Every few seconds a shudder wracks through her that's so violent Adam has to adjust his grip, keeping her upright.
They look like two animals cornered in a cage, and it enrages me to no fucking end.
My jaw clenches, putting pressure on my temples.
Every alpha instinct I have, every protective impulse that's been hardwired into my nervous system since the day I presented, locks onto the image of Adam's face and the way this girl is shaking in his arms, and a rage so pure it's almost peaceful settles in my bones.
"Talk to me, Elowen!" Anton's voice cracks with something that sounds less like anger now, and more like fear. "Did he hurt you? Did this fucker touch you?"
"No." The single word falls from her lips, then her body folds and a guttural sound punches from her gut. It’s the raw, involuntary grunt of someone whose body is tearing itself apart from the inside.
I stare at her, taking in the way she clings to Adam to stay upright. My eyes narrow to her black pants, then they widen slightly as I realize the inside of her thighs are wet. Soaked, actually. The dark fabric of her scrub bottoms is glistening with it, the moisture spreading down her legs and catching the light where Adam's shirt rides up.
Then it hits my nose.
It’s so faint that if I hadn't been standing downwind, if the breeze hadn't shifted at exactly this second, I would have missed it entirely. Sweet. Warm. Like overripe fruit left in the sun.
It threads through the chemical nothing coating her skinand reaches the back of my brain and flips a switch I didn't know I had.
Omega.
She's a fucking omega.
Perrin wasn't lying.
Anton goes still, then his grip on Cliff's shirt loosens. His nostrils flare, wide and hungry, and his eyes go glassy for half a second before he blinks it away.He smells it too.
"Run!" Cliff roars. "Fucking run! NOW!"
The guards hesitate, their eyes darting between the two locked alphas and the rest of us, trying to figure out who to aim at and who to chase.
And it’s all the time I need.
I move.
I rip the omega from Adam's arms, duck my shoulder into her midsection, and throw her over my back in one fluid motion. She makes a strangled yelp that turns into a whimper as her fingers claw at the back of my shirt. My free hand shoots out and locks around Adam's forearm, grip tight enough that he couldn't break it if he tried.
Then I run. Dragging Adam with me.
I cut hard to the left, away from the main path, toward the omega holding tents. It's the only corner in this entire camp where no one will risk shooting us. The guards won't risk a stray round hitting a hundred-thousand-dollar asset.
My boots thunder across the packed dirt. Extension cords snap under my feet. I hear footsteps behind me, close and fast. Adam first, his stride light and quick, eating up the ground. Then Perrin, heavier, not as fast, but keeping pace. His breathing is loud and ragged, but he doesn't fall behind.
Cliff isn't with us, but I don't look back.
He can handle Anton and three guards, and whoeverelse is dumb enough to try him right now. That man was born to fight.
So I run harder.
My heart pounds as I cut past a scissor lift, making my way right for the medical tent.
The omega flung over my shoulder whimpers again, and I catch another slip of sweetness flowing off her.
It’s weird.
I was taught that an omega in heat would be pouring pheromones and slick all over the place. But I’m barely picking up this omega’s scent at all. It’s so thin, like a vapor of sweet pears, and each inhale gives me a little more.
And my body is responding.
