Page 79 of Desperate Omega

“Stop!” I shout.

To my surprise, Hadrian actually does stop. At first I can’t believe it. Then I realize that Delphine shouted at the same time I did—and she shouted the same thing.

She’s sitting up now, bracing herself against Anton for support. She has one hand stretched out toward Hadrian, gesturing for him to halt his attack.

“Don’t kill him,” she says. “It will ruin the game.”

“But he hurt you,” Hadrian protests. “We must punish him, mistress.”

With Anton’s help, Delphine climbs back to her feet and stands in front of Thorus. She stares up at the hanging alpha for a moment, then shakes her head.

“That alpha’s not afraid of dying,” she says. “He’s not afraid of pain, either. But there is one way we can punish him.”

She turns and approaches my cell again, walking with a slight limp from her fall. I’m tempted to taunt her, but I know that wouldn’t be wise. I’m pretty sure Thorus would be the one to get punished for my insolence, and I don’t want that. He looks like he’s already been through hell and back at the hands of the Farlanders.

Delphine stops in front of my cell and looks me up and down. She isn’t smiling anymore.

“You’re still in heat,” she says. “I can tell by the effect your scent is having on your two mates.”

She’s right. I can already feel the terrible need twisting at my insides again. I think the tranquilizer dulled it a little, but now that the drug is wearing off, I can feel my heat returning—and it’s returning with a vengeance.

She’s also right about the effect my heat is having on my mates. Now that Delphine is no longer touching him, Thorus is fully erect again. I don’t even have to turn around to know that Brik is similarly aroused. I can smell it in his scent, which is filling the air around me, driving my own arousal higher by the moment.

“Game time,” Delphine says. “The rules are simple. If you need to satisfy your heat, you may employ the services of the alpha locked inside the cell with you. But there’s a catch—as soon as you so much as touch him…”

She glances back at Thorus.

“…your other mate dies.

CHAPTER 33: SYRA

The first few hours aren’t too bad. I can feel my heat gathering inside me—burning, rising—but the urges are well within the range of what I’m able to control. I just sit by the wall of my cell with my legs drawn up against my chest and focus on the feeling of Markus in my heart.

He is far away now, so very far away, and it hurts me, but I know that’s a good sign. It means he must have outrun his Farlander pursuers. Perhaps he’s even made it back to the Central Ruins by now? It’s hard to be sure. I conjure up a map of the Zone in my mind’s eye. I picture the location of this abandoned prison. I estimate the distance to the Central Ruins. I try to calculate how quickly an alpha would be able to run that distance.

Maybe…

All I have to do is hold on until Markus returns with help.

And what if he doesn’t return?

He will. He has to.

As the sun goes down, the shadows within the prison deepen until it is almost too dark to see. I welcome the darkness, because it hides my nakedness from the many males standing outside my cell.

“Let’s get some light in here,” Delphine says. “We don’t want to give this omega slut a chance to cheat at our little game.”

I glare at her in the darkness. There are a lot of unkind things I would like to say to her right now, but I choose not to. No point in provoking her. Better to keep my mouth shut and try not to think about my building arousal.

Torches are lit. They crackle and sputter. Orange light shines through the bars of my cell, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. The smell of fuel and smoke is strong in the air, but not strong enough to cover up the stench of the Farlanders—or the heady odor of my steadily increasing arousal.

Or the scent of Brik, chained and kneeling at the back of the cell.

I’m sitting as far away from him as possible, up near the front of the cell, by the bars. I don’t want to do that. I would much rather sit near him. I would love to feel the comfort of his strong, masculine presence, and maybe even listen to the soothing purr of his voice.

His scent, however, is a problem. Even at a distance, it’s infecting me with desire, filling my mind with images of all the things I want to do to him, all the ways I want to touch him. I’m afraid if I move closer, those urges will get even stronger.

So I sit at the front of the cell.