Page 90 of The Bright Omega

Camelia

The universe giveth. The universe taketh away.

It’s been a few days since the bonding, and I’m still deep in domestic bliss. It probably has something to do with the mornings tangled in the nest with four very affectionate alphas. Afternoons filled with stolen kisses in the hallway. And evenings where someone is almost always touching me, or better, knotting me. But mostly it’s because our new bonds are constantly humming.

In other words, my home life is perfect.

Work… not so much.

I’m on a Zoom call with our usual group of omega influencers. Jazz asked for backup with trying to sell everyone on the new omega toilet paper line. The product itself tested amazingly. I’ve tried it so I can attest that it’s ultra-soft and fragrance free which is super important for omegas. But getting them to actually talk about it online is proving impossible.

“Seriously, Cam,” Ryley says, leaning back in her chair. “I already put way too much out there on social media. I’m not going to tell the world about how I clean myself after potty time.”

Amy nods vigorously, red ponytail swinging behind her. “Yeah, hard pass. Cute packaging though!”

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. “I get it. I really do.”

The call ends on that sour note. The omega influencers we partner with are our number one way of advertising. It’s their testimonials that bring OmegaBox new customers every month. Without them, I’m not sure how we’ll make this work, which sucks because the toilet paper is good. Not good enough that I would talk about it on TikTok, but good.

Jazz and I promise to touch base tomorrow to recalibrate and get this ship back on track. After an hour of toilet-paper induced trauma, I close my laptop and lean back in my chair at the kitchen table. I should move my stuff into the office space the guys cleared out for me. But I like it here. The lighting is good, the coffee and cookie access is excellent, and I’m much more likely to get a walk-by mate sighting from this spot.

Not today, though. For the first time since I moved in, every single one of them is out of the house. It’s quiet. And lonely.

Weird. I should be used to quiet. I’ve lived by myself for years. But I miss them.

I drum my fingers on the table, staring at the colorful pile of notes and samples in front of me. The omega toilet paper campaign suddenly feels a lot less important than it did an hour ago.

I stand and wander into the living room, running my hand along the back of the couch. The house is beautiful, especially now that Piers has managed to sneak in more bright art. It’s starting to feel like home. But right now, with everyone gone, it also feels a little too big.

I sneak a peek at my phone to double-check that no one has texted. My screen is empty, which is unsurprising but still disappointing.

When I slip the phone into the pocket on my cargo mini skirt, it buzzes. I can’t help the smug smile that spreads across my lips. I knew they couldn’t resist me for long.

It’s not one of my alphas.

Lucy: Hey! I know I’ve been MIA. Sorry. But I could really use a friend right now.

I reply immediately.

Cammie: Absolutely. Is something wrong?

Lucy: Can we meet? Nayda’s Cafe?

I type Sure… then backspace four times.

No more hiding from one bad memory. Time to get back on the horse. Cowgirl up. Put on the big girl panties… or chaps. I’m no longer sure where this metaphor is going.

I think about the guys warning that I shouldn’t go anywhere without them until Shayna is in custody. And then, in true Cammie Fucking James fashion, I push that right to the back of my mind. The alpha is probably long gone by now. No one’s seen her in weeks. There haven’t been any new threats. And, most importantly, I want to see Lucy.

Cammie: Let’s do Tinto’s. I could use a glass of wine.

Lucy sends back a thumbs-up emoji.

Lucy: See you in 30.

I set the phone down and take a deep breath, a little thrill of nerves mixing with determination. But as I reach for my bag, hesitation hits me hard. My hand freezes mid-air. The guys’ warnings echo in my head: no going out without us until Shayna is caught. The memory of that shove, the screech of tires, the impact… it all crashes over me for a second.

I force a slow breath. Then another. I check my reflection in the small mirror by the garage door. Then I go before I can talk myself out of it.