Omegaverse drabble - Mel/Frank Kingdon
tw: domestic violence (mel - oc awful mate), omegaverse, part of my widowed Alpha!Frank universe, substance abuse/drug use/addiction.
Abby had been gone for two yeas by the time Frank met Mel. The benzos made him so numb that the blonde Omega that floated into PTMC barely made his eyebrow twitch.
"She'll be a problem," Robby said to him, giving him a knowing look. "She's one of those all-natural types."
No suppressants. No hormones. Just Mel's pure, candy-sweet smell lingering in the halls. But she was mated, and she had a thick black line tattooed around her ring finger that made Frank want to bare his fangs. Ugly. It was so ugly, like someone had taken a felt-tip pen around the base of her digit. Her skin was too pale for that, and it was done so sloppily, like her Alpha had said, hepatitis be damned and did the thing himself with a $200 Amazon kit.
So Mel's Alpha may have had a name, but Frank dubbed him asshole and popped another Xanax and promised himself he wouldn't worry about it.
"You're with me," Frank said to Mel, and ushered her along to shadow him all day, because the pills made his instincts relax.
She's just a girl, he thought.
Someone had already snared her.
When he invited Mel over to a PTMC pool party later that summer, he half expected she wouldn't show. She was a flighty thing, always nervous, glancing around and jumpy. Not steady and calm like a mated Omega should be.
She arrived to his backyard in her jet-black scrubs, hair tied up in a bun. It was August, one-hundred and five degrees, but she refused Frank's invitation to borrow something cooler. He still had all of Abby's clothes hanging up in the closet.
When Mel's Alpha arrived, she stiffened as he hugged her. Her whole body was a line of tension.
Charming, that was the only way to describe him. Tall and lanky, with a broad smile and quick wit. He owned his own law practice. Estates. That's how they'd met.
Suddenly all the pieces clicked into place: this guy had sniffed out Mel in the height of her grief. He probably bit her before the ink dried on the probate order.
Go get her, Frank's instincts demanded. Keep her safe. But only the glimmer of stress in Mel's scent whenever he came near gave him pause.
Go slow, he knew. That's how he'd play this. A slow, relentless campaign to get her free from him. And if she just so happened to land in his bed next, so be it.
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