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The all-encompassing power of sun startled Julia Richards awake, when it pore its life-sustaining blessing through her window. She watched in awe, almost forgetting to breathe, as the whole room was suddenly transformed into a bright and otherworldly place.
Despite waking an hour before she had to, she felt perfectly awake and full of strength, energy and optimism. This was going to be a wonderful day, she just knew it. So after a few minutes of appreciating the result of her forgetfulness that made her not draw her room’s curtains, she danced – quietly, girl, people are sleeping, stop giggling – to the kitchen, and opened a cookbook.
“Now, this cannot be as hard as it looks.”
When Julia’s mother walked into the kitchen, she was greeted with an unusual sight: her daughter, with a deep frown of concentration on her face, in a middle of preparing a French toast. Her eyebrows shot up. “Those are for us?”
Julia nodded, eyes still on her work. “For you. For me. For everyone. I found them in a cookbook. It sounded tasty.”
Her mother stared at her, eyes wide. “I thought you hate those things. Do you feel okay?”
Julia finally looked at her, considered the question, then shrugged. “I guess. Why should I hate them?”
“You called those vile and wicked excuses for a food not two weeks ago,” her mother said.
“Really?” the question was incredulous. “There’s toast. There’s eggs. There’s sugar. What’s not to like?”
Her mother tilted her head to side, looking slightly lost. “I think I better get your father.”
Her daughter meanwhile returned to her work, calling after her retreating back, “You do that. Tell him there’s French toasts!”
The breakfast wasn’t that bad for something cooked by a novice cook, actually. As long as you didn’t try the three first ones.
“What are you planning for today?” asked his daughter Mr Richards, who appeared to be in an extraordinarily good mood, and also much less terrified by his daughter’s startlingly unusual behaviour than his wife was. Mrs Richards was sitting in a corner of the table, watching them with a rather worried expression, as if expecting both of them to start chewing utensils.
“I thought I would visit Liam. I haven’t seen him in ages – why haven’t I seen him in ages? He’s my mate and he’s awesome,” answered Julia cheerfully, pouring a generous amount of strawberry jam over her helping.
Her father chuckled. “So you did. It’s been a while since you were at his, I’ll give you that. One more day and people would start to doubt you are his omega.”
Julia blanched. “No! No, they… they wouldn’t. No.”
Just the previous day she would take it as a harmless joke: everyone knew that the bond between an omega and their mate was close to unbreakable, even if it was with a beta, as was her case. Both alphas and omegas could smell it on the omega’s mate, too, and it served as something of a turn-off, to ensure that the omega would have all of mate’s attention to themselves.
But suddenly none of that was important. Being forgotten as a mate was newly a terrifying prospect.
...oh.
Julia slouched in her seat and rubbed her eyes, previous cheer disappearing, leaving weariness in its wake. “I’m going into a heat, aren’t I?” she grumbled. Of course her good mood wasn’t just a mood. It never was.
“Very likely,” agreed her father and moved his chair closer to his wife, so he could place one of his hands around her hips, “It’s just that time of a year, I’m afraid. You will get used to it.”
His wife sighed. “My boss is going to be such an ass. Again.” She rose. “I should probably get there early, if he’s really going to be twitchy. Wish me luck.”
“Alphas – what do you want,” Mr Richards laughed, got up too and kissed her deeply. “Go get them, love. Show you can take care of your omega.”
Julia turned her head away, more out of habit than disgust. “It’s thirteenth already? I would have sworn I have one more week. I planned a picnic with John …”
“Yeah, sorry about that. But he’s not going to find a mate if an omega hangs out with him during a week.”
“John’s not a whore or a… surrogate.”
“Which is why you shouldn’t make him look like one. Look, I know you’re good friends, but it would be easier for everyone – for him too, with your state you would just make him miserable – if you just waited a week or two. It’s not that much to ask, is it?”
She shrugged in defeat. “I guess. At least I can see Liam, right?”
“Right. And give him our regards, okay?”
The fresh air soon cleared Julia’s head of senseless worries. With a song on her tongue and in her loveliest summer dress – yes, she knew it was only April and not that warm yet, what could she say, she felt like it – she decided to take a shortcut to her mate’s house, the one that led by a steep rising street and through a park. The path could be dangerous at night, as the benches drew dangerous elements to the park, but the nightfall was far away, and that day it was difficult to worry about this stuff anyway.
Though it was early in the morning, and the heats and ruts were in their first phases, already the changes in people’s behaviour were noticeable. Julia could see the front yards of Browns, one of the more cautious beta families living in the district, conspicuously devoid of activity. She knew from experience that unless there was a fire, there were unlikely to be seen outside before the end of the season.
Dr. Carlson, who lived next to them, was standing next to his car with keys in hand, but Julia doubted he would make it to work today: for one, he appeared to have forgotten about an appropriate footwear, for two, he was staring at his omega husband in a way that suggested he’s unaware of the rest of the world. When Julia saw him, she couldn’t help it: she giggled to herself. Season was everywhere, glorious, and it seemed silly to her that there were once times when she dreaded every mention of it.
The park was predictably buzzing with activity, as the usual number of people there nearly quadrupled: almost all young unmated alphas and omegas gathered there, some of them unaware of the nature of urges that drove them from their homes, but instinctively anxious to fight, to prove their worth and then… Julia was fairly sure they had no idea about then. Yet. Some betas were there too, those that never passed an opportunity for a fight or a competition. Some of the older, more aware omegas there were trying to drive them away, but it was a half-hearted effort at best: with alphas being thrice as likely to die a premature death, in many ways mixed relationships, regardless of whether it was omega-beta or alpha-beta, were more desirable.
