Page 28 of Desperate Omega

Before I have a chance to see who killed him, all hell breaks loose around us. The Farlanders let go of me and Markus so they can face these new attackers.

Markus throws his arms protectively around my body as the whirlwind of violence surrounds us. Blood spatters us from every direction. The air fills with shrieks of pain and the sound of snapping bones.

In a matter of seconds, it is all over.

The Farlanders lie dead around us, sprawled in the grass and draped over the gravestones of the ancestors.

Only two figures remain standing.

Two alphas.

My eyes go first to the one who is standing nearest. He looks to be around the same age as me and Markus, with short brown hair and keen hazel-colored eyes. I’ve never seen him before, but he is dressed like a member of the Central Ruins tribe, with a simple deerskin loincloth, and steel piercings glinting on his face. He has a ring through his left eyebrow, another through his bottom lip, and several more on each ear. His left arm bears a series of short, evenly spaced scars.

As soon as he sees me, his nostrils flare, and I know he is taking in my scent. A sudden bulge pushes at the front of his loincloth, indicating he can smell my heat.

My own body responds to the young alpha’s presence in kind. Even though I am surrounded by death and spattered with blood, even though I am still held by Markus’s knot, my body surges with renewed arousal. I tell myself it is only because of my heat, but that does nothing to lessen the intensity of my desire. My skin fires with lust, and my nipples grow rigid with excitement.

The young alpha moves toward me, only stopping when Markus bares his teeth and snarls a warning. The young alpha returns the gesture, and for a moment I think the fight may not be over.

But then another voice booms through the graveyard. A voice as deep and rumbling as thunder.

“Back off, Brik.”

I turn my attention to the other, bigger male, and my heart skips a beat. I do not know this alpha’s name, but I have seen him once before. His dark hair is silvered at the temples now, and his short beard is flecked with gray, but his stern brow and piercing eyes are unmistakable. I would recognize those eyes anywhere, even though I haven’t seen them in a long, long time.

Nine years, to be precise. The night I fell through the ceiling of the ritual chamber.

He is the one who caught me.

CHAPTER 12: THORUS

Damn. I knew the omega’s scent was familiar, I just couldn’t figure out where I had smelled it before. As soon as I see her eyes, I remember.

I wasn’t even supposed to be in the ritual chamber that night, but it’s a damn good thing I was. Everyone else’s attention was on the boy. He created such a ruckus when he crashed down on top of the alphas standing in the balcony, that nobody saw the girl heading for the ground floor.

Nobody but me.

If I hadn’t caught her when I did, she probably would have broken her neck. How long ago was that? Ten years maybe, I can’t remember exactly. But one thing I do know. It’s been enough time for that little omega girl’s body to change—a lot.

When I caught her that night, she was just a scrawny little thing, all knees and elbows. Now she is a woman grown, and she’s anything but scrawny. Her body has filled out in all the right places, and her feminine curves are impossible to ignore. I can tell, because she’s completely naked.

So is the lucky young alpha she’s got her legs wrapped around.

Lucky because he’s got such a gorgeous omega riding his cock, doubly lucky that Brik and I just saved his dumb ass from those nasty Farlanders. If we hadn’t shown up when we did, things would not have ended well for him and the omega.

Then again, there is still a chance things will end poorly. The fight is over, but my young protege Brik is having difficulty reining in his aggressive urges. He and the other alpha are still snarling at each other like two hungry dogs fighting over the same piece of meat.

I can hardly blame him. The omega’s heat-scent is the strongest I’ve ever smelled. But this is neither the time nor the place for jealousy and competition.

“Brik!” I growl. “I’ve told you once, boy. I’m not going to tell you again. Back the fuck off. That alpha is not our enemy. He’s from the Tribe.”

Brik takes a step back. He knows better than to defy me in a situation like this, but he’s clearly not happy about it.

“How do you know he’s from our tribe?” he asks. “He doesn’t have any piercings.”

“Well he sure as hell isn’t a Farlander. Any fool can see that. What’s your name, son?”

“Markus,” the youth answers.