Page 8 of Caging Fire
My dad taught me never to provoke or be defiant to an alpha. He said they considered it a challenge, capturing their attention and making them want to assert their dominance.
The issue with that was my upbringing did not teach me submissiveness or subservience. My father raised me to say the things I wanted to say. All my life, I had the freedom to do as I pleased, including my little hobbies, which kept me busy while living alone in the woods.
Those hobbies included playing guitar, singing, painting and reading. I also made my soaps, lotions, suppressants and cooked using vegetables and fruit from the garden. Not very well, but I tried at least. There were a few times I attempted a new recipe that ended up in the trash instead of my stomach. I also tried teaching myself crochet, but my fingers always felt uncoordinated and clumsy holding the needles. There was rarely a craft I couldn’t get the hang of, and crochet was one of them.
Mostly, I did what I wanted, learning and trying new things. I didn’t concern myself with what every other omega did. There was no need to worry about my heat, nesting, mating, or finding a pack. My purpose wasn’t to reproduce and make more alpha and omega pups to feed the Arca Military Machine. And my purpose certainly wasn’t to please men, especially alphas.
I had grownveryattached to doing as I pleased.
No one told me what to do.
In my woodland oasis, I flourished. Living isolated put me at a disadvantage though, as I grew out of touch with the norms of social interaction between the different designations, which sometimes made it difficult to pretend to be a beta. That was part of the reason I avoided alphas. I wasn’t very convincing at playing the “good girl.” That disguise helped me to blend in with the crowd of other drooling betas who swooned over alpha attention.
I had tried to play that part when the soldier made me get out of the car, but I feared he may have caught the brief expression of defiance which slipped across my face when he touched me without my permission. Don't get me wrong; the thought of being caught terrified me. My anxiety was in overdrive as a panic attack clawed its way to the surface. When he touched me though, all that melted away, and suddenly I was just plain pissed. I had screwed up though because now he seemed overly interested in me, based on the bulge in his pants.
Yes, I was beta on paper, and had a real ID and real birth certificate, but that didn’t mean I was safe. I couldn't have anyone,especially him,looking any closer at me. There were things I couldn’t hide forever: my illegal garden, my scent, and my biology.
I had also been rationing my suppressants because of ingredient shortages, and my natural scent was getting stronger, my omega instincts riding me harder. There were definitely holes in my armor that made detection possible.
I considered trying to get out of the gig by feigning sickness and begging Malcolm to cancel so he could drive me home. There was no way I was getting a rideshare to No-Man’s-Land now, especially where I lived. The city was coming to life, and any driver would be eager for the fares taking patrons from one club, bar, or brothel to the next. I also knew Harper would throw an absolute fit. But the real reason I couldn’t bail was that I really needed the money from this gig. And so did everyone else. We were all pretty broke.
The ingredients for my suppressants were getting more expensive, and harder to find. That's part of the reason I had been rationing my pills every-other-day instead of every day. I supplemented my medication with the floral lotion, trying tohide my true scent. It was stronger on my off-medication day, which happened to be today. I thought about slathering more lotion on, but I was feeling sick from the potent smell.
My body was also probably in withdrawal, which compounded my sickness. My addiction to suppressants developed over ten years of use. They altered my biology so greatly that when I didn't take them; I had an array of miserable side effects that made me even more determined never to stop. Hot flashes, migraines, sensitivity to bright lights and rough textures, a dull ache in my stomach and between my legs were the worst of the symptoms. If I stopped taking them for long enough, I would go into heat, which, luckily, I had never had the displeasure of experiencing.
The car lurched to a stop, and I realized we were finally at Rosie’s. Malcolm had pulled the van up to the rear entrance so the boys could unload the heavy equipment. Lily and I helped move a few instruments and amps, but Harper disappeared entirely, saying she was “freshening up” in the bathroom.
“We’re good to finish unloading the rest if you and Lily want to freshen up too,” Alex said.
I was grateful for his suggestion because the ride was long. They had come from Yukon City, stopped in No-Man's-Land to pick me up, before heading to the checkpoint. We always turned the AC on in little bursts to keep the car somewhat cool, while conserving gas. Today was hot, and we were all sticky with sweat. I had wanted to freshen up too, but did not want to leave the guys on their own, like Harper had.
Why couldn’t I be in love with Alex? He had an uncanny ability to sense my discomfort and always knew what to say to make me feel better. Even if I loved him, he wouldn’t havereturned the romantic affection. I knew he was gay. I could tell by the way his eyes lingered on men in the bar.
One time, I walked in on him with a soldier who was stocky with a big mustache. They were in the back room behind the bar, where we kept extra equipment. It was late, but we’d stuck around after the gig to hang out with Billy. The two of them were standing close, lightly touching each other’s arms, talking with animated faces.
But that’s not what gave him away.
I knew he was gay the moment he saw me out of the corner of his eye and jumped back like he’d been burned. His cheeks flushed with shame, and he shoved his hands into his pockets like they were on fire and he was trying to smother the flames.
I’m not sure why he felt like I, of all people, would have judged him for his sexual preferences. I didn’t care if he was gay, straight or anything else. He was a genuine friend, and I would have always cared for him.
Then again, I had been lying to him for the past three years about who I was too. I suppose we all had our secrets. I had wanted to tell him I supported him no matter what, but we never talked about the awkward interaction again, and I never saw him with another man since.
Lily tugged me toward the bathroom, a little bag of cosmetics in hand. Sometimes she treated me like a doll, applying lipstick and brushing out my hair before our set. Not that I couldn’t take care of myself; I had a basic makeup and hair routine that I did frequently enough. Although I purposely kept my features and hair plain to avoid unwanted attention, covering my body in unflattering, modest clothes too. The girls liked to gossip abouthow they could improve my appearance so we would get better tips.
Harper was just leaving as we made our way over to the mirror in the women’s restroom. She sneered at me, clearly still not over my interaction with Billy.
“Not much you can do to fix that, Lil, gonna have to really put in some elbow grease,” she taunted as she walked out of the restroom.
“Don’t be such a bitch, Harper!” Lily yelled out after her, but it was too late. The door had already swung closed, and she was gone.
Harper was probably on her way to flirt with the bartender. She wasn’t interested in him, but she liked to do it in front of Billy, hoping he would get jealous.
“Sorry about her, Rowan. She’s just nasty sometimes. It doesn’t help that you antagonize her, though. You really should just leave Billy alone. I think she's in love with him.”
Lily was always trying to keep the peace between us, but Harper and I would never be the closest of friends.
“First off, you know and she knows I'm not interested in Billyin the slightest.I’m not sure why she thinks I am. Second, I can’t help it if he is interested in me. Even if he weren’t, Harper would still find a reason to hate me! Third, she can’t be in love with him, Lily. She barely knows him. Obsessed is a more accurate way of putting it.”
