Page 81 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

But he couldn’t know the one secret I’d safeguarded so carefully. I’d never forgotten to charge the bracelet from Crystal. It was always soaked and potent. I’d never slipped up talking about my past. Well… except that one time. I’d mentioned Imperial and my ballet days, and I hadn’t thought that through. One of the other dancers had tried to look me up on her phone. If she’d been successful, she’d have found Nelly Shaw, not Lucky. She’d also have found my biography, where my secondary gender was clearly posted. The joke was on me though. The Imperial had scrubbed me from their website. To them, I didn’t exist anymore. The only proof there was that I’d been a principal dancer with a promising career existed in a memory box of photos and awards.

Being erased by Imperial hurt.God, how it had hurt.

But their erasure protected me. So, I got over it.

And then there was the club itself, the very nature of which provided another armor to my secret. It was always full of heady, noxious Alpha cologne, the smell of liquor and smoke, dancer perfume and powdery makeup. Even a trained bloodhound couldn’t scent me out here.

I shook my head.

Vince couldn’t know.

"We don't hire people like you, Nelly." Vince steepled his hands, elbows pressed against his desk's glossy surface. "It's illegal for Omegas to work in establishments like this. We could lose our operating license if the government found out."

The word fell between us like a hammer blow.

Omega.

It slammed the nail into the coffin.

Omega. Omega. Omega.

The designation I'd been concealing since my ballet career ended. The secret I'd protected because I knew what happened to Omegas in this society—relegated to maternal roles, expected to scent-match with compatible Alphas, stripped of autonomy. The truth that would force me away from the last chance I had at a dance career. I’d come to love Club Midnight. It was my new home after my old one betrayed me. I no longer judged myself for stripping. I’d found that stilettos could elevate me just as beautifully as pointe shoes.

"There must be some mistake," I attempted, but my voice wavered.

The slick-haired Beta to Vince's right smiled without warmth.

His companion offered a cruel smirk, mirroring him on the other side of Vince.

The unsettlingly apathetic man with the tablet spoke. “There has been no mistake, Ms. Shaw.” He flipped open the folder, holding the tablet beneath it. “It may take specialized blood testing to detect Omega classification, testing which is not generally done during normal health screenings which is why you flew under the radar before now. However, scent samples have unmistakable visual markers. The tech knew you were an Omega before the samples even arrived at Eros. Once those samples were tested, his professional assessment in the field was confirmed.”

My throat constricted, remembering the way the lab tech had admired my scent samples.

Remembering the way they had shimmered.

I recalled the words the tech wrote on each tube:‘rush, anomalous.’

I should have known.

But I didn’t want to know. So, I’d put my blinders on, hoping fate would be kind.

Hadn’t I fucking learned by now that fate was always my worst enemy?

"You’re well aware of Omega restrictions. You put my business at risk," Vince’s tone held anger now. “The federal mandates tightened last year, which is why I made a deal with Eros. Free testing for me, and no questions asked if one of my employees turned up an Omega.”

Eros. The name sent ice through my veins. What did I know about the Institute?The mobile clinic... the advertisement I’d seen for the ferality blocker... What else? I racked my brain, for some reason picturing a ridiculous fat cherub surrounded by arrowed hearts.

A flyer. I’d seen the company’s name on a flyer pinned to a shelter’s billboard that I passed on my morning runs. Dozens of information tabs already yanked off the bottom. Money for Omega scent samples. The possibility of changing your life for the better.

Not that the memory mattered. What mattered was now.

And I was losing everything again.

"I don't need an escort," I said, taking a step backward. "I'll get my things and go. I am sorry that I caused you trouble, Vince. I hope you know how much dancing here meant to me."

He stared at me for a heartbeat, saying nothing.

I started to turn, but he stopped me.