“Julia!” shouted one of the omegas around a table covered by papers that presumably – judging by the animated gestured surrounding them, and that there were several sportsmen from different events involved – had something to do with point system. “What brings you here? Ready for another bout of hammer throw? I trained all winter, you know? Now you have no chance against me!”
Instead of a burning need that used to be stirred by similar words, Julia felt a… twinge of interest. Oh how wonderful it was to be a mated woman. Still… For a moment she wavered, shifting her feet unsurely. Then she shook her head resolutely. “Maybe later, Deliya. I’m on my way to Liam’s! Can’t leave him waiting, can I?”
Deliya booed at her in mock disappointment, but she didn’t seem very surprised or upset by her decision. A moment later she whooped when an alpha and a beta run around her too close and almost knocked her down, then with a large grin turned to the other omega. “That’s cheating, you know, when you weasel out by getting a mate. But sure, sure, be on your way. And if you regain your senses, we’ll be here ready to kick your ass.”
“Not everyone is a giglet like you, Deliya,” retorted laughing Julia. “See you.”
“If you remember us tomorrow, bring Liam back here with you,” yelled Deliya after her, “I’ve never seen it, but people say he used to have a killer right hook in his days. So how about you tell him to move his fat ass here and show them how it’s done? I swear no one here has ever seen a match worth watching. No technique, I’m telling you.”
“I’ll ask. But, Deliya?” turned Julia to her for the last time, almost at the end of the tree line. Her smile grew predatory. “If I get back, you watch yourself.”
Tap-tap.
Tap-tap, tap-tap.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. Dum.
Tap. Tap-tap.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” yelled Liam, unaccustomed to early guests, while searching rather frantically for his trousers. “It better be important, though.”
When he opened his doors – much too late, if the noise behind them was to be believed – he found his arms full of an eighteen years old ball of happiness. “Liam! How are you all this time? It’s been an eternity!”
“Huh.” Suddenly painfully aware that none of his clothes were ironed, much less fresh, he looked down to his red-headed mate, who seemed to wear her best clothes. “Is there a holiday I forgot about? Do you want me to take you somewhere?”
“Sort of. But no, we don’t have anywhere to go today. Mostly I just felt like seeing you,” she chirped, and when allowed inside, she hopped on a nearest piece of furniture, so now she was slightly higher than him. Liam watched her with bemusement and growing alarm.
“Are you alright? Hey, watch it, that coffee table is a gift from my…”
“Did I ever tell you you’re wonderful?”
“… am I? The cof…”
“You are wonderful. I haven’t told you enough and you deserve to hear it every day. Every hour!”
“… Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Positive.” She threw hands around his neck and giggled. “Can I stay here forever?”
“… What?! No. Look, I have no idea what’s going on, but I have work to do and you’re about to be late for school, so how about you pack and…”
“I don’t have school today.”
“What do you mean by that? I thought you said that there’s no holiday.”
“It’s not. But the season is here! Isn’t that wonderful?”
Liam’s eyes slid to the kitchen’s doors, where he kept his calendar. He sighed deeply, his shoulders sagged in defeat and he stopped squirming in Julia’s hold. “Okay, you can stay. Only during the season, however. We wouldn’t want to let something happen to you when the hormone-crazed alphas run around.”
“You’re the best!”
“Yes,” he muttered bitterly, “I am.”
Liam called to work that he wouldn’t be able to come today. Or the whole week. His boss took it in stride and assured him that none will come of this and congratulated him on getting a mate. Three times. Only after Liam realised that yes, that guy is an omega too, and a mated one at that.
Omegas in heat were weird.
Three hours later he found out that they also suffered panic attacks and broke into tears when their mates refused to be in the same room as they were, that they insisted on physical contact with not only their mate but also with everything in close proximity, and couldn’t stay quiet for two minutes.
“Okay, you win,” he finally allowed, “no work today.” He closed his notebook. “What do you want to do then?”
Julia wilted at the harsh tone, and Liam fidgeted, suddenly feeling guilty. It wasn’t as if she was responsible for her… condition, after all. She sniffed and started, “I didn’t mean to…”
“I know,” he interrupted. “It’s not your fault. And anyway, I looked forward to this for some time. So how about we take this to the bedroom?”
“Um, sure. What there?”
“What do you…” Liam didn’t finish the question as he realised the answer. He resisted the urge to smack his forehead. “Okay, so, you never did this before?”
Julia pouted, and once again Liam regretted that he had no omega in his family he could ask how these things work for them. Surely they didn’t wait until the wedding night, right? No one did that. He didn’t do that.
“You’re not a surrogate, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Apparently, there were people who did that. Great. Splendid.
Crap.
A kiss from his mate – god she was beautiful, how did he miss how beautiful she was – left him lightheaded. Worries were suddenly difficult to concentrate on.
“Did I do that right?” she wanted to know, and her eyes were impossibly bright. “You seemed distraught. I needed to do something.”
Damned omega devilry. “You don’t do that without warning okay?” he snapped, “Or to others,” he added as an afterthought, because suddenly something like that seemed like the worst thing that could ever happen. Who cares about overtime, anyway?
“I would never,” she solemnly swore, eyes big and serious. Her lips were distractingly lovely.