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Even still, being an omega should’ve been my get-out-of-jail-free card. I should have been enrolled in omega classes at one of the Omega Conservation Centers in America. With omegas making up less than ten percent of the population in the United States, the OCC had set up several campuses across the country to help omegas learn to handle their designations and biological changes while allowing them to meet potential packs to bond with.
Omegas were protected. Revered, even.
When my best friend, Calla, had presented as an omega on her sixteenth birthday, her family had thrown a massive party in her honor. I’d been there, giggling alongside her as young and old packs tried to snag her interest, all while her fathers and brothers kept them from being inappropriate.
Calla was even nicknamed the Dutton princess in some circles because of how loved and adored she was by her family. She wanted for nothing, and she genuinely loved being an omega. The instructional classes with her private designation tutor were the highlight of her week, and she loved the debut balls that were frequently hosted for omegas.
Sure there were some countries where omegas were bartered and traded like cattle, but American omegas had it good. And that should’ve been my life, too.
But no. Instead, the High Alpha, an aging alpha who thought the world should bow to him because he heard voices, declared I was the chosen one. Some divine gift from above to further his lineage, and I must be kept under lock and key no matter what.
It sounded like the twisted plot of one of those daytime soap operas my mom used to watch, but it was all too real.
Today was just another day spent serving my life sentence in hell for a crime I wasn’t even sure of.
The High Alpha’s gaze snapped to me. “Leave us.”
Morris and Jordan exchanged uneasy glances, but Morris was the one who spoke up again. “Sir?—”
“Leave. Us.” His alpha bark snapped them into movement. Morris shot me one last look, his green eyes simmering with fury as, seconds later, he closed the door obediently and they were gone.
I whimpered, the sound rolling through the space.
“Shh,” the High Alpha crooned, moving to the edge of the bed. His gaze tracked down my body, heating and lingering. A moment later he began to reach for me, then snapped his hand back with a dark chuckle. He shook a finger at me. “I know what you’re doing, temptress.”
I wanted to sob, but I swallowed down the sound and willed my traitorous body to chill the eff out before I begged him for his knot.
With a shaky laugh, he stepped back. “It would be so easy to end our mutual torment, but you need to remember what it feels like to be absent from my touch. Remember these days, of what hell you’ll force us both to endure if you don’t behave as is befitting of my wife.” His eyes glittered. “Soon, I’ll claim you and then we’ll never be parted.”
Grinding my teeth together, I didn’t speak. Barely breathed. It was the worst sort of torture to both hate and crave the man.
“But I wonder…” He spoke the words so softly I almost missed it, but I couldn’t help but stare, wide-eyed, as he reached for me again. Two fingers gathered some of the slick coating the inside of my thighs.
I cried out then, my over-sensitized body desperate for more as my soul threatened to shatter. It felt like bugs skittered under and over my skin, my stomach clenching as bile rolled up my esophagus. I watched, helpless, as he lifted the fingers to his lips and sucked them clean, his eyes drifting shut as he savored my essence.
Disgust rippled through me, even as I felt more slick gathering between my legs. Gritting my teeth, I hissed a breath that turned into one of those needy, whining sounds. His eyes snapped open, raw desire melting into feral fury. His hand shot out again, slapping me across the face and wrenching my head to the side. My cheek throbbed. “You will not tempt your master with your whines, omega,” he seethed.
As if this was all my fault. Tears flooded my eyes, blurring my vision. God, this just wasn’t fucking fair.
Visibly trembling, he backed away from me toward the door, chest heaving. He jabbed a finger in my direction. “I will be strong for us both and resist your carnal urges.” His eyes swept the length of me again before he spun and stormed out the door, leaving me alone.
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or even more desperate than before.
But one thing I was sure of?
No way in hell would I be his fifth wife. Even if I died trying, I was getting the hell out of here.
4
Jude
“Fuck,” Jordan groaned as we entered the beta barracks. He squeezed his crotch with a grin at me. “Come on, Morris. You can’t tell me that bitch didn’t get you hard. Feels like I’m walking with a club between my legs, man.”
I’d seen Jordan in the showers and knew, for a fact, he was working with a twig, at best. Grunting, I brushed off the urge to slam my fist into his jaw. Instead, I went to my bottom bunk and sat down, ignoring how the name Morris grated on my last fucking nerve. “Not my thing.”
“Omega cunt isn’t your thing?” Jordan scoffed. “Gimme a sec to rub this out. Can’t wait until the High Alpha gives me my own wife. I’ve got my eye on Johnson’s daughter.”
Aaron Johnson was another beta guard at the Alpha Protection Alliance, and his oldest daughter was fourteen. The youngest was ten, and honestly, it was a crap shoot guessing which one Jordan was angling to claim.
