“All mages have an organ called a maginalus, right about here, along the spine,” I say, pointing out the spot on Aimee’sback. “It’s what allows us to do magic. It’s also what gives us the power of our affinities. I don’t know why only omegas have affinities, but my father is trying to change that. He’s been removing maginaluses from omegas with affinities and somehow giving those powers to alphas. I’m a bit fuzzy on that part, but I nearly saw an omega have her maginalus removed up close.”
“And tried to kill her father in the process,” Ian puts in in a proud mutter.
I straighten my spine. “It’s true. There are at least thirty more affinitied omegas confined at the consortium now. Test subjects for my father. No omegas have survived the removal of their maginalus in my father’s experiments, nor is it a priority of his. My father must be stopped.”
“So how do we stop him?” a soft-spoken omega named Holly pipes up from the middle of the crowd.
“And how do we free all those omegas? Saints, I can’t imagine how scared they must be,” Aimee says, whirling back around to face the other omegas, as if asking them for solutions.
“We want to help,” Cora says. “We all worked hard on our magic and affinities in you and your mate’s absence.” She whips out her scribe, calls her magic, and a shield immediately sizzles into place in front of her.
My eyes go wide. Saints, her casting is coming so easily to her now. “Cora…” I beam with pride. “That’s exceptional casting.”
“And we can all do it,” Holly says. “Graeme and Jack have been relentless in our training. But they don’t let us do the really fun magic. The ‘fight back’ kind of magic.”
“Combat magic is a death sentence for omegas,” I say, hesitation in my voice.
“Pft,” Blair says. “What isn’t? Jack told us omegas are being grabbed off the street, mated or not. Make nomistake,” she tells the other omegas. “This is a war. Who wants to fight it with me? With us,” she says, coming to my side.
The crowd bursts into excited chatter as, one by one, omegas raise and light their scribes, pledging their magic, their affinities and their lives to the same cause I’ve been fighting for.
I want to tell them it’s too dangerous, that they could be caught again, put to death, but they’re right. This is a war being waged against us. How could I deny them the right to fight back for themselves and their kind? Their wills have been taken from them time after time throughout their lives. Who am I to do the same?
“Then we all have to train,” Blair tells the omegas.
Ian rubs his hands together. “And we’re starting with the really fun stuff. One of Juniper’s other alphas is an accomplished combat mage. I’m sure he’ll consent to teaching you the ‘fight back’ kind of magic.”
Aimee whoops. “I’m so going to hex every Soldier I see in the balls. Fuckers.”
Fuckers, indeed.
But just as the omegas have to train, so do I.
In the timeI don’t spend with the omegas or catching up in my classes, I train.
The Leclercs have a training room even nicer than the one back at the pack house, and I notice Cassian making mental notes about what ours needs. They also have an in-home gym in the next room over, where I often find Marcus after my lessons. He’s irresistible after a workout, sweat slicking his shirt to his muscular chest, his scent deep and heady. We steal kisses on the work bench, our hands rovingover each other’s skin. It’s one of my newest favorite parts of training—the reward of time with my alpha.
While Cassian is working with the omegas on combat magic, he works on my command with me. I’m steadily making improvements. I’ve learned, like all of my skills, my command works best when my affinity is flowing through me.
“All right,” I muse. It’s becoming more and more challenging to figure out what to command my alpha to do. I’ve sent him from room to room, had him make me a coffee, had him go surprise Simon with a kiss, and had him run a lap around the estate. I’m running out of ideas. I huff out a sigh. “Make a silly face.”
His look of betrayal lasts for a split second before he pulls a funny face.
I giggle. “Another!”
He makes another silly face for me.
When my command has worn off, he groans. “I think I preferred running laps.”
“Wave your hands over your head,” I command.
He does with a long-suffering sigh.
“Now shake your ass.”
I laugh, a deep belly laugh, at his disjointed dance.
“Dance around the room!”
