Page 18 of His Stolen Omega

“I was dreaming,” he divulged without thinking.

“A nightmare?”

“I was reliving the moment I was given the drug.”

The alpha took a step closer to the bars. “Tell me. What was it like?”

“Why, want to give it a go?” Elm snapped.

“I’m a dominant alpha. What do you think?”

“I think you’re a monster.”

“Because I fucked your ass with a machine?” he clicked his tongue. “You were in heat. You needed knotting. Ah.” The corner of his mouth twisted up almost viciously, a stark contrast to the enigmatic expression he’d been wearing this whole time. “I get it. You would have preferred if I bred you with my knot. If I gave you warm, hard cock instead of the sterile machine.”

“No.” Elm shook his head. “That’s not…no.”

“Too bad for you, I don’t stick my dick into just anyone. I have standards.”

“I’m not omega enough for you?” Wow. Elm really wished he could shut himself the fuck up. Why was he goading the alpha? What the hell was he hoping to gain?

Had the drugs that changed his presentation also messed with his brain?

“It isn’t your secondary gender that’s the problem,” he corrected.

Elm thought back to what had been said thus far. “You called me a test subject,” he realized. “You don’t think of me as a person at all, do you?”

“Don’t take it personally.”

“Not possible.”

The alpha shrugged a single shoulder, making it clear he’d only said the words out of some fucked up sense of decorum.

It was so ridiculous that Elm laughed, a loud, obnoxious sound that cracked against the stone walls and echoed back at him tauntingly.

Another wave of soothing pheromones overcame him, and when he glared at the alpha, the man merely settled back into the chair and pulled out a cigarette case from his pocket. He lit one casually, keeping the flow of pheromones steady, like it was nothing and took no effort at all.

“Leviathan.” Elm recalled the name. “Right?”

“So you know me after all.” He didn’t sound like he was pleased or displeased by that. Didn’t sound like he cared either way.

“Everyone says you’re scary.”

“Oh? And what’s your take, omega?” The Leviathan, the Dominus of the White Frost mafia, stuck the end of the cigarette between his lips and stared Elm down through a trail of thick smoke.

Nope.

Not an angel.

Not even close.

“Everyone,” Elm sighed, “is correct.”

The smile the alpha gave him was sharp enough to cut skin and ten million times more terrifying than the nightmare sex machine.

“Tell me what it was like,” Levi insisted, and seeing no escape from this madness, and frankly too exhausted to keep verbally sparring with him, Elm relented.

“It was confusing at first,” he began, thinking back to that moment, vivid since he’d only just dreamed of it. “Like…when you’re on one of those theme park rides, moving against gravity, and your body is out of sorts and struggling to figure out what’s going on.”