by V T Bonds
I fight the urge to slice his throat. I don’t need my failures highlighted. Every move I make seems cursed, but I have to do something. She’s miserable, and I need to soothe her. It’s my fault. She deserves better, but I only have so much control.
Vander releases me and I dart across the space. Dropping to my knees, I lean over her, not touching her but cocooning her from the world with my torso. I purr, loud and strong, and beg for her to speak to me, to tell me what’s wrong, to tell me how I can help, to let me take her pain away.
Her muscles spasm again, but the pain that locked her in misery loosens its hold on her. I need to touch her—I can’t leave her to suffer on her own.
I stroke her cheek, the rest of her covered, desperate to rip her protection away and feel her feminine curves. I vibrate with the need, but I can’t break my word—I told her I’d wait until she asked for it, and I meant it. Even if I’m breaking the rules with my casual touch, I can’t summon the guilt I should be feeling.
“More. Hold me,” she croaks.
I do. I gather her into my arms and sit, wrapping her in a cocoon of Alpha. I pull her head covering off and tear my loose desert garb down the center, exposing my undershirt. Lifting the last piece of clothing from my chest, I press her cheek to my sternum, pushing my purr into her and offering as much of myself as she’ll take.
Here, in the middle of the desert, my little omega clings to me, a ball of desperate confusion. She shakes and starts to cry. My chest runs wet with her tears as I rock back and forth, my heart cracking down the middle. I do the only other thing I can think of to help calm her. I call her every uplifting characteristic I can think of—beautiful, strong, stubborn, gorgeous, tenacious, and many more.
As the words flow from my mouth, her tears slowly dry up. She sniffles, a finger absently drawing circles over my chest tattoo.
“How can you cause so much pain, then make it all go away?” she asks.
“I don’t mean to hurt you, little one. I… I can’t stand to see you hurting. I want to take it all away forever,” I declare, shocked that my voice is tight with tears.
Her pale blue eyes search mine, and I let her pierce my soul, hoping she sees how honest I am. She blinks, then looks down. She snatches her hand away when she realizes what she’s doing, and I mourn the loss.
“What is that? The symbol on your chest?” she asks.
“That’s the Alpha Elite crest. The smallest letter, b, represents our origins—betas are most like our ancestors. The ohm surrounding it is for your kind, Omegas, and sits inside the enclosed area of the A, signifying the protection we provide. The letter A is made of DNA strands, since we are different from other Alphas,” I finish and clear my throat, the urge to cry lessening with the distraction.
“I… I can’t…” she stammers, falls quiet for a minute, then begins again, “I don’t trust you, but I’m tired of hurting. Will you… will you carry me for a while?”
“Yes. Whatever you need,” I promise, and I mean it—except for one thing. I’d never be able to leave her. Ever.
Chapter Twenty
Her - Known
Since I slept well in Seeck’s arms last night, I expected to march all day today. But that bout of pain drained me of every ounce of energy. It felt like a white-hot poker lancing into my lower abdomen—as though a pool of acid ate my insides. I almost threw up as I wished for unconsciousness.
With the fanciful way Dirk explained it, I imagined becoming an Omega was some sweet unraveling of fortune, like a cactus budding to produce vibrant blooms. This feels more like when a snake catches a scorpion by accident, swallows it whole, and dies a gruesome death.
I sink into Seeck’s cradle, soaking up his purr, overwhelmed and tired. It feels right to be in his arms, but unease lingers in my thoughts.
He may erase my pain, but I can’t forget his cruel treatment.
Heat builds as the sun reaches its peak, and still his purr drowns out the wind. I rock with his stalking, lulled into a state of restfulness. We eat on the move, their pace much faster, and each male exudes a sense of determination that’s frightening in intensity. Seeck passes his water straw to me, and I hesitate. I denied myself last night when I woke thirsty, because I smelled him on the container. Now, after my outburst of tears earlier, I feel unbelievably parched. I send a quick side-glance in his direction, wondering if he has any ulterior motives.
