My eyes widen in shock.
I struggle to focus on the sea of dark curls that are trailing on the floor, as guards haul the poor Omega through the door.
Why is he unconscious? Has he been shocked like I have?
I wish that I could see the male Omega’s face to at least check that he’s still breathing.
Without intending to, I am growling, deep and rumbling.
The guards drop Seventy-one’s willowy body roughly to the floor of my cell with a crack that makes me wince.
Mr. Baskerville cocks his head. “Interesting. You are protective already. I hope that extends to saving Seventy-one’s life, although I know the details of your background. A criminal killer from a pack like yours may not care enough for a stranger, especially as your mob are known to be especially heartless to Omegas. So, this is why I am gifting this Omega to you. You are forbidden to bond him, but you may rut him through his heats. In a moment, the pheromone blockers in your cell will shut off, giving you access to your uber strength pheromones again. This Omega has been marked as a Rogue not because he is a Switch but because he has a fascinating pheromone imbalance that unfortunately has been untreated. It has led to him falling into a coma. My hypothesis is that your pheromones will pull him out of it and stabilize him.” He shrugs. “It will be an interesting experiment, either way. Statistically, he is still eighty-three percent likely to die by the end of the day.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Cell, ABO Facility
“No Omega is dying this Christmas.” My muscles are still twitching, but I drag myself agonizingly across the metal floor of the cell toward the crumpled figure. “Forget wanting you for ruts. As long as you can hold up a half decent conversation, then you’ll do. Look at me, I’ve only had myself to talk to for weeks now. As brilliant as I am, it becomes boring when I know what I’m going to say. So, you better fucking live. Got it?”
The Omega remains disturbingly silent.
He is dressed in the same simple white clothes as I am, lying face first with black, tangled curls that reach all the way to his waist spread around him.
Is he even breathing?
I grit my teeth and struggle to crawl quicker toward him.
My body aches. My feet feel like they are on fire. My heartbeat is still uneven.
I huff out desperate breaths, battling against the waves of nausea to reach the man quicker.
I have failed too many Omegas. I won’t allow another one to die right in front of me.
What did Mr. Baskerville say?He has a rare type of pheromone imbalance?
What if my pheromones can truly save him?
I thought that my Rogue pheromones could only control and hurt.
That I could only be a killer.
But what if my pheromones can now heal? What if I can be good for once?
I study the Omega, Seventy-one, who is my Christmas present.
How ironic that Mr. Baskerville has now gifted me more than Fiorella ever did.
I can tell that Seventy-one is tall for an Omega, although he is slim.
I grip the back of his shoulders, dragging on his uniform to turn him over. “Hello, Seventy-one. I wonder what your real name is?”
I know that he can’t hear me, probably.
But it helps me.
I stare down at Seventy-one in shock.
He’s beautiful.
