My cellmate snaps his fingers to draw my attention back and holds up the ball. “This is a basketball. You bounce it on the ground, then throw it through the hoop up there.” Al demonstrates, the ball making a dullthunkevery time it hits the ground. “Your turn.”
He throws me the ball, and my hands wrap around it automatically like it’s a thick neck.
“Not bad. Now can you dribble it?”
I look from him to the ball. Dribble? Like what he did earlier on the grass? I moisten my mouth and let the liquid fall onto the ball.
“Ah, fuck no, Zack. You idiot!” Al shouts, snatching the ball. He wipes it on my shirt and then does the bouncing thing again. “This is dribbling. Bounce it.”
Turns out Al is a very stupid man, because that’s not what dribbling means, but I let it slide. As he shows me how to throw the ball up toward the hoop, a strange flutter lands in my chest. I freeze in place and look around. The movement grows, coming louder even though my ears hear nothing. My chest hitches as the bond rattles inside me, seething with anger.
“Ohm!” I shout, dropping the ball and spinning.
A second flood barrels into me, stealing my breath as White Mine’s distress joins hers, followed by a fanned heat, as if I sat directly in front of the car heater on full blast.
Al picks up the ball and turns back. “What’s wrong now, you freaking toddler?” he mutters.
I hold my shirt away from my body, searching for air. The hot sensation creeps up my throat, squeezing me from the inside out. I stagger and gasp.
“Hot.” Even as the words spill through my snarling lips, I know I’m not the one overheating. “Ohm is burning. In here.” I slap at my chest, and tear the shirt down the middle, trying to release the painful sensation.
“Oh, great.” Al throws one hand up in the air. “Just fucking great. Your omega is probably in heat, pal.”
I grab him by the shoulders and shake him hard. “Where? Where is ohm-ga?” Terror explodes in my chest and I stumble as I reel away, the sunlight in the yard flickering ominously. Did someone hurt Red? She’s so afraid I can’t breathe from the strength of what clutches her. I must get to her right now.
Chain fencing cuts my blind run short and I bounce, shouting with rage. Someone laughs at me, and I turn on them, my hands digging into flesh. It’s not enough so I drag my fist back and swing, screaming for my ohm. If it weren’t for this prison, I’d be with her.
I collide with the table some alphas were sitting around.
Grunting with effort, I lift the whole thing and hurl it at my closest foe. Shouts echo in my ears dimly as the desperate need to see Mine steals every other thought.
And then the force pouring into me shifts, the alarm suddenly mingled with desire, like when I take my pack to bed after Iask. I stagger, slamming into someone’s shoulder. I only have a second to register the change because something small and hard pummels my back, raising such an intense pain I scream.
When I whip around, a second tiny object hits my chest. It stings like a piece of me has ripped free of my skin. A projectile cuts through the air and I sidestep it, following the path up to the roof. Guards on the towers point long sticks my way, and another projectile speeds through the air. I’m not quick enough this time and it strikes my thigh, my leg immediately giving way under a burst of agony.
Guards swarm, forcing me onto my face in the grass while pinning my hands. I thrash and roar, but I can’t fight off a group of them, not when they have weapons in their hands. I turn my head, foam coating my lips as I writhe helplessly.
The alphas who aren’t sprawled moaning in the dirt all line up against the wall with their hands on the brick. Al glances over, fear burning in his gaze.
A solid boot connects with my ribs, forcing a sharp gust of air through my throat. “Get him into solitary,” a guard snaps.
Whatever is happening to my ohm-ga, I can’t do a thing about it as they drag me through the door into darkness.
Chapter fourteen
Red
A bird’s shrill chirp disturbs my sleep, and I roll onto my side with a mutter and pull the covers higher. But the noises in the room continue: cracking seed, soft footsteps, a conversation muffled by walls. For a moment I think I’ve fallen asleep on the couch at home, but then the faint ache in my body and a coating of sweat sticking my clothes to my legs registers.
I’m at the Omega Center, and I was having my heat. I flip back the blanket and force my eyes open.
“Hello, Biscuit,” Rickon croons, stroking my forehead. “Take it slow.”
“How long?” I croak, my throat dry.
“You’ve been under for three days. Your temperature dropped a few hours ago, but you might still feel warm.”
That’s an understatement, but I nod and press his hand down harder onto my brow. He feels cool and soft.
