Marked by Her Scent

Iris Nova transmigrated, and she was reincarnated as a newborn. The world she was reborn into was a strange one, resembling the late stages of an apocalypse where order had just begun to stabilize—a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Plants mutated. Animals mutated. Anything that turned was called a mutant. If a human was attacked and their infection level rose too high, they would twist into something monstrous too. Humans had also changed—or rather, evolved. Evolution took three paths: Alphas—enhanced senses, devastating combat ability. They could manifest predator-shaped spirits to fight beside them. But their instincts and aggression made them volatile, especially during ruts. They emitted pheromones to dominate, claim, and lure Omegas. Betas—the majority. Ordinary. Stable. No strong pheromones. They formed the backbone of labor and daily society. Omegas—strong empaths, immense psychic power. They manifested herbivore or omnivore spirit forms. Their soft, calming pheromones could soothe even the most out-of-control Alpha. Alphas and Omegas were registered and managed by Tarra, the global authority. The number of registered Omegas was less than one percent of Alphas—and the ratio kept falling. Iris had read countless books in her past life. She knew the ABO dynamic. Accepting it wasn't the hard part. But the hard part came when she turned ten and realized she'd been born into a book.A book she'd read. An explicit adult romance. In this world, Omegas calmed Alphas through light comfort (cuddling, touching) or deep comfort (s*x). The original heroine spent the entire novel doing exactly that with a parade of gorgeous men. Good news: Iris wasn't the heroine. Bad news: At thirteen, Iris presented as an Omega. Oh, hell no. Without hesitation, she chose to hide her status. Her father, a doctor, helped her obtain suppressants. Thanks to him, Iris kept her secret until she was sixteen. Then his clinic took in a patient with a deep infection. The patient turned on the spot. Both her parents died. But her father had been cautious. He taught Iris how to compound the suppressants herself. So after sixteen, she made her own. The ingredients were expensive. Without her parents, she had to drop out of school and work. She moved from the suburbs to the city center to earn more. She worked multiple jobs, dawn to dusk. Her effort paid off. She made it to eighteen safely, with nearly six months' worth of suppressants stockpiled. But there was a problem. Her easiest, highest-paying job—working for a man named Silas—had just become dangerous. Silas had presented as an Alpha. To an Alpha, an Omega was like catnip. Iris was only on suppressants, not cured of being an Omega. An Omega's innate pull on an Alpha was just dampened to the point of being subtle—once someone got too close, it would easily expose her. Luckily, she rarely had to be near Silas. But his newly manifested spirit form—uncontrollable and curious—had almost touched her several times. Quit. Must quit. She told the Anderson family's butler she was leaving. Her job was walking three dogs—nothing irreplaceable. The butler agreed easily, but asked her to stay until they found a replacement. No problem—except a week passed, and no one was hired. None of the applicants could win over all three dogs. "Liam, I really need to leave. Can I go today?" Iris was done living on edge. Liam hesitated. "Let me ask the young master." "Alright, sorry to put you to the trouble." "Come with me." Iris hesitated, but she couldn't easily refuse. Silas was swimming in the indoor pool behind the main house. The butler told Iris to wait outside while he went in to report. She leaned against the wall, exhausted, her thoughts drifting. If I lose this job, I'll need another fast. In this wasteland, without connections or special abilities, high-paying jobs are rare. If my income drops, the suppressants run out. Then exposure. Then—being forced to comfort multiple Alphas, and Tarra's punishment for hiding my status. A shadow flickered at the edge of her vision. She looked up. A Black Belgian Malinois sat just inside the door, head tilted, watching her. Silas's spirit. Iris tensed. She stood straight and took a step back. The Malinois immediately rose and padded toward her, dark eyes bright with curiosity. Silas had just presented as an Alpha; his spirit was mature in form but childlike in mind—curious about everything. "Good dog," Iris whispered. "Go back." The Black Belgian Malinois didn't go back—instead, it came charging right at Iris. It had seen Iris before, always with the three dogs. It thought she looked soft and sweet-smelling and wanted to cuddle—but it hated those dogs. Now she was alone. Yes. Cuddle time. The Malinois bounded forward, knocked Iris flat, and nuzzled into her, breathing in a faint, delicate scent that made it whine with pleasure. Then it licked her face and neck. Soft. Sweet. Love. Love this so much. —— Inside the pool house, Liam paused mid-sentence, confused by his young master's sudden silence. Silas pressed a hand over his nose and mouth. His cheeks and ears flushed pink. He glanced toward the door. "Never mind. Let Iris stay. If she still wants to leave, raise her pay until she's satisfied." After all… his spirit clearly adored her.