Page 13 of Shared Omega

Delighted that she took the bait, Donovitch leers at her and makes a lewd jerking motion with his fist.

“I’d settle for a nice tug job. What do you say, Sloane?”

A sudden wave of anger and protectiveness surges through me, and I’m about to threaten Donovitch to lay off before things get ugly, but I notice Sloane is unfazed.

“Sorry, Donovitch,” she says nonchalantly. “I didn’t bring my tweezers.”

I let out a bark of laughter. Donovitch casts a hateful glare in my direction before he turns back to Sloane.

“Shit,” he snorts. “You know what, Sloane, sometimes I think you don’t even go for men.”

Without missing a beat, she says, “I don’t see what that has to do with you, Donovitch.”

Grins start to spread across the other marines’ faces and a few of them chuckle. It takes Donovitch a couple of seconds to get the joke, as his expression transitions from confusion to dawning realization, and finally to anger.

“You want to know what I think?” He sputters, losing his cool.

“Not particularly,” Sloane drawls.

Donovitch grows even more agitated.

“I think you’re just looking to make it with one of those fucking Alphas. Huh, is that your thing? Bestiality? I saw how you were getting all hot and bothered watching that vid in the briefing.”

All the humor has gone out of his voice. His honor has been injured, and he knows he can’t match wits with Sloane, so he’s just going for the lowest blow he can manage. I tense up and clench my fists, feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness.

“I think it’s time for you to give it a rest, Donovitch,” I growl.

Donovitch turns his eyes toward me, and I see them widen with fear as he takes in my tensed muscles and aggressive posture. His face blanches. He’s probably having a little flashback of what happened during the briefing.

“Stand down, Dog,” he commands in a quivering voice.

Instantly, and against my will, my muscles relax, and I settle back into my seat. The deep, warning growl that had been rumbling in my chest cuts off.

I’m used to this sort of thing, of course. It has been a part of my conditioning from the very beginning. If I’m told to stand down, I have no choice but to obey.

Still, obeying a prick like Donovitch is particularly distasteful to me.

As the color comes back into his face, Donovitch sneers at me triumphantly.

“Good Dog,” he says in a mocking tone. Then he turns back to Sloane, who is now watching me with a hurt and puzzled look. “Hell, Sloane, it looks like the feeling is mutual. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this dog here has the hots for you too.”

He glares at me hatefully, again.

“I guess his masters back at SynerGen don’t ever give him any pussy for being a good boy.”

Inside, my brain is itching with irritation and rage. It would be so easy to rip this prick limb from limb. But on the outside, my expression stays calm. I couldn’t attack him even if I wanted to. My conditioning stops me.

But I’m regretting that more and more with each passing moment.

Luckily, another marine jumps in. He reaches over and backhands Donovitch’s shoulder.

“Vitch!” he shouts angrily. “Fucking shut your face and chill, bro. And get ready. We’re getting close to the jump point. We need to all stay focused.”

Donovitch glares at Sloane for another moment, and she returns an ice-cold stare. Then he turns around and slumps into his padded seat like a pouting child.

Some warrior.

Sloane, however, handled herself well. She’s completely unflustered by the whole exchange.