Unknown Omega

Chapter 10 - Dirk

The four of us stalk closer to the alley, unable to ignore the pull of our heightened instincts.

As we converge on the entrance, disbelief and desire meld together. Our ears pick up a sound we never thought we'd hear.

Especially not from him. Not from Seeck. He's not shy with his opinion on females. He thinks they are too much of a danger to be anything but a quick fuck—something to scratch an itch and nothing more.

He's scratched almost as much as Jumoke, enjoying the company of beta women often. We've interacted with Omegas only when our mission calls for it, and we've always worn our scent blockers—little patches we stick under our noses—when we're required to do more than pass by them. Even with our training, we wouldn't be able to deny our instinct to claim the first unmated Omega we could sink our teeth into, even if she isn't our lifemate.

The sound grows more obvious as we approach.

Vander leads the way down the narrow corridor, but I'm close on his heels.

There he is. Hidden in a darkened doorway, using the shadows to conceal himself. He's sitting cross-legged, hunched over something in his lap. He's molded to the heap of bones and marred flesh, his arms engulfing her tiny frame. He's surrounding her as much as he can, his face in her hair, trying to cocoon her away from the world.

His chest hides her face, but I know who it is. This can't be happening. Her scent has changed drastically. There's no denying the Omega markers now, but last time she smelled of Beta. Even with the improvement, it still seems incomplete, like she's missing puzzle pieces.

He realizes we're there and his purr becomes a snarl. He lifts his head and his eyes clash with Vander's, a growl emitting from his chest.

The myriad emotions and thoughts parading through his eyes is dizzying. One thought wins over the others and his face sets with dark determination.

The power struggle between him and Vander is apparent in their locked gazes. Neither wants to admit that this is happening, but they can't deny that Seeck guards his Omega lifemate in his lap.

Weakness. This new development will affect the entire unit. Now we all have this large gaping maw in our armor. This tiny little Omega could be our downfall. 

She's not part of the mission—not included in any of our contingency plans. This is a big shit storm.

Almost hidden by Seeck's growl, a low keening emerges from the heap of flesh and misery on his lap. While the Alphas around her fight for dominance, her cry intensifies. The partial rumble accompanying it speaks of her Omega dynamic. 

The most feminine, fierce snarl rips from her throat, and motion fills her wretched frame.

She extends her fingernails toward Seeck's face and bucks her body in a ferocious jerk.

Not expecting the movement, Seeck takes the full force of her nails. Her claws dig in, and she scratches from his jawline down to his collarbone.

With a demonic roar, Seeck lifts her up and chucks her across the alley.

Her mottled, wounded skin flashes before my eyes, and before anyone can react, she hits the opposite wall. Her snarling stops, a terrible noise of impact ricocheting through the air.

Vander and I lunge at the same time. Me to the female, Vander to Seeck.

I grab her out of the air, ending her descent. Before I can stand, she's gasping through pained lungs. I cradle her to my chest like a child and look down at her. Her wide eyes blaze in desperation and hatred. She wears clothes at least four times too big for her—the neckline slips down her arm and exposes injured flesh. Her shoulder has a busted welt surrounded by a massive purple-and-green bruise. The wound has reopened, smears of blood and sand covering her skin. Even through that, the bruise is obvious.

Before she's gained her wits, she's growling.

I hug her, hoping to convey safety, and on instinct purr for her.

Her growl stutters, her almost white eyes filling with confusion, then she narrows her focus on me. The searing loathing dims, and her confusion grows.

The bruising on her face has lessened, and swelling no longer hides her cheekbones, but she's pink enough to merit a burn, some areas looking as though they might blister.

Her growl kicks back up, but with less venom. It feels more like self-defense than manic intent.

Her aroma is a terrible, wonderful mixture. She smells of soap, blood, the Chieftain, Seeck, and the enticing lure of Omega. The scent of her release lingers, but the sweet aroma of slick is absent.

I finish rising to my full height and squeeze her against my ribs, encouraging her to snuggle into my purr.

Her growl ceases, but instead of burrowing into the comfort, she starts to struggle. After a moment of wasting energy, she looks up at my face.

Her hand lifts and rests against my breastbone, where my purr is strongest.

"What are you?" her voice emerges, raw and husky.