Outback claim an omegave.., p.1
Outback Claim: An Omegaverse Romance (Aussie Alphas Book 1), page 1
Outback Claim
Aussie Alphas Book One
Bridget Blake
Copyright © 2023 Bridget Blake
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Foreword
HOLD UP! Before you jump into this short, sweet, and steamy Omegaverse standalone story, you should be aware of a few things.
If you love Omegaverse set in a modern, contemporary setting, then this story is right for you. Jump on in!
If you haven’t read Omegaverse before, I recommend a quick Google search to clear up any confusion. This book is for adult readers only and contains sexual content. There will be descriptions of fluids, knotting, and claiming bites.
Additionally, this book is set in Australia and is therefore written using Australian English.
Trigger Warnings: swear words, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, paranormal sexual themes such as knotting, slick, and claiming bites.
Dedication
For anyone who has struggled with anxiety. June is for you.
You are not alone.
Prologue
June
The Alpha sitting across from me smells like printer ink and stale coffee. I try not to wrinkle my nose on each inhale but fail miserably.
He’s been talking about his law firm’s inter-office drama for the last ten minutes and hasn’t noticed I’ve become increasingly jittery. My bottom lip feels swollen as I dig my front teeth into the abused flesh, and my eyes dart around the bustling restaurant.
My skin prickles under the watchful eyes of the other customers. I hate that this date is a spectacle almost as much as I loathe being the centre of attention. I’d give anything to be back in my studio apartment working on my latest commission — a gorgeous landscape with a surrealist twist.
Alphas and Omegas are rare enough that Betas find us intriguing. The nosy middle-aged woman at the table next to us, who I’ve internally named Gladys, is practically falling out of her chair as she strains to overhear what the Alpha is saying. She’s probably hoping our date is something similar to what she reads in her romance novels with bare-chested Alphas on the cover. Unfortunately for poor Gladys and me, there are no sparks flying or cosmic connections being formed. This date is painful.
In fact, I’m about one minute away from a full-blown panic attack. I can feel the telltale tightening in my chest and the coiled fist of molten lava settling in my gut. The company is unsavoury, but it’s the location that’s sending me into a spiral of fear.
Each loud noise or sudden movement chips away at my resolve, setting my prey instincts on edge. I’ve already retreated to the bathroom twice to gather myself, and I doubt I’ll be able to disappear again without drawing more unwanted attention.
“And then I told them, if they didn’t stop acting like children in the workplace, I’d have to use my Alpha command to make them behave,” says Stale Coffee, chuckling to himself as he shovels another forkful of expensive wagyu steak into his mouth. I push my fork around the plate but take only a few bites of the salad he ordered without asking what I wanted.
I can’t remember the Alpha’s name. I’ve lost it in the fog of my anxiety that has consumed me since I left my apartment earlier this evening. What I do know is using an Alpha command to strip away his co-workers' free-will isn’t funny — it makes him a giant jackass.
I must make a disapproving expression, because his laughter cuts off and his bushy eyebrows pull down. He’s not unattractive. All Alphas somehow look like chiselled male models, but his personality makes him ugly.
“What, Omega? You think you’d handle it better than an Alpha?”
The derogatory way he says Omega acts like corrosive acid and eats at my wavering confidence.
I blink back at him and clench my fists in my lap to stop them from shaking.
The file from the mating agency said Stale Coffee is a successful lawyer. However, what their files never say about their clients is how affected they are by aura sickness. The dangerous plague affecting the Alpha and Omega community has taken his pompous, misogynistic attitude and amplified it.
Aura sickness affects each person uniquely, usually by heightening an existing personality trait. For me, it’s crippling shyness and social anxiety. My prey instincts are stuck in a permanent alert state. I’ve always been shy, but now I’m practically a hermit. Everyday decisions send me into a spiral of doubt and fear.
I’ve been spending more and more time in my studio apartment, working on my paintings and selling them online. I no longer visit galleries or venture out for my mid-morning coffee.
The mating agency I signed up for has been working hard to find me a match, but unfortunately, all of my dates have flopped. It’s becoming harder and harder to force myself to keep dating. Yet I know the only cure is to find my Alpha and for his aura to balance my own.
Stale Coffee seems to take offence with my silent and twitchy state.
“Even for an Omega, you’re a bloody mouse, but I bet you’re a screamer in bed,” the Alpha sneers with sickening delight.
Gladys’ chair squeaks as she leans forward with eager anticipation, hungry for an exciting story to tell her friends.
Alphas are natural born leaders. At their best, their designation lends them strength, speed, and a dominant aura that helps them protect and provide for their community. At their worst, they can be extremely territorial and aggressive. Omegas like me temper the harsher side of an Alphas dominance with our calming aura. We’re extremely fertile with the unique ability to take an Alpha’s knot. An Omega without an Alpha is vulnerable to violence and exploitation. Biologically speaking, Alphas and Omegas are a symbiotic partnership that needs each other to thrive. The longer an Alpha or Omega spends without the balancing influence of their mate, the more volatile their aura becomes — when it becomes a problem, it’s called aura sickness.
