Lost Omega

by Noah Harris

  Dylan, however, wasn’t any other man.

  He was a man of action, and a loyal one at that. He owed so much to Rajiah and Arulean, and he wouldn’t stay behind when there was the possibility that he could help. He knew how to be in the field and keep himself safe. He had no worries about that.

  Besides, as stubborn and infuriating as his mate was being, he wasn’t about to let Blake go into the dragon’s nest alone.

  They were a team, whether Blake liked it or not.

  “Lily,” Dylan’s voice was hard and cold, almost detached. His mind was elsewhere, moving a mile a minute, body buzzing with adrenaline and anticipation. He stepped away from his daughter, a hand on her back as he pushed her toward Cynthia. “You stay with Cynthia, okay? Daddy needs to take care of something.”

  “Uh, what are you—“

  One look at Cynthia cut her off. She visibly flinched back, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Watch her,” he said simply, the unyielding command of a soldier in his voice. “I have to have a word with my husband.”

  “Daddy?” Lily’s voice was small, tugging at his heartstrings.

  He bend down in front of her, pulling her into his arms in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, Lily, but I need to speak with papa.”

  “Is... is papa in trouble?” she asked, voice small and hesitant, fingers curling into his shirt.

  “Yes,” he said simply. “He is.” He ignored her worried look as he stood, putting a hand on Cynthia’s shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “But I was going to—“ He gave her a sharp look, and she sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine, I’ll watch her. But you owe me,” she said, shoving a finger into his chest. He merely nodded before walking off.

  He didn’t ask where Blake was. He didn’t need to. He felt through their bond, felt the wall that blocked their connection, and just followed it. Besides, he had a good idea where he was.

  His feet carried him out of the dining hall and through the halls of the castle. He didn’t need to push through the dinner crowd. Everyone seemed to avoid him, taking one look at him before melting to the side to let him pass. He didn’t spare any of them a second glance, his eyes focused straight ahead, teeth grinding.

  He took the stairs quickly, the adrenaline in his system and the itch beneath his skin making him too anxious to stand still while the elevator slowly rose. With every step he took, his anger narrowed, being tamped down into a concentrated flame, the intensity of it staying the same. By the time he reached the conference room, he knew he was beyond the point of simply lashing out, but he wasn’t going to be denied.

  He threw the door open, taking one step inside before pausing. The conversation immediately died, leaving a powerful and profound silence in its wake. He looked around the room, his hard eyes narrowed and calculating as he took in the scene. Most of the witches were here, along with several members of the Shadow Pack’s inner circle. Most of them he hadn’t seen in months, but now wasn’t the time for greetings.

  His eyes flicked over all of them, pinning them with a hard stare before settling on Blake. His mate, in his seat, twisted around to look at Dylan, eyes wide and face lax in surprise. But as Dylan met his gaze, his face hardened, lips pursing and eyes going cold. Dylan could smell the shift in his scent, the familiar strong musk of him trying to assert his dominance as an alpha. It tasted bitter on Dylan’s tongue.

  “Out,” Dylan said, voice pitched low and dangerous and aimed at the rest of the room. It was a command, and one he expected to be followed. He knew, logically, that there was no reason they should follow his order, but his tone gave them no room to object. Not to mention the tension between him and Blake was practically crackling, and he knew every person in the room could feel it.

  They still hesitated, though. He could feel their gazes darting between himself and his alpha. Blake stood slowly, hand still on the back of his seat as he turned to face him. He was no longer smiling. His expression mirrored Dylan’s, but his voice was far more calm and collected when he spoke, though no less hard. “Dylan...”

  “Out!” Dylan barked, the word sharp and cutting.

  He held Blake’s gaze while the others finally got the message and shuffled out of the room. When the door shut behind them, it echoed in the silence.

  “Dylan…” Blake started again, voice measured and reasonable.

  Dylan wasn’t having any of it. “You can’t keep me here,” he snapped.

  Blake’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t come with us—“

  “And you can’t tell me what to do! You can’t control me, Blake!”

  “I don’t want to control you! I want you to be safe!”

  “I will be safe! I know how to handle myself out in the field, Blake, even while pregnant.” He stepped forward, until they were only a foot apart. He lifted his chin, stubbornly meeting his mate’s eyes. “I’m going with you, so stop making decisions for me.”

  Blake pursed his lips, blue eyes sharp as they looked over Dylan’s face. Dylan gave him nothing, keeping his own expression locked into a steady mask of unyielding confidence. He expected Blake to cave. To sag in defeat. To give him a tired smile and pull him into his arms.

  Blake did no such thing.

  “What about Lily?” he asked. The words were barely above a whisper but sharpened to a point and meant to sting.

  Dylan barely managed to pull back his wince. He didn’t let that deter him, however, and he remained firm. “She’ll be fine here. She’ll be safe.”

  “Yes, but what about you? Lily needs her dad—“

  “What about you?” Dylan snapped back. “There’s no guarantee that you’ll be safe.”

  Blake’s face twisted at that, a crack forming in his mask. His lips worked, trying to find words, but it was still a moment before he could find his voice. “That’s not the point—“

  “It is the point. What we do is dangerous, but neither of us want to stop. I’m going for Arulean and Rajiah and Remi, because they’re family and we owe them so much. I’m going for you, to help keep you safe. I’m going for me, because this is who I am and this is what I love to do, and I’m tired of trying to be someone I’m not. I’m not a stay-at-home father. I can’t be that person. I’m a soldier.” He paused, breathing heavily and trying to keep his voice from cracking. He could feel a familiar sting behind his eyes. “And I’m going for Lily.” His voice was soft but no less intense. “Because I may not be there for her enough, but the least I can do is make sure the father who actually raises her comes back alive.”

