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“It isn’t as strong as when appa left, but it should settle your stomach,” I say with as much assurance as I can muster.
It’s a lie. My father left an emergency stash, but it wasn’t meant to last beyond a day or two. Without proper storage, the effectiveness of his offering diminishes with every passing second, but omma refused to drink it when it was most useful. Now, all I can hope for is a boost to her morale when she tastes him.
Pregnant omegas need a steady supply of their mate’s seed to survive the rapid growth of their offspring. I wouldn’t have dipped my finger into the cup if I wasn’t so desperate, but I’ll do anything—anything—to get nutrients into her.
She obediently parts her lips and accepts a spoonful, but the color drains from her face. I lean forward and roll her onto her side just in time to prevent her from vomiting all over herself.
The cup teeters off my leg and splashes the last of the broth onto my side and over the floor.
I rub my mother’s back and make little hushing sounds as hopelessness sweeps through me.
Her arms look more like flesh stretched over bone than the healthy, vibrant woman of three months ago. When she lifts her head, her sunken eyes focus on the hole in the wall. Hidden from the outside world by a massive, broken generator, our tiny hideaway has such a narrow opening my appa can barely squeeze through sideways.
I understand why my father chose this location as I find what holds my mother’s attention.
A giant stands on the other side. His body blocks the entire opening, revealing only a strip along his leather-clad torso. His muscular neck and sharp chin support a mouth curled in a cruel smirk. A vicious scar mars his lips and travels up his cheek to cut through his eyebrow and end on his forehead. At the top of the hole, a single grey eye peers through and traps me in place.
Liquid terror flows through my veins, turning my blood to acid.
Even without the scar on his face, I’d know who he is by the animalistic fury in his gaze.
He’s the monster my appa has been hiding from my entire life. The alpha who lords over the entire ship.
The Destroyer.
Chapter 2
Fore
Terrified almond-shaped eyes widen as the tiny female lifts her gaze to mine. With long, straight, black-as-midnight hair framing her delicate, dirty features, the youngling looks like a miniature version of the omega I once planned to claim.
Retching pulls my attention to the pathetic mound of fabrics behind her.
There she is. The omega who shattered my dreams, but she’s no longer the bright, innocent female I remember. She’s pale and sickly. Weak and vulnerable.
The tiny version of her steps between us. My delight soars as the younger female sets her dainty features into a glower, squares her shoulders, and tilts her chin in challenge.
Hunger grips me. Lust pulses down my spine and pools between my legs. My shaft hardens. The urge to conquer, break, and mold the intriguing little beauty to my will roars through my veins.
“I’ve found you, Sera. Come out and maybe I’ll let your offspring live,” I snarl through my hatred.
Sera wraps her white fingers around her youngling’s sleeve and hangs onto the filthy fabric as though her life depends on it.
Her soft, weakly whispered no vibrates with horror. After an audible swallow, Sera’s listless voice barely filters through the noise above us. “Where’s my Ru? What have you done?”
I growl and grip the edges of the closet’s only opening. My gloves protect me from the jagged metal, but I would gladly tear my hands to pieces if it meant I could wrap them around Sera’s throat.
“That traitor did what he does best. He caught one whiff of me and ran off. He left you, Sera,” I say, letting my evil grin widen as the scent of feminine fear punches into my nostrils.
“Appa would never leave us.”
The angelic voice carries a faint, bastardized version of her mother’s accent. I sneer as pleasure runs through me.
“Are you willing to bet your life on him?” I sniff again and chuckle. “Better yet, are you willing to bet your mother and her unborn babe’s life on him?”
She bares her teeth and hisses, solidifying her fate.
I must have her.
