Claiming His Omega

Emma Winters

“What to wear, what to wear”. I pondered that great mystery as I dug around my backpack looking for something clean.

My name is Emma and I’m a runt, an omega runt from the New Moon pack. I’ve been on my own since I was thirteen. I was abandoned as a small pup and shuffled around from one foster family to the next until I ran away from my b***h of a foster mom. I’m doing great despite my rough start. I’m proud of the things I’ve accomplished on my own, especially since it’s been an upward struggle. I’ve got a sweet little studio. To be honest, not that sweet, it’s pretty dingy and in a bad area but it’s mine. I worked hard for my own home, I’ve worked hard for my grades, I’ve worked hard for my tech toys. I’ve worked even harder to make a name for myself.

I’m not letting my struggles get me down. I work odd jobs mostly online to buy what I need and I don’t need a lot. I’m currently in high school, my senior year. Grades are stellar. It’s kind of secret but I’m actually really smart. No one would guess that I am in the top five students at my school.

I don’t have any friends and that’s fine. It’s not like I need them. I would like to have them, but it is what it is. I’m mostly isolated from other students, partially from some asshat who has been targeting me since high school started and partially from self isolation, but that’s fine too. I mean screw it, it’s not like I have that much longer to go. I just need to make it to the end. Most omegas just end up in dead-end jobs or working for the pack doing menial jobs, but not this girl, Nuh huh. I have big plans. My thing is information technology. I’m good with a wide range of technical skills, but my passion is security. Someday I’m going to use these skills of mine to climb the ranks in my pack and score myself some sweet job sitting on my ass.

Packs are big on security. Ever since the big war a century ago, humans, werewolves, lycans and other shifters have been living in a comfortable truce. With technology advancing daily and cameras everywhere, it was impossible for shifters to remain hidden and eventually we were outed. It didn’t go well at first, but it all turned out alright in the end. People accepted the fact that the friend they had since elementary school could shift into a wolf or Lycan. Humans worked alongside shifters; bonds were forged, friendships made, governments continued its course. Shifters even openly married humans. I’m half shifter. My mom was a human and when that happens, you usually get an omega. Most Omegas can shift, but being a runt, I can’t.

The world mostly stayed the same, with the exception that shifter territories have been established. It’s like an extra government within the government. Alphas are our pack leaders and control shifters in that territory. We don’t even have rogues anymore, they just blended in to territories or created bonds amongst themselves with humans. In the past, packs would fight to the death to establish territories or take over other packs, but that’s extremely rare now. It’s now more of a digital or corporate warfare. Since most packs now dealt in trade and businesses, information is what could take down a pack or elevate it.

I deep sigh as I pull out a black t-shirt and take a big whiff, at least it doesn’t smell. Not like anyone was going to notice me, anyway. I’m full of anxiety this morning and torn, hoping to be noticed at least once by anyone really and at the same time I’m praying to the Goddess that no one notices me. Today is my eighteenth birthday and I might meet my mate, and that fills me with both dread and excitement. I don’t know if I’m getting a male or female mate since I’m bi, I really don’t care which one I end up with. My whole life I’ve hoped to meet my mate, someone to love and to love me back, someone to chase that deep loneliness away and maybe eat ice cream with me in a blanket fort. But at the same time, I know the chances of being rejected are high. I’m an omega runt. It’s not like anyone is lining up to hook up with omegas.

I have other s**t going for me, not height. I definitely don’t have that. I’m 5’3 and smol, I have squeezed myself into places trash pandas couldn’t get into. I wouldn’t say I’m curvy because I’m not, but I’m sporting a B cup and a little bubble butt with a flat belly, so I’m good. I’m obsessed with my boobs, but what girl isn’t? You girls can’t tell me you haven’t felt your own boobs up at one point or another, don’t lie. My hair is brown, medium length and clipped short on the sides and it pairs well with my hazel eyes and light skin. I’ve got that straight sharp nose perfectly proportioned over my thin yet shapely pink lips. Overall, I don’t think I’m bad to look at. I’m not winning any pageants or anything because I’m not the most feminine, but I’m not going to be beat back with a stick. I’m comfortable in my own skin.

I grabbed my black t-shirt and skinny jeans and throw everything on. With a sigh, I pull on my beat up converse, the bottoms have finally worn through. I’ll need to buy another pair of shoes later. I grab my phone, backpack and oversized hoodie and I leave my little studio. If I’m early enough, I can score some of that sweet free breakfast at school.