I feel as though I’m perched on a ledge. Behind me is level and predictable; the decision to refuse to share his water. In front of me is a drop so far I can’t see the bottom—a thrilling and scary adventure. Once I place my lips where his were a few moments ago, there will be no turning back. This thought has no words, just an instinctual knowledge that tasting him will change my life forever.
I take the leap, inserting the contraption between my teeth and sucking.
Explosions of exquisite flavor drown my senses, and I can’t mute my response. I close my eyes and moan, the layers of deliciousness seeming to have no end. He tastes of the wilderness Dirk spoke of—vibrant flowers and neon grasses that grow near life-giving water. Of streams and strength and security.
I fill my belly with water, and when I can’t swallow another drop, I hold the straw in my mouth and run my tongue over the mouthpiece. A strange noise fills my eardrums, and I startle.
His purr hits an octave lower than I’ve ever heard, the perfect counterpart to my ecstatic moans.
Like his growl, this one affects my stomach, but very differently. My back twinges, as it did when I ran into the countertop, but deeper within my abdomen an unfamiliar sensation begins. Almost like a yawn after sleep, my organs stretch in a sensual dance.
I want to spit out the straw and demand he put me down, but I can’t force my body to do so. Instead, I stop my moaning and curl tighter against his chest, refusing to give in to the need to writhe against his heat. I stop licking the straw and just hold it in my mouth. I whimper a bit, pleading with him to stop his enticing rumbling. He audibly swallows, then changes back to the calming notes that sweep my worries away.
I’m using him, but I don’t feel the least bit remorseful. He offered, and I need his comfort.
But I fear that he’s corrupted my ability to make smart decisions.
Miles pass under his feet. The sun completes its circle in the sky a few times, but I don’t bother to count. They keep their quick march, rarely stopping, but when we do, I stay close to Seeck. My enjoyment of his purr is now an addiction. I’ve never felt so good in all my life. When we lay down to rest, he presses his chest against my back and his reverberations keep my terrors at bay. Without the encompassing fear and pain, I’m able to ponder names, but nothing works. Nothing sounds like anything I’d like to respond to for the rest of my life.
As though sensing my quest, Seeck allows Dirk to walk beside us. He tells stories and recounts little bits of information that can only be recited by the person who lived the tale. A few times, Seeck makes a warning noise deep in his throat, not liking something that Dirk plans to say, these stories obviously not new to him. But when the aggression tightens my lower abdomen, he stops and doubles his purr.
Can he be that in tune with me? Can he be so sensitive to my ailments he recognizes what’s happening to my body without me telling him? Most of the time, I don’t even know that something is wrong before he’s apologizing for upsetting me.
Dirk ends one story, then after a few minutes of nothing except Seeck’s purr and the wind, he begins another. He introduces it as a history lesson, told to young students in a pompous, uptight school.
It begins with a world composed of no hardships, with abundant resources and no sickness. Then humankind became corrupt and consumed what was once plentiful. A natural biome, the desert, overran the world, spreading and disrupting the natural way of things. It moved little by little, until the planet held only the new super biome, a strip of usable land along the coasts, and oceans. They called this massive death of the land Muerte. Scientists made a b
reakthrough, and suddenly once rare resources were available again. They beat the desert back with invention after invention. Farmland, cities, and life expanded. They called this rapid regrowth Nova Vega, the words a mashing of languages no longer practiced, but in short meaning “new swooping eagle” to signify how fast the reclaiming happened.
One word jumps out at me, and I replay it over and over in my mind. Nova. New. I could reclaim myself as something better. Something usable. Something alive.
I look up at Seeck’s chin and his bright red beard brushes over my forehead, the wind blowing it. It’s gotten longer since we first met. When I first saw him it shadowed his chin, almost like a goatee instead of a beard. Now the patches on his cheekbones meet with his jawline, and the thick strands from his chin reach the large bulge in his throat.
He looks down at me, his bright orange-red eyebrows raised.
“Nova. My name is Nova,” I proclaim.
