Page 54 of Desperate Omega

He wouldn’t be if he knew the rest of Markus’s story.

Earlier, while Brik and Syra were bathing, Markus told me the reason he abandoned his pack. I’m tempted to share that information with Brik now, in order to ease the tension between them, but I decide not to. For one thing, Markus shared that information in confidence. It is his story to tell, not mine. More importantly, if the two young alphas are going to reconcile with one another, it is up to them to do so on their own. I cannot force them to do that.

There is only one person who can help bring those to hard-headed young alphas together, and right now she is sleeping.

I turn and look down at Syra where she lies curled amid her nest of furs. Her bare skin practically glows in the firelight. She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful and precious omega in all the Zone. For a moment I can scarcely believe I’m about to leave her to pursue the Farlanders.

But then I remind myself of my duty as a ranger.

If my suspicions are true, then the Central Ruins, and even the Source itself, may be at risk. And without the Source, none of us can survive. Not me. Not Brik and Markus. Not Syra.

Sometimes, in order to protect that which is most precious to us, it is necessary to leave it for a little while.

At least I know I am leaving Syra in capable hands.

I stand over her nest a moment longer, drinking in the sight of her sleeping form, allowing her beauty to fuel me for the mission upon which I am about to embark. Then, without a word, I turn away from her and move down the corridor which leads out of the cave.

It is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

CHAPTER 23: SYRA

I wake up feeling sore but good.

It’s the same soreness I always feel after returning home from a hard but successful hunt. A warm, satisfying ache deep within my muscles letting me know I have pushed my body to its limits, and now it is growing stronger in response. There is something familiar and comforting about that kind of pain.

But I have other aches that are less familiar. There’s the ache in my backside, for example. That one’s closer to the surface, a kind of tenderness in the skin that almost reminds me of a sunburn, though it’s been years since I’ve gotten one of those. And then there’s the soreness between my legs. A deep throbbing ache that almost verges on pleasure.

Then the smell hits me.

The scent.

It is a heady mixture of fur and smoke and sweat and sex—a dirty smell, but a good one—and the effect it has on my body is immediate and intense. Every part of me that can become erect does so. Goosebumps stipple my skin. Slick flows.

Memories race through my mind. Memories of all the dirty, shameful things that happened here in this nest. I relive the sting of Thorus’s palm spanking my bare behind. The softness of Markus’s tongue writhing against my tingling clitoris. The hardness of Brik’s erect shaft sliding against my tongue, and the even greater hardness of his knot pressing against my lips as he filled my mouth with spurt after spurt of his thick, hot cream.

Then I remember the climaxes which the alphas forced me to endure, one after another for hours on end until the pleasure was unbearable and my throat was raw from screaming.

Yet somehow, that was still not enough to end my heat. I want more, and I want it now.

I want my alphas.

I need them.

I sit up in my nest and look around the cave, the walls of which are lit by the warm yellow glow coming from the crackling fire in the middle of the room. A haze of smoke clings to the ceiling like a small storm cloud. A figure is hunched by the fire, feeding more fuel into the flames. Even though his face is turned away from me, I know it is Markus. I can recognize him by his scent, and by the pattern of muscles on his back, which I memorized with my fingers when he was on top of me and inside me.

Brik is a few paces away, sitting on a crate by the wall. He is holding a piece of dried meat in one hand, and he is carefully shaving off thin strips with a knapped stone blade. I can smell the savory aroma of it from here.

I also catch a whiff of blood.

When I look more closely at Brik’s left arm, I notice he has added several more notches to the row of scars there. I’m not sure what that’s all about, but I assume he must have done it while I was asleep. Even though I didn’t sleep for long, those cuts are already scabbed over and halfway healed.

As I watch those two alphas working, I remember the way they shared me and penetrated me earlier. The memory is so vivid, it sets off a miniature orgasm within me, and an involuntary whine escapes my lips.

Instantly, and in perfect unison, the two alphas snap their eyes in my direction.

They look like a pair of wolves who have just spotted some wounded prey.

They are faster than wolves. So fast, I hardly even see them move. I blink, and they are here in the nest with me, one on each side, both naked, both erect, their skin warm and scented with masculine desires. Their hungry mouths are at my throat. Their teeth graze, their tongues lap. They growl and snarl like ravening beasts while they feast upon my bare flesh.