confused and capable of ass-kicking cinnamon roll connor
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It was never the feel of cold snow against his skin, or the sight of white flying down and coating the air, it was always the sound. The sound of a Detroit snowstorm, without fail, left the man's hair standing on edge, eyes snapping shut as he evaded flitting images of screaming omegas, howls carrying in the storm and ringing in his ears even hours after their trails of beaten out blood froze rock solid on the pavement at his feet.
In a world where wars are started and ended by alphas, society at the mercy of their command, omegas are nothing but objects, a commodity for each alphas to do as they please with. After years of dodging the sorting, Hank thinks he'll never have to be mated, but when an omega handler in training is brought muzzled and naked to his doorstep, newly presented and in heat, he realizes resisting his own urges and rethinking his prejudice is harder than it seems.