Page 10 of Marked Omega

Before I can manage to do so, there is a sharp whistling sound almost like an arrow. Something stings my shoulder.

My first thought is that it is an ambush by the far-lander Alphas. Those wretched corruptions are primitive, typically fighting with sticks and stones. But they have been known to use crude arrows from time to time.

However, as I twist to look, I see that it is a dart that has struck me. It is totally unlike the ones that are sometimes used to hunt small game with blowguns. This dart is made of shiny metal, like the artifacts left behind by the ancestors. Where its tip penetrates my flesh, I feel a searing pain. Then numbness.

My arm falls limp. My muscles grow weak and loose. I slump to the ground with a grunt. The beta lets out a demented laugh.

The last thing I see, before darkness enfolds me is the beautiful auburn-haired omega staring down at me in silent fear.

CHAPTER 5: LILY

My mind is reeling as I try to process everything that just happened.

It’s an Alpha. A real Alpha.

I knew that we might encounter one on this expedition. But I certainly didn’t expect it would be like this.

Now, actually seeing one face to face, it’s almost surreal. Then again, when you are stripped to your underwear and chained to a fucking tree, most things seem a bit surreal.

And describing that encounter as face to face is a bit of an understatement. Just a moment ago, his bulky, hyper-masculine body was pressed so tightly against mine that I felt like he would crush me against this tree. My back sings with pain from the way the rough bark scraped me.

What’s even weirder is the way my body responded to him, crying out for his aggressive touch. A cool breeze ghosts over my chest where he tore my bra open, and I realize that my nipples are almost painfully stiff with arousal. Beneath my panties, the bud of my clitoris is equally erect.

I’ve never had that kind of direct contact with another living being before. His musky scent surrounded me. I could feel every bulge and ripple of his muscles, so hard they felt like there were carved from granite.

And his muscles weren’t the only thing that was hard. His erection was pressing against me through his primitive clothing. I could feel the heat emanating off of it. All I can say is that it’s a good thing Deakon fired that tranq dart when he did. If the beastly Alpha had tried to put that big thing inside me, it would have surely split me in two.

Speaking of troopers, they have come out of their hiding spots now. They are both striding down the grassy hillside, approaching from opposite directions, rifles on shoulders.

“Good shot, Deak,” Chappel shouts.

They may have saved my life, but I’m not at all grateful. After all, they’re the ones who put me into this situation. And as frightening as he is, I know that the Alpha couldn’t help himself. He may look like a human, but I know from my studies that he is just a wild animal, driven by primal urges.

But as I gaze down at his unconscious body, I can’t help noticing that he doesn’t fit the descriptions I’ve read in my text books.

Sure, he is bulky, his body covered in thick, powerful muscles. And yes, he is savage in appearance, his hair longish and wild like a mane. However, all of the sources I have read describe the Alphas as hideous. Terrifying mutants with twisted features.

The man lying on the ground before me certainly doesn’t fit that description. His face is hyper-masculine, with a heavy bone structure, stern brow, and strong, angular jaw. He has numerous piercings—several through the lobes and cartilage of his ears and one large steel ring through his septum. These heighten his look of primitive ferocity.

But his features are handsome. Beautiful even. There is a faint animalism to his broad nose and his lips pressed forward by his overdeveloped canines. However, his face also bears an aesthetic symmetry, like a masterpiece of sculpture, and his bronze skin has a healthy glow that I’ve never seen on a hive dweller.

And then there’s the way those intelligent, speckled gray eyes stared at me hungrily.

He is primal, feral. But he is also beautiful, the way a wild tiger must be beautiful.

And my captors want to put him in a cage.

“Hurry up, Chappel,” Deakon shouts to his fellow trooper. “We need to get this fucker restrained before he wakes up.”

The two soldiers approach from either side. They don’t pay me and Sara any more mind than they would a couple of pieces of meat hanging from hooks.

I’m just bait. They’re only interested in what they’ve caught.

Both men crouch, and with a grunt they roll the Alpha onto his stomach.

“Leave him alone!” I shout, uncertain of what caused that sudden outburst.

As Chappel sets to work restraining the unconscious Alpha’s hands behind his back, Deakon turns and laughs at me.