He closes his eyes as he absorbs my words, keeping pace with Dirk. Then he opens them, meets mine, and nearly sends me into convulsions. His lip tilts up in the most enticing, playful way and he purrs. “My perfect, beautiful Nova. The name suits you. Will you let me kiss you to celebrate your new name, Nova?”
Oh, the way it rolls off his tongue causes a fluttering in my stomach and a fullness in my heart. The stretching sensation in my lower abdomen joins in, and I fight to stay focused.
Yes, I want him to kiss me. He’s worked his way into my heart, one soft comfort at a time, and I didn’t even see it until now. I haven’t forgiven him, and still fear his effect on me, but the emotions whirling through me demand actions.
Yes, let him kiss you, you fool.
“Yes,” I answer in a throaty half-whisper.
His smirk widens to a full smile, his white teeth glinting in the sunlight. My heart pounds as I notice his incisors are longer than expected. He lowers his face and rubs his lips across mine. The soft caress is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and I gasp at the intimacy. That unfurling in my abdomen strengthens and I squeak in wonder. His tongue darts in and out, stroking the roof of my mouth and leaving before I can react.
I pant as my senses reel. By the time my vision returns to me, his attention is on the path ahead. He has an enormous grin, even as his eyes pinch in strain.
Exhausted, I snuggle to him and fade into sleep.
Chapter Twenty-One
Dirk
We need shelter. No, not shelter. We need a fortress, with parapets to shoot from, landmines, a moat, and all kinds of protection.
I power stride to Vander, knowing neither of my companions give a shit about me right now.
I call his name, even though I know he’s aware of my approach. Can’t be too careful. He motions over his shoulder for me to join him.
“We need a bunker,” I say, pointing to the oblivious couple.
He turns, walks backwards as he studies them, then faces front again.
“We’re at least three days from the nearest hideout, and we haven’t stocked that one for mating. Does she smell close?” he asks.
“Fuck if I know! Two weeks ago, she smelled like a sick Beta. This isn’t normal. She could be ready in a week or tomorrow. We have no way to know what her timeline will be,” I reply, ready to pull my hair out.
He flicks his eyes over me and sinks into thought for a moment.
“But your instincts are telling you ‘soon’. Mine too,” he confides. He raises his wrist and views the top-secret band around it. After he taps a few invisible buttons, a hologram projects onto his forearm. He types a few words and pulls up a map of the towns ahead. Shifting so I can see too, we delve into logistics. After a few minutes we have a primary, secondary, and contingency plan. None of them seem adequate, but such is life.
We’d stay in the desert if we had enough water, but we're running low. Nova is growing stronger by the sip, so none of us begrudge the lack. I haven’t had more than a swallow in twenty-four hours, pouring the last cup or two from my pack into Seeck’s. We’ve all done this without hesitation or discussion.
But my throat scratches in the dry air and I’ve stopped sweating. We need to reach the closest town before the sun rises tomorrow morning, or we’ll be in serious trouble.
“How is your control?” he asks.
“Thin. She’s… she’s different from other Omegas. I think it’s her tie to Seeck that makes it a little more bearable to be around her, but it could just be the danger of the situation. Oh, she chose a name,” I change topics, uncomfortable discussing how I feel about her.
When I tell him what she’s chosen, he chuckles.
“Intuitive little thing, isn’t she? How the hell did Seeck get so damn lucky?”
The exact sentiment I’ve been struggling with. I shrug.
“We'll keep this pace until we reach checkpoint. Keep food intake elevated, even if we have to break into emergency portions. Relay the plan. And don’t let him fuck up again,” Vander instructs, in command mode. It suits him. Even when he’s a jerk, it’s for the good of the team.
By the time I fall back to Seeck’s position, Nova is fast asleep, and he’s switching his attention between her and his path.
Using shorthand, I relay the plan to him. “Double-time. Checkpoint sunrise tomorrow. Jumoke left flank. Kwame center left. Vander lead. You and Nova center right. Water first, then to bunker Zeolite. Secondary Quinone. Contingency Joule. Roger?”
