Page 2 of Omega and the Beast

Callista

Three years later

Papa was supposed to be back by now.

It was the same thought she’d had every morning for the past week.

Worrying her lower lip between her teeth, Callista stared out the window at the road as she washed the dish she’d used for lunch, as if by staring hard enough she could make him appear.

It wasn’t just that she worried about him or missed him, although both of those things were true.

She had run out of her heat suppressants this morning.

If he didn’t return soon, she would have to shut herself in the basement and hope no one disturbed her.

She’d only run out twice before — once when she was eighteen and once last year, and both times, Papa had been there to see her through it and cover for her absence. This time, he’d been sure he’d be able to get them and return home before she ran out .

Something had gone wrong.

Her stomach twisted, and even though she knew her heat couldn’t possibly be starting yet, a little spurt of fear trickled through her.

A lone figure appeared on the road, one she instantly knew, but it was not her father’s carriage.

In his long, white robe, rather than the trousers and shirt the rest of the village males wore, Father Conal’s imposing figure was unmistakable.

Callista grit her teeth. He’d appeared on her doorstep every day for the past week, an unwelcome reminder that her father wasn’t home yet, and every day he became bossier.

The first day she’d invited him in for tea; after that, she’d found reason to keep him outside.

“Blast,” she muttered under her breath, as if afraid he could hear, and punish, even from this distance.

Rinsing her dish, she set it on the counter to dry, hurrying over to grab her shawl and wrap it around her dress.

Picking up her leather gloves and bucket of gardening tools, she ducked out the back door.

She had just enough time to kneel down and start digging in the dirt before she heard the faint sound of knocking at the front door.

Getting back to her feet, she quickly took a handful of dirt and cast it against her apron and layered skirts. There, that looked convincing enough. Walking around the side of the house, she waited until she saw Father Conal turn his head and see her before she began taking off her gloves.

“Father Conal!” she greeted him, acting as surprised as she could. “Back again? Has there been news of my father?”

It was the same way she’d greeted him every day, and as always, he shook his head, lifting his chin pompously.

The fabric of his robes was a bit discolored at the bottom, but the fact they were white at all was a reminder that he did very little work.

By contrast, Callista and the rest of the villagers wore darker colors in heavier, sturdier fabrics that didn’t show the wear and tear as much.

“No, Callista, no news of your father yet,” Father Conal announced in his usual supercilious tone, but there was a new note in it as well, one she hadn’t heard before. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“I… what?” She blinked, taking a step back. There was something about his posture she really didn’t like, that made her think danger. He wasn’t behaving in a threatening manner, but he was looking at her with an odd light in his eyes she’d never seen before.

“You’re a young woman, living alone?—”

“I live with my father,” she said sharply, not caring that she was being rude by interrupting him.

“Your father, who has not returned… and who may not return.” His lips twitched minutely at her flinch before he adopted a more placating posture.

He reached out to comfort her, but Callista took another step back, avoiding his touch.

He smiled at this, too, collecting these signs of unease the same way he collected coins from the already-impoverished villagers, and likely for the same reason, to count and recount as he sat alone in his lavish chambers, reveling in his superiority.

“I do not wish to distress you, my dear, but certain realities must be faced. Your father is one of the brave men of our town who has chosen the dangerous profession of traveling, and while such men are needed, sometimes… things happen, and they don’t return.

We’ve been blessed by the Gods that it has been so long since we’ve lost one of our own, but it may be the time has come again. ”

“He’s fine, he’s just… late.” Callista’s throat felt tight. Scratchy. Her eyes watered, but she blinked back the tears, re fusing to let them fall under the gaze of the cruel priest, who didn’t look at all upset at implying her father was dead.

“Of course, my dear,” he said, his voice dripping with false sympathy that grated painfully over her ears. “I just wanted to offer you my support… and also assure you that you will have my protection, no matter what has happened.”

“Your protection?” Her voice was starting to sound shrill, her thoughts struggling to understand what he was saying. Why would she need his protection?

“A female living on her own… it can be dangerous. There are many males in the village who have been interested in approaching your father, offering themselves as your mate. So far, he has kept them all at bay.”

Callista blinked. Her father had never mentioned such a thing to her, but then he wouldn’t have. “And are you offering to keep them at bay?”

“In a manner.” Father Conal smiled in a way that made her want to take another step back. “If you were my wife, then, of course, they wouldn’t bother you.”

“Your wife?” Her voice came out as a squeak as her hand flew up to her throat. She’d never sounded like that before in her life, but then she’d never been so horrified, either.