If that sickness impacts society, a government run facility is the only place left to go. I shudder at the thought of disappearing into the system. I may not be a danger to society, but I’m rapidly losing my ability to function within it. Finding a mate has never been more important, and it’s safe to say this douche-canoe is not the one.
I’d find it in myself to be disappointed later, because right now I can’t breathe and the room seems to shiver and shrink. The cacophony fades until I can’t hear anything over my pulse pounding in my ears. A full body shake violently wracks my limbs. This is beyond a panic attack. My flight instincts are taking over and I can’t do a thing to stop it.
“Your file said you were shy, but this is ridiculous. Do you ever speak? Hmm?”
I open my mouth, but only a choked gust of air rushes out.
“What good is an Omega if I can’t take you out to my firm events and show you off?”
There it is. The conclusion every Alpha comes to. I’m too quiet, too anxious, too mousey. Omegas are the ultimate accessory for an Alpha to flaunt and make others jealous. With me, there will be no squiring around town. Even without my aura sickness, I’d rather stay home.
I nod sharply, trying to fight against the tears of embarrassment prickling in my eyes. I swallow with an audible gulp.
The Alpha simply looks at me with barely concealed disappointment. I want to shout at him that if he took me to the location I’d requested, a quiet and calming cafe within walking distance to my nest, I might’ve been able to talk. But I don’t. I can’t.
The words are stuck echoing in my head even as I climb out of the cab and scamper up my apartment building’s staircase.
I slam my studio apartment door closed and lean against it, throwing the multiple locks into place. And finally, I can breathe for the first time since I left for my date hours earlier.
My heart rate slows, and the oppressive overwhelmed feeling ebbs away. Yet, despite being safe in my home, I still feel smothered by the city. The constant hum of activity leaks through the windows and a siren wails in the distance. I never truly feel safe.
I slide down the door and press my forehead to my knees, allowing myself a moment to wallow in my misery.
Each passing day is worse than the last. I can’t sleep. Every car horn or voice passing in the hallway jolts me awake. I spend too much time hiding in my nest, desperately trying to burrow and feel a sliver of safety despite my hindbrain screaming that danger is all around me.
My nest is the one place in the entire world where I feel relaxed and can shelter from the storm in my head.
I’ve always made my nest with what I had available. When I was young and lived with my mum in our tiny two-bedroom city centre flat, I transformed the tiny storage closet into a cosy nook. I'd hide in there whenever she'd bring strange Alphas over, cocooned in my safe space with headphones drowning out the sounds in the other room.
My open-plan studio apartment didn't offer any closed off spaces to snuggle into, so I hung sheets from the ceiling, interwoven with fairy lights to create a canopy over my bed.
When I allow myself to daydream about my perfect nest, I picture somethi
ng completely different. I want a dedicated room. Somewhere that smells like drying paint and hums with creativity. Natural light will flood through large windows with a view of nature. I won't need to nest in a dark corner anymore because my Alpha will make me feel safe enough to bask in the sunlight.
Daydreams can be cruel.
I’d dragged myself out tonight, fuelled by the desperate hope of finding my Alpha. The one who would soothe this ache inside me and chase away the lengthening shadows of my fear.
No such luck. I knew the moment I met Stale Coffee that it was a flop, but we were both desperate to make it work. Both so close to the edge of losing ourselves to aura sickness that we were willing to sit through a dinner service in the faint hope we might be able to tolerate each other.
How sad.
I’ve always believed in scent matches, the one Alpha whose mere smell would confirm he’s perfect for me. At this point, I’d settle for an Alpha that doesn’t make my nose wrinkle with disgust.
Laying on the floor beside me is the latest copy of Omega Weekly. It’s fallen off the upcycled hallway stand I’d lovingly restored, the pages splayed open to the personal ad section at the back and one ad jumps out at me.
I reach for the magazine and pull it into my lap, the overhead light creating a glare on the glossy page. This section is typically full of impassioned pleas from Alphas with advanced stages of aura sickness, desperately seeking their Omega. Yet, this ad is something entirely different.
Small outback town seeks eligible Omegas
In Bodella we understand the importance of true love and a sense of belonging, which is why we are inviting any eligible Omegas to visit our town to meet our Alpha bachelors.
In return for your genuine interest in mating and residing in Bodella, you will receive in-town lodging, three-square meals, and support in meeting local eligible Alphas.
Our welcoming community offers many advantages to our Omegas, such as access to fresh air, natural beauty, ample space to explore, comfortable living conditions, and a potential mate.
Bodella is an idyllic location for any Omega who wants to move to a remote rural area.
The phone number at the bottom has an area code I’ve never seen before, and simply says ‘Call Ida Parson for more information’.
I usually avoid speaking on the phone. It can take days to work up the courage to make a call, but I slip my phone out of my purse without preamble.