He confirms, and I fall back to Kwame. He accepts the news with a nod. Falling back again, I brace myself against the emotions emanating from Jumoke. I tell him the plan and he smirks.
“I feel like an outcast, Dirk. He’s singled me out. I’m the only one he won’t let near her,” he laments.
“Can you blame him, Jumoke?” I ask.
He laughs, uncaring that the motion pulls the cut on his cheek open. Proof of his tussle with Seeck.
“Not really. But she smells so fantastic. Can’t he share, just a little?”
I smack him on the head, and he laughs again. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat, his expression changing.
“I wouldn’t share her either. So no, I don’t blame him. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to make him pay for treating her like shit. Every chance I get, I’ll make him regret hurting her. She’s too damn sweet to have to put up with his wild tendencies. How is she handling everything?” he sounds genuine.
“She’s getting stronger every minute. I dare say she’s using him, but I’m not sure that’ll go how she’s expecting. Torture Seeck as much as you please, just don’t let it interfere with her safety, yeah?” I elbow him. He grunts and smiles, his bright white teeth framed by cracked lips. Our dehydration grows with every passing minute.
I fall further back, taking up the rear. The sun sinks below the horizon, taking the overbearing heat with it. We keep our fast pace, even as the terrain changes from dunes of sand to jutting red rocks. Not a single step is flat, the dry earth splintered with cracks and jagged stone. Huge formations protrude from the uneven landscape, and we weave within the maze of stone.
Amidst the confusing pathways, we split, each in our designated direction. We cannot risk being seen together, so we adopt a formation so spread out we can’t see each other.
The land levels and the rocks become smooth, worn down by sand and wind. I exit the deadly trap of stones and approach the outskirts of the shanty town. The first sign of society I’ve seen in weeks.
I’d prefer the desert.
Tiny huts made of baked dirt intermingle with shabby lean-tos. Most have huge rips in their walls, with flaps of disintegrating fabric snapping in the wind. Dirty, gaunt faces poke out from the holes of the few populated shacks. Despite my need for water, I dare not pilfer their supply. They need it even more than I do, and I can make it to the nearest well much easier than they can.
One man, stooped with the weight of full jars, walks towards a hut that looks more solid than most. He’s almost to the door when a bout of coughing stops him.
Setting the water against the side of the hut, he doubles over and dry hacks. He doesn’t see me in the alley, since the sun has yet to brighten the horizon. I pull a vial from my pack and slow, intending to give the man a quick dose of healing meds and continuing on my way. He opens the door to the hut and I know my actions won’t be enough. A woman and child huddle inside, too sick to make it to the well and back. With Nova’s hard life fresh in my mind, there’s no need to think this through. I pick up the man’s jars, carry them inside, place my emergency rations on their table, and put the medicine in the man’s hands.
Silence follows me through the alley, but I don’t need gratitude. I need them to have the chance to live. Maybe with the boost I just gave them, they’ll heal and get back on their feet.
I make it to the crumbling well, the metal bucket wet from previous use. I fill every water pouch I have, the built-in filters removing any potential irritants. It isn’t necessary—being an Alpha means my immune system is impervious to such things, but we can never be too careful.
Then I lower the bucket one last time, pull it up, and drink every drop straight from the metal. My body puts it to use as I leave the well.
Next step—food. After that, I’ll make my way to bunker Zeolite, a half-day of travel.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Seeck
Something is wrong. Every single one of my senses alert with warning, but nothing seems out of place. I stand in the narrow corridor between two decrepit buildings with Nova in my shadow. She clutches my finger, her tiny extremity engulfed in my hand.
I had to set her down to traverse through the streets. A couple walking together brings less attention than a large male carrying a female. The trek must have exhausted her, our winding path through the town an arduous process.
We’ve made it through three days of travel since returning to society. The first tiny town felt like nothing more than a well, but replenishing our water supply gave us a morale boost. We sheltered for the night in an empty hut, then spent an entire day crossing barren land. We slept under the stars, then walked through this mini city today. Spending time with her is magical, but the trials of the mission hang heavy in the air.