Father Conal was older even than her father, not to mention smug, patronizing and self-important. Not someone she would ever want to marry, even if he had been closer to her age.

Her disdain for this offer could not have been more evident, yet he bared his teeth in a smile, enjoying her reaction. “I can see you’re overcome by my offer.”

Callista was frozen in place, unable to force herself to smile back, yet too smart to do something so stupid as deny his interpretation of her reaction.

He glanced up at the sun in the sky. “Would you like to make us some tea while I take the necessary inventory of your father’s household? And I shall be happy to take any small requests you may have for the ceremony into consideration,” he added graciously.

“I am sorry, sir,” she said, finally finding her voice. “I’m busy in the back garden right now. I was there when I heard your knock…”

He looked down, his gaze slithering over her body as if it was already his to do with as he pleased, until he saw the dirt on her skirts.

“Ah, you are a hard worker, my dear. Something I always wanted in a wife.” He winked at her, and no longer frozen in shock, Callista managed to smile weakly. “Well then, I should be getting back to my duties. Perhaps tomorrow.”

Perhaps never.

Callista kept her smile pasted on her face as he turned to leave, waiting until he reached the gate to hurry around to the back of the house where she collapsed against the sturdy wall, panting for breath as the emotions she’d been holding back rushed over her.

Fear. Panic. Worry for her father.

Worry for herself.

Whatever had happened to her father, she had to believe he was safe somewhere. Delayed, but safe. She couldn’t let herself believe otherwise. However, his long absence had repercussions neither of them could have ever anticipated.

Marry Father Conal?

Impossible. The very thought made her body run cold.

Even if she didn’t find him loathsome, it was out of the question, but she had no authority to refuse.

Only her father could refuse a suitor and if he was…

absent, she needed a man willing to stand as her betrothed, perhaps even willing to lie to the priest and claim a secret marriage, and who wo uld ever do that?

Who in the village would dare defy Father Conal?

More importantly, who would do so without asking questions?

And… And if it came to that, who was she willing to marry?

Who could be trusted with her secret? Who would help her keep her Omega nature hidden away rather than turning her over to Father Conal for judgment?

Judgment. As if there were any doubt as to his verdict.

Alphas and Omegas were inherently sinful creatures — Alphas killed, Omegas lusted, and neither could be controlled.

Their perversions were the reason the Beast roamed the woods, or so Father Conal declared from his pulpit, and all the villagers knew it to be truth, or at least, did not dare to question him.

Callista could not judge her neighbors too harshly; she had believed him until she’d discovered for herself that what he said about Omegas wasn’t entirely true.

But whatever else he said, Father Conal preached that sin was as weeds in a garden, and that only by plucking sinners up and casting them out could the crop flourish.

And so there was only one outcome when an Omega or Alpha was discovered in their midst, and whether the Beast devoured them or they succumbed to exposure or misadventure, it didn’t really matter.

Those sacrificed to the woods never returned.

According to Father Conal, this was why the village flourished when all others wallowed in lawlessness, famine and plague.

He was so certain of it, that every three years, a lottery was held, wherein a young woman was called to be sacrificed to the Beast in the woods (although the daughters of Father Conal’s enemies had a way of being called more than others).

But no matter what day it was, if the village knew her nature, they would turn her over to Father Conal, who would sacrifice her to the Beast. Callie would have accepted her fate if her name had been called in the lottery, as it was her duty to keep the village safe, but she didn’t want to throw herself at death if there was any other way.

But was that really what awaited her in the woods? Father Conal was wrong about Omegas, so… maybe what he said about the Beast, the Alpha in the forest, wasn’t entirely true, either?

Callista closed her eyes, taking deep breaths as she tried to calm her racing heart.

Unfortunately, while Father Conal’s words hadn’t been entirely true, there was quite a bit of truth to them.

Her heat was awful. If a man other than her father had approached her while she was in her nest, she would have begged him to fuck her.

To defile her. Just like Father Conal said.

Which meant there was likely quite a bit of truth to what he said about the Beast.

It left her with a choice. Should she wait here for her father to return and save her both from heat without suppressants and a forced marriage to Father Conal?

Or should she brave the outside world and try to find him herself, risking not only the Beast, but a thousand other ways to die in the woods?

Either way, she knew Father Conal would likely appear again tomorrow… and the next day and the next… and at some point, her heat would hit. Then she’d be thrown into the woods, a sacrifice to the Beast, regardless.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at the sky where the sun was hanging low, though not setting yet.

She had this afternoon and tonight to prepare.

Tomorrow, she would leave to go look for her father. Truthfully, there was no other choice.