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I screamed, unable to do anything else but feel the insistent press of the vibrator against my pussy, ramping me up into another brutal orgasm. That one, too, was ripped from my body. I could feel slick pouring from my slit, soaking my ass as my pussy spasmed around nothing.
Fuck, this actually hurt.
I’d had orgasms before. When I was a teenager and fooling around with my high school boyfriend. A few at my own hand before I’d come to the APA compound. And in the last few weeks, the High Alpha had managed to coerce a few from me. I always hated myself the next day for letting it happen.
But none of those times had been like this. This was cruel, brutal. My body didn’t know what to do or how to get away from the never-ending barrage of sensations. My clit felt like it was going to break off, and I couldn’t catch my breath. Was this what having a seizure felt like? Being at a total loss of control?
“Stop! Please, stop!” I cried.
But he didn’t. He held the vibrator against my body, tearing orgasm after orgasm from me until I lost count. Until my entire body shook and my chest seized. It never stopped until my body finally gave out, and I dropped into darkness.
2
Hazel
Gentle hands tucked a thin blanket around my shoulders, pulling me from the darkest part of my mind with a gasp. I jack-knifed upright, looking around wildly. The place between my legs was achy and swollen.
“Hazel?” A trembling voice spoke my name, reminding me that I actually had one of those.
When my designation hit, I simply became “the omega.” Like my designation was all the identity I needed.
But once upon a time, I’d had a name.
Hazel Jones.
I turned and looked at the face of the boy kneeling beside my bed, terror in his wide blue eyes. “Hazel… I don’t know what to do.” His dark hair fell around his face in loose waves, hiding the beautiful angles of his nearly perfectly symmetrical face. “You’re bleeding…” He started to tremble. His usual cinnamon apple scent was now closer to burnt apple pie, stress rolling off him in palpable waves.
“I’ll be okay, Logan,” I managed to rasp out, my throat raw from screaming.
Logan looked anything but convinced. He looked terrified and uncertain, but that was nothing new. We both lived in a constant state of fear and apprehension because our omega sides were never able to relax.
Male omegas were like a unicorn. They were extremely rare, but unlike the joy people usually felt when they thought of unicorns, male omegas were seen as utterly useless. Omegas were rare in general, but only women could bear children. Male omegas were infertile unless paired with an alpha female. Finding one of those was like looking for a needle in a haystack the size of the Empire State Building.
So when a male omega was found, they were looked at as a waste of omega genetics. Good for nothing except sex, which was why most ended up in brothels or as escorts.
Logan had shown up nearly a year earlier. He was two years younger than I was and had aged out of a state run facility for omegas the day he’d turned eighteen. OS tended to focus their resources on omegas who would help boost the population, so the rare male omega was still registered and given training, but it was all a joke.
His instructors had informed him that they knew of a pack looking for a male omega. He’d been told that they had no desire for children and were simply looking for an omega to complete their pack.
It was a lie.
A nine hour drive later and Logan was delivered to the house of someone who turned him over to the APA.
When I’d first presented as an omega, I’d heard there was a fight between the High Alpha and Shepherds over him being given the only omega. While the Shepherds followed their High Alpha ninety-nine times out of a hundred, it turned out that when an omega was on the line, alphas got a little crazy.
To appease them, Logan had been brought in. Or, rather, bought.
Now he was just a toy for the Shepherds to play with when they needed to rut.
But at least we had each other.
“Hazel, this is bad,” he told me, his aquamarine eyes flashing with fear.
I swallowed, my throat dry. “I-It’ll be okay. Promise.” I reached out a hand for him, flinching when I felt the muscles in my shoulders pull.
Logan hesitantly laced his fingers with mine, taking care not to touch the raw, scabbed up areas of my wrist.
Sighing, he leaned a shoulder against the edge of my bed from where he sat on the floor. “We’re out of water.”
