameful. That's when they fall into conversation about a young omega girl in Red Face's pack. I quickly tone the conversation out.