Page 15 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

I still went back the next day.

I stared at the banners, and I sobbed.

Torturing myself was a way to feel something.

Little.

Slices.

Into my heart.

Because sharp reminders I was alive were better than constant numbness.

Maybe if I’d been an Alpha, I would have burned Imperial down for what they did to me. Instead, I just haunted its perimeter like a ghost. A useless Omega, a broken dancer, good for nothing now. What would happen if I couldn’t find a job? How would I support myself when the money ran out?

Yesterday, I’d spent hours staring at my bank account and wondering what I was going to do. The severance check hadcleared, though I’d half expected it to bounce, rejected in the same way the Imperial had rejected me in the end.

On the surface, it seemed like I had plenty of money. But the balance had already dipped over four thousand. Food. Utilities. Miscellaneous bills. Property taxes. Payments on the remaining medical responsibilities. My current funds would last less than two years at the rate things were going. That might sound like a long time to some people, but I knew how quickly two years could pass.

I also knew how life liked to kick people when they were down—a textbook example being how my car was finally trying to die on me. It was vibrating like crazy, overheating, and each time I drove, I gave the rust bucket a ‘you can do it’ pep talk. When the check engine light came on, I’d gone to a local dealer to talk over options. I’d left with the harsh truth that cash was king if I didn’t have active employment.

“It’s goingto be nearly impossible to get you a loan,” the finance manager said, glancing at the numbers he’d worked out on a two-year-old hatchback with low miles. It was almost twenty-eight thousand. Far too much for me. I don’t know why I’d let the Beta salesman talk me into test driving it, let alone fill out an application. “Your credit is passable, debt ratio fine. But without income...” His voice trailed off before he blinked up at me.

When our eyes locked, I felt myself shrink further down into the chair.

“You said you had three interviews recently. How do you think those went?” He sounded so condescending. His Alpha scent plumed towards me in a noxious, acrid wave. Citrus, diesel, maybe an undercurrent of tobacco. I tried to stay polite, not wrinkle my nose despite the stench.

“Fine, I guess. I’ve not heard anything back though.” I bit my lower lip, feeling small under his scrutiny. He was summing my entire life up in numbers, the same way Imperial had with their stupid goodbye check. “I feel like the Richland District Beta school was promising though. They really needed a temporary Physical Ed teacher.” I tried to sound confident. I failed.

“Yes, well. We must deal in what’s realistically available to you unfortunately. The bank account you showed me is your only collateral I suppose?” He shuffled through the paperwork like it might bite him. “This isn’t an unsubstantial sum,” he said slowly. “Why don’t you just pay in full, Miss Shaw? If you’re not comfortable with that, half down might do it.”

“I don’t want to spend that much money right now,” I admitted, my own voice tasting sour in my mouth. The thought of dropping that much money in one go right now was nauseating.

“That much as in the whole sum, or half?” He pressed.

“Both,” I said firmly.

He looked up again.

This time I saw annoyance on his face. I could smell it too. The citrus soured, the tobacco grew stale.

“I’m sorry then, Ms. Shaw. Perhaps when you find stable employment, you can come back.” Somehow, he was simultaneously looking at me, and past me. Everywhere I went these days, I faced my loss of value.

My phone buzzed.I retrieved it from my bag, brought the screen to life, and traced my security pattern. Every new notification once made hope bloom in my body. That hope had long shriveled. This time, I didn’t frown. I didn’t smile. I felt empty inside as I checked the email, which was just another generic rejection from a job I didn’t want, offering a salary I couldn’t live on even if I was hired. Their reason this time was not only lack of experience, but that I was unmated. The way the world worked was so damn ridiculous.Who cared if I didn’t have a monogamous partner or a pack of my own? What did me being single have to do with a receptionist job at a dental clinic?

I put the cell away angrily, shoving it brutally into my purse before I could fall into the hurtful cycle of repeatedly reading the ‘thanks, but no thanks’ message from assholes who couldn’t even spell my name right. I took a deep breath. There was no point in dwelling. I had to plan. I had to find a way to push through. I was Nelly Shaw. I didn’t give up.

I pulled the phone back out and navigated to my notes app.

The bullet list in the “Omega Options” file was mostly crossed out now. I’d considered each idea carefully. I hated most of them, but I forced myself to reread them anyways, to rethink, to see the hidden possibilities.

-Preschool/elementary/middle/high school teacher, at an A/O accredited school.Notes: Would require a degree. School would have to sponsor as an unmated Omega. Salary: pitiful.

-Licensed real estate agent, must specialize in bonded pack or pair housing.Notes: Requires training and license. Most agencies won’t hire unmated Omegas, even with federal protections, so I’d have to be an independent agent. Salary: sales based.

-Nursing.Notes: Degree again. Research the state nursing program for unmated Omegas. Placement guaranteed, but I don’t get to choose. Salary: has potential.

-Retail, food service, hospitality.Notes: Could I handle this? Being a server or selling stuff? There’s nothing artistic about this. It might kill me. Salary: I’ve no idea.