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“Jesus,” Sierra stands and glances to Balcazar, who’s got nothin’ to say apparently.
It’s Whiskey who I can count on to voice the group’s collective thoughts. “How much…” She swallows, her face gettin’ red before turning white as a sheet. “Did you fuck so hard you lost thirty pounds?”
I glance down and fuck, she might be right. I look thinner than I remember feelin’. Then again, was there a time before bondin’ my Omega? Not sure, but if there was, it don’t fuckin’ exist to me.
I stomp through the door on the right into the mini-kitchen and throw open the fridge. I grab a hunk of meat, don’t know what kind — a leg a’ lamb, maybe? — and start gnawin’ on it as I reenter the office.
Gesturin’ with the bone, I say, “Follow me.”
They glance between each other, but Sierra shakes her head. “Should I cancel the venue? They’re gonna be pissed.”
“Don’t cancel the venue,” Whiskey barks at the same time I say, “Cancel the fuckin’ venue. We’re doin’ it here.”
She throws her arms out to the side and huffs, exasperated, “We don’t have anywhere here to do it. Dragnovic Manor is packed since you moved all the Betas in here, the northeast side is under construction, the garden house is out of the question after you and your Omega ruined it and…”
“Come.”
I take another chunk of meat off the bone, chew, swallow. Bite, chew, swallow. I drop the clean bone off on the carpet as I make my way down the hall. A Dark City bureaucrat squeaks as he nearly trips over it. “Brute,” the Alpha mutters under his breath. I don’t turn and I don’t apologize and I don’t skin him for the insult.
I can hear my Six shufflin’ after me, speaking in hushed tones under their breath as we go down, down through the regular hallways to the large double doors that lead out onto the winter porch that spills out into the garden.
I shove on the doors. Nothing happens.
“You barricaded the doors shut. Nobody’s been able to access the back wings of the compound for five days. Or willing to risk it. Hell, we didn’t even know if y’all were alive.”
Five days. It’s been five days. She has a six-day heat. I grin, fuckin’ exhilarated at the thought that my Omega’s got a six-day heat and I’m the lucky fuck that gets to service her for the rest of our lives — at least, for as long as her heats last and then some.
“He’s scaring me,” Sierra whispers to Whiskey and I realize I’m standing still, staring off into the distance wearin’ a huge fuckin’ grin. And nothing else.
I shake my head and flowers fall at my feet. They’re pink. Bright pink.
“You bleedin’, Dragnovic?” Balcazar points at the ground where the flowers lie against the dark grey carpet. She doesn’t understand.
“You have to see it,” I grumble before leanin’ my shoulder into the door and pushin’ as hard as I can.
The double doors strain and, when they part an inch, I can see a few skinny trees have been uprooted and laid across them. Hm. Guess I really didn’t wanna be interrupted. I reach through the door and kick the trees over. The door gives a little more. There are vines crisscrossin’ over the entry, too, and I draw my Berserker form forward and protract fresh claws long enough to be able to slash through ‘em. The door gives a little more, but I’m also not feelin’ my best fuckin’ self.
“Little help here,” I grunt over my shoulder.
The others step in line beside me and with one coordinated shove, we crack the doors wide open and spill out onto the stone porch. The whole thing’s been overrun. The porch is no more. Now there’s just green grass and wildflowers growin’ as far as the eye can see. The canopy stretches from the top of the house out…out all the way to fresh trees in the distance blocking the garden house from view. The dome she created towers above our heads and vines drip down towards us bearin’ flowers. So many fuckin’ colors. Orange and blue, purple and yellow, pink and red, white and multicolored, too.
“Oh my god,” Sierra whispers. She’s got her hands clapped over her mouth, starin’ around at everything.
At the edges of the dome, thick vines spiral up, braided together, as thick as tree trunks. They support the frame of this magnificent space that’s the size of a football field twice over.
I watch my Six move out into the beautiful carnage. In patches, the grass comes up to their shins; in others, it’s flat and I can hear the sounds a’ their sneakers and boots crinklin’ over vines and flowers. Must be millions of them. Billions.
Barbero hasn’t moved away from the door and when I look back at him, he looks fuckin’ terrified. He looks like he’s about to bawl like a baby.
I jerk my chin out towards the others in the field, toward Vi who’s crouched down to inspect a small thicket of rosebushes that are growin’ in no particular order, without reason. There is no reason for this. There is no reason for her power to be so limitless. It scares me a little bit.Scares me that someone else might covet it.
“How…” Whiskey’s blabberin’ to my right, her hands planted on her hips, her gaze goin’ everywhere and nowhere at the same time. “Did she…I’ve never seen an Omega with gifts like this.”
Sierra adds, “Most work small-scale — remember Gold City’s Omega? She could bend glass, but rumor has it only one piece at a time. Apparently the decorative nest they had on view took months for her to create.”
“And the Town of Teeth Omega…she could only move objects a few feet,” Barbero says, taking a few terrified steps forward. He flinches every time a vine beneath his feet crunches or breaks. “Dragnovic.” He looks at me, his face gettin’ kinda pale. “This is huge. She’s got Fate-level gifts.”
“Know it.”