It rings for a long time, and I dig my nails into the palm of my hand to steady my nerves.
“Hello, Parson residence,” says an older, feminine voice with a thick Australian twang. It’s croaky, like I’ve woken her up from sleep. I glance at the time in the top right-hand corner of my phone. Nine thirty at night. A rush of guilt floods through me and I cringe. I’ve definitely woken this old lady up.
I try to respond, but only manage a strangled squeak.
“Are you calling about the advertisement?”
I force out an affirmative, “Uh-huh”.
The lady perks up, and I hear a rustling of paper in the background and the scrape of a chair.
“Oh, this is wonderful. Thank you for calling, my dear. I’m very happy to hear from you.”
A warmth spreads through me at her words, and I dimly realise that this stranger is an Omega. Only our designation has the ability to immediately set strangers at ease. I used to have that skill before my calming aura turned into a twitching, nervous mess.
“Now, tell me all about yourself and we’ll see if you’re a match for our little town.”
I take a deep breath and straighten my spine. I dig deep within me, summoning up the last thread of my bravery, and I speak without a stutter.
Chapter 1
June
I step off the bus onto the cracked road. The moment my sandals hit the scalding hot surface, I feel the rubber soles fuse with the sticky melted tar. The dry January heat hits me like a sledgehammer, pressing into my skin and burning my throat.
It’s barely a bus stop, a decaying wooden bench under a gum tree and a lopsided sign declaring, ‘Welcome to Bodella. Proud Cattle Country. Population 458’.
What the bloody hell made me think this was a good idea?
I spin on my heels and raise my shaking hand to signal the driver to wait, but the bus doors close with a hiss.
I watch as the bus pulls away, its engine roaring and exhaust billowing in an acrid cloud. My hand hangs in the air, my voice caught in my throat, as I will the bus to stop and take me back onboard, but it continues to disappear into the wavy heat distorted horizon. I feel my eyes burn with frustrated tears, desperate to be back on that hunk of junk.
I impulsively hopped on the two am bus to a small town in the middle of nowhere, only hours after being convinced to make the trip. As the sun rose, I finally got a glimpse of the desolate terrain that lay before me, and my courage suddenly vanished. It was then I realised the gravity of my choice.
This whole adventure is wildly out of character. Even if I wasn’t a socially reclusive Omega, it’d still be batshit bloody insane.
I feel clammy all over, and the oppressive heat is making it hard to breathe, or is it the tendrils of a panic attack grasping at me?
I really bollocksed this up.
“June?” A familiar feminine voice clips from behind me. “Are you June Garraway?”
A short woman emerges from behind the gum tree holding an umbrella. She’s in her late sixties, dressed neatly in linen slacks and a cotton button down, and it’s obvious to anyone with eyes she is an Omega like me. Our wide hips, rounded features, and short stature make our appearance very distinctive.
I can also tell she’s a mated Omega just by her scent. She smells like the eucalyptus leaves hanging over our heads, but it’s intertwined with the masculine musk of an Alpha.
I pat at my messy hair and try to smooth my wrinkled dress, cringing internally as I plaster a smile on my face. I must look like I’ve gone three rounds with a boxing kangaroo after travelling through the night.
“I thought that might be you. Strewth, aren’t you a pretty little thing? Our Alphas are going to fall over themselves,” she says in a gush, her words rattling off so quickly that it takes my brain a second to catch up.
“Are – Are you Mrs Parson?”
“Yes, deary. That’s me, but call me Ida. I’m absolutely thrilled you’re here. I can’t tell you how excited I was to receive your call.”
The older woman’s pudgy arm loops around mine and drags me under her umbrella. It all happens so fast that I limply stumble along.
“Careful, dear. The sun out here is wicked on our Omega skin. It’s best to stay out of it if you can.”
I haven’t been standing under the blazing sun for very long, but I can already feel my pale skin starting to prickle and redden. A pink hue is probably starting to glow in the V neckline of my summery dress.
I hitch my duffle bag higher on my shoulder and allow myself to take in my surroundings. I am struck by the simplicity of the place. There are only a few buildings in sight lining the road, including a rustic general store and a quaint post office. The pub stands tall in the centre of town, with a sign creaking in the scorching breeze, inviting me to quench my thirst with a cold drink. The vast expanse of the outback stretches out in all directions, with rocks jutting out like crooked teeth from the craggy ground. Sparse greenery dots the land here and there, like an artist’s brush stroke on a canvas.
All I can think is, red.
Everything here is red. It’s like the outback has claimed every inch of this place with its touch, the copper dirt covering every surface. The sun has bleached the buildings, leaching the colour out and leaving behind a washed out version of the shade it used to be.
My fingers itch to paint it. I can think of a dozen different techniques I would use to get the orange haze hanging in the air just right.
“Let’s get a wriggle on, Miss Garraway. We’ve got plenty to do and not much time to do it. The first Alpha is coming round for morning tea and he’ll be arriving any minute now.”
