Do aliens do sarcasm? Seems like a yes.
Meanwhile, the chiseled one who had handed me my inhaler stays squatting near me. His intent gray eyes stare into mine. “I am Ziam,” he says, his short blue hair messy in an attractive, beachy way. “I am your charax. And you are Omega OctaviaEndral.” He smiles in a manner probably intended to be kind and reassuring; but I see his unnaturally pointed teeth and press myself back. Their vowels are soft, the language lilting, and if I wasn’t so terrified, I’d probably be able to think of what accent it reminds me of.
His face drops a bit at my reaction, but he clears his throat and continues, “This is Lux. She is our ebondenn. And Atiox is our first, our aleron.Weare your pack now, sweetheart.”
Lux smiles and her loose shirt with a wide neckline, surely to get over those huge curled horns of hers, droops low. The curve of one of her small breasts is visible and I jerk my gaze away.
“Octavia, we shall protect you.” She nods, as if to herself. “We will bring you to your new home, and you can outfit your nest, and we will begin your training.” She smiles, holding out her hand.
“T—training?” I wobble out, my head feeling funny.
Chiseled guy—I meanZiam—nods. “Yes, while you are an omega, your tiny human body is not ready to accept a Celnoe cock in your ass and cunt. Certainly not at the same time,” he says, voice friendly and easy.As if he were informing me of the weather.
I lean farther away, head pressed to the wall as my heart thunders. Stars sparkle in my vision.
The deer antlered guy, Atiox, I remember, crouches down, long black hair sliding smoothly over his shoulders, his face clearly shocked. “She’s not well.”
“She’s just overwhelmed. These bright lights, alphas not of her pack,” Ziam says, “Let’s take her home.”
As they stand, my eyes flutter closed, and blackness surrounds me.
Chapter Ten
Lux
Ihold her little body against mine, still wrapped in the blanket. The Olush medic had given her another once-over when she passed out. Nothingmedicallywas wrong with her. He stated that when more of her medication arrived in a rotation or two, he’d send it on a transport.
There was nothing to do but take her home.
Now in the mobile, we sit in silence as she sleeps, or stays passed out, I don’t know which, in my arms.
Ziam had carefully rolled her head into my body, so that she might start to scent me, to take in my pheromones as soon as possible.
I stare down at her, occasionally brushing her short, oddly yellow hair out of her pretty, round face.
“Fuck,” Atiox finally announces, his gorgeous face lined with worry.
My heart has softened to her already.Poor terrified little thing.
Ziam takes a deep breath, “She’s scared. I suppose it’s understandable. She just needs a little time.”
I nod. “I agree. Even having agreed to this, it still must be strange. Especially for a class C planet inhabitant. They have only known of interstellar life for half a turn or so.”
Hopefully, a nap in Ati’s bed, surrounded by our scent, in her new home, will calm her.
WE HAD TUCKED HER STILL-sleeping little body into Ati’s bed, not the nest in the room on the third floor. We figured being surrounded by our scents would be better for her than an unmade nest.
We had all been lax to leave her, but Ziam had had an especially hard time; he had sat by her head, playing with her silky hair, until I had to bark at him to get him to leave her to her rest. Now downstairs, he digs in the cabinets to make some tea to help ease our nerves.
Ati puts the kettle on the stove, the flame very orange in the dim of the rainy day. The pattering on the clear roof is calming. I watch the large bodies of my packmates, my first and third, as they move around the kitchen silently. Two other strong alphas to keep our omega safe.Safe, sated, secure. Just as she deserves.
And perhaps bred.
Since seeing how happy omega Tristan and his pack was with their kits, it’s been playing in the back of my mind. A few kits running around, teaching to swim in the river, climbing trees and getting their tails into everything. And the thought of my omega, swollen and ripe with our young... that definitely does things to me.
I settle at a stool as Ziam tucks some dried herbs into four strainers and sets each in a mug. The smallest mug is new, one that Ziam threw hastily and fired just the other rotation. It would look silly in our hands, but he had studied the “Care and Feeding of Humans” manual to get a proper size for our omega.
“You’re a wonderful charax,” I offer quietly, knowing Ziam’s desire for praise. “That mug is the perfect size for her.”
