The door at the top of the stairs rattles as someone collides with it in the distance. I’m startled into smacking my head against the pole that I’m bound to. My skull bounces off like a volleyball, and I lift my hand to clutch it.
Dammit!
A sharp sting radiates down the sides of my head, joining with the swelling on my cheeks to make my whole face pulse in agony.
Inhaling sharply, air sucking between my teeth, I focus on the door to my room as it swings open, and light spills down the stairs behind, making them look like jagged teeth.
Boots clatter on the steps. Alphas pour down in a hurry, shoving one another to get inside.
An eclipse of moths batters the inside of my ribs, desperate to break free. They’re fluttering up in a panic, stirring my heart and pulse into frantic, rippling surges.
I have to be careful.
Otherwise, this plan could go very, very wrong for me.
Maybe I’m an idiot.
This might have been a terrible idea.
After all, this plan doesn’t just hinge on my training from Eros, though the omega scent bomb definitely inspired shoving my panties into that vent.
My inspiration actually springs from a lecture Madame Ellora gave us, of all people.
Her narrowed eyes, pencil skirt, and sleek bob come to mind as I recall her nasal tone. “Never, ever pit your alphas against one another. Particularly when you’rein need.More than one alpha group has been rushed to the hospital…”
Bile singes my throat, and I swallow it down as a flurry of Noth soldiers cascades down the stairs. Black uniforms and feral faces fill my line of sight.
They’re definitely in an alpha frenzy based on their wide-eyed, teeth-baring expressions. And they’re all armed.
The wave of scent that hits my nostrils makes me recoil. It’s potent, tainted, as disgusting as wild boar musk. A gag makes my tongue flinch, and I have to fight off the urge to truly vomit.
Not a single scent among them appeals to me.
My feet curl into my body automatically, the omega instincts driving me to make myself small in reaction to their uninhibited aggression. It’s the opposite of everything I’ve trained for at Eros, and humiliation melts a bit of my pride like it’s made of bloated plastic.
But at Eros, I didn’t face an entire roomful of pheromone-riddled alphas at once. Most of my drills have been single combat. And even group fights were neutral. Restrained.
Practice and reality are different beasts.
The Noth alphas’ combative energy blasts out like heat from a furnace, singing my skin.
Noxious.
Loathsome.
Terrifying.
Blowing out breaths in tiny pulses, I have to fight the desire to hug my chains to myself. Hands trembling, fingernails carving crescents into my palms, I dredge deep to find enough mettle to speak.
“I need an alpha who fights for me.”
The words are barely a breathy whisper.
Fuck.
I don’t think they heard me.
My head is throbbing, and my chest feels like it got mule-kicked as desperate tears blaze in the corners of my eyes.
