Page 61 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

“Yeah…” Wyatt let the one word trail off.

Shit, we were so far gone.

I’d never worried before that our pack wouldn’t stand the test of time.

Now? I had doubts.

16

NELLY

Four days ago…

[Almost present day]

Seattle, Washington

I wasn’t just surviving anymore.

I’d adapted. I’d overcome. I had a new life now, though of a very different flavor.

I jogged up to the front of the Clairemont, mounting the slate-colored front steps with practiced precision. I’d been running up the painted stairs for almost nine months now. Every morning, I’d leave the apartment building at six AM. Every day, I’d find myself returning by six-thirty. Clockwork. I was clinging to my new Seattle schedule as if my actual life depended on it.

Out of the shower by seven. The same breakfast almost every morning. I’d run errands afterwards. Anything that needed doing during normal business hours, and then home again. A second shower. Checking over my work supplies and then leaving home when most of my neighbors were settling infor the evening... because my job began when average Joes and Sues locked their front doors and set their alarms.

Pushing through the heavy, solid entrance of the Clairemont, I stepped into the too-warm lobby with its low ceilings and bank of black residential mailboxes mounted to the right. Too early for mail, so I began ascending at a brisk pace, trying to keep my heart rate up until the last possible moment. One floor up. Two floors up. I pushed into the third level, and beelined for my apartment, number 311. This place didn’t have a balcony, which was on the top of my want list, but the view of the woods out back along with the gone-wild garden area was a passable view at least.

Filling a glass with room temperature water from the tap, I made quick work of stirring a recovery powder into it and downing every drop. I scowled at the flavor. Watermelon mint had sounded amazing, but it tasted foul. I could have tossed it in the trash. Realistically now, I could afford to do so. But I’d never been a waster, not after being raised by ‘waste not, want not’ grandparents.

Though, things had been different when I’d first moved here. I’d paid a year up front for the apartment, which was a huge chunk of change. Then I’d spent nearly three months hopelessly job hunting and fearing every dip of my bank account. Rationally, I knew I had plenty of time. Emotionally, I also knew time went too quickly. My savings couldn’t last forever, not even after buoying it up with the house sale added to my Imperial severance.

Yes... time went to quickly.

In a blink, life can shift from happy to bullshit.

Not sure what I’d have done if I hadn’t seen the advertisement for Club Midnight.

Not sure what I’d done if Crystal hadn’t seen me waiting in the side alley that night, knowing I couldn’t get the job becauseI was an Omega. She’d had zero reason to source a scent blocker and help me hide my nature. I still wasn’t sure what made her take me under her wing.

“I’m guessingyou must be pretty desperate if you’re out here looking like a stray kitten?” Crystal was wearing sky high purple heels. A fringed, sparkly jacket, fish net stockings, and a corset get up that left little to the imagination. She’d just popped out for a smoke between sets, her figure standing at the top of the stairs catching the light of the alley lamps. All the sequins made her look like a disco ball.

Money was still sticking out of a thong that perfectly coordinated with her outfit, I’d almost thought it was a one-piece suit. I spied a hundred-dollar bill. A hundred! She caught me looking, gaze flicking down.

“You know, first rule is you always secure your money.” She locked the slender cigarette between her lips and used both hands to gather the bills, fold them neatly, and stuff them into the corset top. She had to have at least five hundred bucks, maybe more.

“So, are you mute?” Her gaze slammed into mine a second time. She didn’t sound mean, or confrontational, just curious.

“I’m not desperate.” I claimed, though it was obviously a lie. “I just saw the advertisement online and I...”

“You knew Omegas absolutely are prohibited from exotic dancing?” She quirked an eyebrow, studying me carefully.

“I mean...” I fumbled my words awkwardly. Of course I knew that, but I’d exhausted so many options. I was tired of jobhunting. Tired of interviews, followed by inevitable rejection. Dance schools and companies didn’t want me, because of my past injury. A lot of jobs were reluctant to hire unmated Omegas. Some doors wouldn’t even open to let me try for a position. Months. I’d been fighting for months to find something. Any damn job. I was so tired. I couldn’t do it anymore.

“Look, Sweetie. You’re lucky it’s me you ran into and not one of the other girls. They’d not let you down so kindly...” her voice trailed off. Her expression softened, and I wondered if she’d seen the moisture building in my eyes.

“Hey, you’re really not doing so hot, are you?” She popped down the steps and closed the distance to me. Before I could back away, she’d swiped beneath my eyes, catching the first tears before they could track down my face.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled.