Page 77 of Desperate Omega

I hesitate for a moment, not because I’m afraid of her, but because I just don’t want to do anything that bitch tells me to do. I’m worried, however, that she might hurt Thorus if I don’t comply, so I let go of Brik, rise to my feet, and advance to the front of the cell.

As I move closer to the bars again, I realize that Delphine and her alphas are not the only ones out there. Numerous figures are standing and crouching all along the walkways of the prison, their eyes watching me with a kind of cold hunger. Most of them are keeping to the shadows, so I cannot see them very clearly, but I can certainly smell them. Their rancid, goatish odor nearly makes me gag.

The tranquilizer must have dulled my sense of smell, but now the chemical is wearing off, and my sense of smell is returning.

I kind of wish it wasn’t.

It occurs to me that Brik made the right decision earlier. There are at least twenty Farlanders inside this prison, maybe more that I can’t see, and I’m sure there are even more of them still outside patrolling the perimeter. There’s no way we could have snuck in here without getting killed or caught.

Of course, we got caught anyway, so it really doesn’t matter.

At least Markus didn’t get caught. He’s gone to get help. We just have to survive long enough for him to return with reinforcements. That means I’m going to have to play along with Delphine’s game.

I can do that. I can get through this.

Can I?

I don’t even know what the game is yet.

I stop in front of the bars of the cell, keeping a safe distance just in case Anton or the other alpha should try to make a grab for me. The strength is gradually returning to my muscles, but I still don’t feel quick enough to dodge an attack from an alpha.

“Skin,” Delphine says.

At first, I don’t know what she’s talking about. Then one of her alphas—the one I stabbed—picks something up from the floor outside the cell.

A waterskin.

The alpha hands it to Delphine, who in turn passes it through the bars to me. When I don’t take it right away, she grins.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “It isn’t poisoned. See?”

She opens the waterskin, tilts her head back, and pours a stream of water into her open mouth. Her throat works up and down as she swallows. When she’s finished, she lets out a refreshed gasp.

“It’s good,” she says. “Nothing but cool, clean water.”

She passes it through the bars again, and this time I take it, but I don’t drink.

“I’m not thirsty,” I lie.

“That’s alright,” Delphine says, still grinning. “I didn’t really mean for you to drink it. You’re going to use it to wash off the rest of that shit you’re wearing.”

The shit she’s referring to is the scent-masking paste. Most of it has already been rinsed away from my head and upper body thanks to the several pails of water the alphas dumped on me a few minutes ago, but the stuff still clings to my lower body like a pair of very tight, very dirty pants.

“Go ahead,” Delphine says, staring at my legs. “Wash it off.”

Source, why is she staring at me like that? Does she want to see me naked, or is there some other reason for her excitement?

“No thanks,” I say. “I’m good.”

Delphine glances at the balcony behind her.

“Hadrian?”

An alpha steps out of the shadows on the second-floor balcony. I can tell by his appearance and his piercings that he’s not a Farlander. He’s one of Delphine’s alphas. The one whose penis I injured during our tussle in the barn. He gives me a brief, hateful glare, then he draws a stone dagger from a sheath on his hip. It looks incredibly sharp. He walks over to the place where Thorus is hanging and crouches. He slips his arms between the bars of the railing and places the blade of the knife against Thorus’s throat.

“Stop!” I shout.

There’s no longer any point bluffing like I don’t care about Thorus. Delphine already saw the look in my eye. She already knows that Thorus is my mate. And she knows I’ll do anything to keep him from getting hurt.