Page 30 of Ruined Omega

I rise to go, turning toward the hidden entrance of the old mineshaft that is hidden a few hundred yards away, concealed beneath a cluster of boulder and scrubby vegetation. The tunnel itself extends one mile underground. It passes beneath the Quarantine Wall, so I can return to the Zone. That’s where the shelter is.

But just as I start to move, a new sound reaches my ears. At first it’s just a low hum, nearly imperceptible, vibrating at the very lowest level of audibility. Gradually the sound grows until it is a nearby rumble.

I turn, muscles tensing, nose testing the air.

I don’t smell Tal, and that puts me on edge.

But I do smell something else. An Outsider.

A female Outsider.

It’s the target!

But if the target is here, then where the hell is Tal? Shit, this isn’t good…

Moving cautiously, I stalk toward the sound of the idling motor. I try to move stealthily, but it’s impossible under these conditions. The mud sucks at my bare feet with wet, squelching sound.

As I trudge forward, a shadow appears between the dull ribbons of rain. A few more steps and it resolves itself into a shape. A motorcycle with a single tiny figure huddled on top. One more step, and I can finally make out some details.

My heart stops, seems to rise physically into my throat.

My skin prickles with an electric chill that has nothing to do with the rain.

My cock bucks beneath my loincloth, thickening and throbbing with bloodflow.

I’ve never seen an Outsider before. Not up close. Sure, I’ve seen and smelled the guards who run about on the parapets of the Quarantine Wall, but only from a distance. And of course Lily and Sloane were Outsiders once, but by the time I met them, they had already become omegas. But this tiny female shivering on the seat of the motorcycle is the first real Outsider I’ve ever seen up close and personal.

Source, she is beautiful.

It’s a beauty so sharp and dangerous that it pangs, like a knife blade slipped between my ribs. And that knife is given an agonizing twist as I see how desperate and vulnerable she is.

She is bundled in a thick leather cloak and soaked to the bone, her muscles shuddering with cold. Her brown hair is stained dark with rain and plastered to her pale, freckled cheeks. Her eyes—a lovely shade of hazel edged with green around the iris—are rounded into circles of fear. Her blue lips tremble. Rain streams down her face and drips from her chin.

A wave of protectiveness surges over me. My heart starts beating again double time. All other thoughts—of the Zone, of the pretty young omegas there, of that business with Azia—all of that is wiped away, replaced with a solitary, single-minded need.

I must protect this woman.

I must make her safe.

My feet move of their own according, carrying me forward through the sucking mud. My arms stretch out to gather up her shivering body.

The female flinches away from me. A tiny gasp escapes her delicate lips.

I have startled her.

I approach more slowly, as one would approach a frightened, wounded animal. When I speak, I give my voice that low, rolling chest-purr that works so well for soothing an omega’s apprehensions. This female is no omega, not yet, but the noise seems to have the desired effect.

“Easy,” I tell her, “I mean you no harm…”

She flinches again, but allows me to rest my hands on the shoulders of her leather garment. I realize that it is Taliesin’s old coat, part of his Outsider disguise.

“What happened to Tal?” I ask.

Her blue lips quiver. Her voice stutters as she struggles to speak. It takes her a few tries before she finally forms the word.

“Dead.”

Another chill rolls over me, and my heart drops. Can it really be true? Is Taliesin dead? He and I were never on the best terms. He was cold, aloof. And he clearly didn’t care for my way of life. Nevertheless, the news of any tribesman’s death is a sorrowful thing. Whenever one Alpha dies, we all die a little with him.