I tried to fight my smile. The clipped shoes that entered were different from the softer footsteps of a Sister, and while I always preferred the comfort of a Sister I knew, the disappointment didn’t linger.
“I’m here to escort you.” The words were familiar, though the low voice wasn’t.
“Thank you for donating your time,” I said, as I did every time. I got to my feet in darkness, careful to avoid the long, grey gown we always wore.
As he stepped to my side, I caught the faintest aroma of almond and clove. A pleasant scent. He was an alpha, I could tell from the sharpness of it.
Rare, since they were held in such high regard in the Convent, and probably had better things to do than give charity to corrupted omegas like me.
Rather shakily, my one gloved hand reached out, palm up. I tried not to react as his warm touch met mine, and he looped my hand around his elbow.
This was all usual protocol, but for the proximity I was standing to an alpha. I could barely form my thoughts as he led me blindly from the room and down the Convent hallways.
Alphas were usually warned to stay away from the corrupted—to avoid risking temptation. I’d heard of it happening, usually from whispers accompanied by blushes, but I’d never experienced it. The few male members of the congregation that escorted us regularly were all betas.
To repent, to earn salvation with eyes like ours, the path was quiet and lonely.
Heats were suffered alone, and in full, in our rooms, the pain a payment for the risk we burdened society with.
I didn’t know if I believed in salvation—the teachings never felt close, or real like they did to some of the other omegas. But the corruption they taught of, the danger we posed… that scared me.
I was frightened of being the cause of someone else’s downfall.
This curse was a poison that I could never exorcise, but it was mine, and I didn’t want to make it anyone else’s.
While the omegas of the Convent weren’t strictly locked in, I, like the others, had been saved by them early on, and didn’t know much else in adulthood. I was thirteen when I’d been found in my mother’s home with golden eyes I didn’t know were a sin. It was simple: if an omega got the Institute’s injection within a year of perfuming, their eyes wouldn’t turn gold.
This, I’d learned too late, was about more than just keeping society safe from the rogue alphas those omegas birthed, who could be violent and dangerous. It also gave omegas, who were the imbalance and chaos to the strength of alphas, a path to purity.
I hadn’t known until after, but my mother was part of a radical group considered terrorists to society, sheltering any oftheir children who perfumed and not teaching them about the injection until it was too late.
The Convent worked hard to adopt every child discovered that way so they weren’t sent into an unforgiving system in the cities that would never give them a path to salvation or safety.
The alpha said nothing as we walked, and I tried to settle my nerves.
Naturally, my body, which ached from years of payments, reacted to him. There was a heat creeping up my neck, and my pulse raced, instincts daring me to shift closer. There was also slick pooling in my underwear, but I tried hard to ignore that.
None of it was in his control, and he’d spent the time to escort me. I wouldn’t return that with disrespect.
He was, I assumed, a younger packless alpha, since his scent was out in the open. Packless alphas wouldn’t scent match an omega, but those in packs typically opted into full scent blockers, as they would never want to risk scent matching a corrupted.
Of course, while other members of the congregation muted their scents, ours was required to be entirely smothered, as mine was right now.
Finally, I heard the low hum of conversation approaching. The breeze hit my face as we stepped out into the colonnade that connected the Sisters’ house to the worship building.
I stifled my smile, looking forward to stepping into the sea of scents. Hearing the gossip and talk of people who lived such strange and different lives than I did. Lives I would never have.
I was happy that he spoke to a few people on the way in. I heard a few questions about his choice to bring me, to which his response was humble.
“I overheard Sister Josephine say they didn’t have enough escorts last week,” he said. “Each of us should have the chance to hear the word.”
I think one clapped the other on the shoulder. “Blessed are those who take time for the sinners!” the other voice responded. “Luke, you’re going to make a fine pack lead.”
I froze, processing that.
Luke?
The congregation was large, but I’d been here for so many years, I knew enough about those that frequented the services.