Alpha's Possession by Jessica Hall

Chapter 7

“Omega,” he groaned lewdly when I found myself tossed onto the floor. My backside hit the floor hard. It took everything not to cry out. He just shoved me as if he thought I was diseased and contagious. My omega instincts took over, wanting to please the Alphas and beg for forgiveness, but I squashed that down quickly, yet the sting of rejection was like a slap in the face. Stupid Omega instincts and Alpha pheromones were messing with my head.

I touched my fingers to my neck when I felt the trickle of warm blood run down it. Hybrid? I thought to myself. I glanced at the men to find them glaring at me, and the two of them growled, making me flinch. What did I do? I wondered.

I swallowed when the biggest of them stood. If looks could kill, I would be dust. His murderous growl was thunderous when I came face to face with the man I spilt coffee on earlier. Shock hit me. I thought he seemed familiar, and I was glad for the mask obscuring half my face. Yet he dio ward glance as he stormed out, making tears brim in confusion. I hated that instinct made me helpless against Alphas. I should have taken extra suppressants, but I needed maximum tips tonight, and nothing drives Alphas crazier than natural Omega pheromones.

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However, now all I wanted to do was crawl back into my little den in my shitty apartment and curl into a ball. It was stupid that strangers I did not know could reject and toss me away so easily, and it had this effect on me all because I was born with genes I despised.

Wiping my tears, I regather myself, wiping the tears of humiliation and rejection off my face, when Bri anna walks in. She notices me and is quick to rush over to me. She grips my arms.

“I‘m okay, just stupid instincts,” I tell her, and she nods sadly. She was Beta blood, and she used it to her advantage. She didn‘t crumble and fall at the feet of Alphas. Brianna wasn‘t the lowest on the food chain. I wished I had the confidence she had and could easily slip into the stereotypical Omega stuff, de spite her not being one. Yet, here I was, an Omega, and failed miserably at it.

Yet I hated being Omega, hated that Alphas held such control over us just because we were made for Alphas. Omega‘s we the only ones that could take their knots. I must be an oddity. I despised what I was, yet Brianna would kill to be an Omega, while I‘d kill to be Beta. At least then, I wouldn‘t have to reform or put up with baser instincts I hate.

“Come on, let‘s get you cleaned up,” I shake my head. I wanted to go home, and I was about to tell her as much when Tal raced into the room. He sighs. “You didn‘t take your suppressants, did you?” he says, and I shake my head. “I didn‘t take my nighttime ones,” I admit. He curses under his breath.

“That explains… the allure they had toward you, without knowing,” He sniffs me, and I fight the urge to cringe.

 called on you?” he murmurs, and I shake

 I could barely notice it

groans. “Fuck, you smell good,” he groans, his words coming out in a snarl as his eyes flicker. He shakes himself, and Brianna puts herself between us. He

but a promise is a promise,” he says, handing over

were they?” I asked him, taking

 our clients, just like you girls, don‘t give them your real names and keep

her name,” I

behind curtain entertainment,” Tal says,

Tal sighs. I would have given most of it back if I didn’t owe Martha so much since / barely did anything,

now so I could keep a roof over my head. Hopefully, it will be enough until I start this new job tomor row and hopefully start bringing in a paycheck each

services, Zara, I sug gest you head home before you scent all over this place,” Tal says, and he was right. I needed to get home before my scent became dangerously strong. An unmated Omega did not want to be caught on the streets late at night

called out from behind the bar. “Good luck tomorrow, Z,” he says, nodding to me, and I

 steps, only to stop when I saw Mike

 and I dig through my pockets, staring at Mike‘s back. I hand it to her and

 only $1000 here, Zara! Where

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 I plead, looking at my

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 Zara. I’m sorry I am not running a charity,” Martha says, and I

tomorrow,” I tell her, rummaging through my bag to show her