Nudity isn’t a big deal among wolves, but I still keep my eyes fixed on the ground. No point in making things worse by drawing attention to myself. Once I’ve removed all my clothes, I cup my hands in front of my groin and wait.
By tradition, the pack shifts only on the Alpha’s command tonight.
The pull of the moon buzzes through my limbs and I clench my teeth to hold back my shift until the proper time. Maybe I can just run into the woods before anyone catches the scent of my wolf…
“Shift!” roars Randall.
The command rolls through my body and through the entire pack, twisting limbs, bending backs, cracking bones. Unlike my prior shifts, this one, called up unwillingly by the Alpha, feels unnatural—andreallyfucking painful. By the time I’m finished, it’s all I can do to stay on my feet and not curl into a whimpering ball. Dizziness runs through me and I stumble to the side, shaking my head, now on four legs. I can’t focus, my stomach twisting and roiling as I fight to hold my dinner in. All I can concentrate on is the pain in my limbs and this horrid feeling of wrongness.
I shake my head again, as if trying to clear away the mental fog. There’s something I’m forgetting, something I meant to do…what was it?
Too disoriented to pull my thoughts together, I stand there with the others, wobbling on my feet, and hoping this awful feeling passes quickly.
None of my other shifts—
Oh shit.
I need to run.That’swhat I was supposed to do as soon as I shifted. I glance around at the rest of the pack. Everyone else seems just as disoriented—because of the command?—so I might still have a chance. Spinning around, I start toward the edge of the clearing. Before I can make it even three yards, someone growls and a furry shoulder slams into my side, pushing me to the ground.
Luke’s large reddish brown wolf looms over me, as close to a suspicious look as a wolf can manage on his face. This is likely nothing more than a show of dominance, but I really don’t have time for it. I whimper loudly and submissively bare my neck, giving him what he wants.
Yes, you’re a big bad alpha and I’m just little old me. I don’t want any trouble. Please, please, please…
He makes a dismissive noise and turns away. As soon as he moves, I jump to my feet and race toward the woods like my tail’s on fire.
But it’s too late.
Even as I register the flare of Luke’s nostrils when I pass him, another wolf’s teeth clamp down on my tail and drag me backward, my paws scrabbling at the ground. A high-pitched whine of terror is the only sound I can make as Alpha Randall uses his grip on my tail to slam me onto my back. He leans down, taking a long sniff at my neck, then bares his teeth. A low growl rumbles up from his throat as he recognizes what type of wolf I am.
An omega, amaleone, something considered at best useless and at worst an abomination depending on who’s telling the story. And even worse than that, I’m a male omega whose dad challenged the Alpha—and lost—only yesterday.
Randall shifts back in the blink of an eye, his face twisted with rage and disgust. He leans over me as I cower with my tail between my legs and my vulnerable belly exposed.
“Shift.” The whispered word vibrates with the same command from earlier, and I’m helpless to do anything but obey.
My fur recedes and my limbs reform, leaving me naked on my back in the dirt with my Alpha towering over me, one of his feet pressing against my ribcage and holding me down. I wrap my hands around his ankle and try to push him off.
“Please. I didn’t—”
“Silence,” hisses Randall as he presses harder into my chest, compressing my lungs. My ribs creak under the strain and I fight to get a full breath, my mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. Blackness creeps along the edges of my vision as tears drip from the corners of my eyes and trail down the sides of my face.
This is it. He’s going to kill me. I knew this would happen, expected it even, but I’d held out at least a little hope that maybe… things could be different.
I’m an idiot.
Randall sneers at me, leaning a little more of his weight onto my body and practically crushing the air from my lungs. Something cracks in my chest—a rib, most likely—and Randall finally lifts his foot away, disgust twisting at his lips. I roll to my side, curling into the smallest ball I can manage as I cough and fight for air, every inhale bringing a stabbing pain from the broken rib.
“Get up.”
The Alpha command rolls over me and I scramble to my feet, fear and pain making my movements stiff and jerky. My shifter healing is kicking in, but it’s not immediate.
“How long have you known?” asks Randall in a bland voice.
“About a month.”
“And you didn’t run?” He eyes me with something almost like respect. “Did you think your daddy was going to spare you? Did you stick around thinking he was going to win?”
“No,” I say. I knew better than that. My dad never spared me from anything.