  “Dylan…” Blake’s voice was soft, concerned, and teetering on the edge of broken.

  But Dylan didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when he was so close to breaking himself. They didn’t need to break right now. They needed to be strong. There was a mission ahead of them, and neither could afford to be off their game.

  So he turned on his heel, striding purposefully toward the door. He stopped with his hand on the frame. “I have to get back to Lily now. I’ll get details from the others later.” He turned then, pinning Blake with a glare. “So stop telling everyone I’m staying here.”

  He left before Blake could get in another word, unsure whether or not he was opening his mouth to argue or apologize. Somehow he doubted it was the latter.

  That night, Blake was late coming back to their room, slinking in on silent feet long after Dylan had put himself and Lily to bed. Dylan pretended to be asleep, and Blake didn’t say anything. The space between them was small, but it felt vast and cold.

  8

  The atmosphere in the plane was less than ideal, to say the least. Arulean, twenty of his inner circle, and the seven witches were crammed into his private jet. While there was physically enough space for all of them to stretch out and be comfortable, there was clearly not enough to contain the general feeling that pervaded the cabin.

  The tension in the plane was thick enough to cut with a knife, undeniable and unavoidable. The air itself felt heavy, crawling a
cross Dylan’s skin, weighing on him like a thick, cloying blanket. When he breathed, the air coated the back of his throat and his lungs, leaving him short of breath. It was suffocating and set his nerves on edge. His hackles rose despite trying to soothe himself. His hair stood on end, senses on high alert, his attention drawn to every sound, every shift, every movement, every change in scent.

  There were so many scents. Arulean’s was the most prevalent. The Alpha dragon sat at the front of the plane in a large, round, cushioned chair, staring at the wall. He was practically fuming, and Dylan was sure that if he stared hard enough, he would see a rippling of the air around him. His scent was strong and thick with the smell of fire and smoke, brimstone and sulfur. Arulean had never smelled like this before. He had always been warm and welcoming, like a campfire in the woods, the ancient woods and forests themselves, and the earth beneath them. Not of hell itself.

  He was agitated. Anger, anxiousness, and anticipation rolled off him in waves. The emotions were contagious, setting everyone else on edge. All of them were part of the Shadow Pack in one form or another. Even Dylan and Blake were honorary members. As such, Arulean was their Alpha, their leader. Their reaction to him was not just that of friends and not just that of subordinates. It was a biological reaction, one residing deep in their bones and DNA. Their Alpha was on edge, and thus, they were, too.

  As a result, all of the alphas were giving off a stronger scent, their very beings riled up by their Alpha. They felt a fight coming, and even if they weren’t about to go barging into Thoric’s compound, their bodies were preparing anyway.

  With the alphas’ scents strong and clashing, all combining into one chaotic storm, a thick, aggressive haze fell over them. It was only natural that the omegas acted up. Their scents rising in strength and sweetness in a sore attempt to calm the alphas. The beta scents grew, too, trying to balance the others, soothe everyone’s raging hormones and shifter tendencies.

  It did nothing to assuage the tension. The air was thicker, each scent clashing, each one distinct but fusing into a chaotic storm.

  The witches sat clustered together. While they couldn’t smell the shifter scents, they could certainly feel the energy crackling and buzzing in the air. They all sat stiffly, just as tense as the shifters.

  Everyone in the plane occasionally sent worried glances toward Arulean, keeping an eye on their Alpha and wary of the dragon that so clearly crawled just beneath the surface. There were a few times Dylan was certain he’d caught sight of scales rippling across Arulean’s pale skin, rising and fading away again before he could be certain of what he’d seen.

  Unfortunately, Arulean wasn’t the only source of the tension in the small confines of the private jet’s cabin. Everyone seemed to be wrapped up in their own thoughts. None of them were in denial about the dangers that lay ahead of them. Thoric Jade was a dragon, an old dragon, and powerful in his own right. Powerful and thirsty for more power, but without the link to Arulean that Lyphnia had when she posed a threat. As such, he was unbound, rabid, and a wild card. Not only that, but he had a coven of power-driven witches at his command.

  No one was certain what they’d be facing, and it put them all on edge. Everyone receded into themselves, mentally and emotionally preparing for whatever might happen.

  Dylan was no stranger to this. It happened all the time with his navy SEAL team. Everyone prepared for missions in their own way, and that often resulted in a brooding and tense silence. This, however, was so much worse.

  The worst part for Dylan, though, had nothing to do with the pack around him or the brooding Alpha dragon, and everything to do with his own mate.

  Blake sat across the cabin from him, refusing to make eye contact. That didn’t, however, stop him from glaring. Dylan could feel the heat of his gaze, the animosity trickling through their bond despite the barrier that Blake had put up to keep him out. Each time he glanced toward Blake to return the narrowed gaze, Blake was looking away, but Dylan would occasionally catch a quick movement indicating that he had been staring at him.

  Dylan would huff and turn back around, crossing his arms and sinking lower in his seat, resolutely ignoring his mate who was intent on ignoring him back. Despite the luxury of the seats in Arulean’s private jet, he found he still had a hard time getting comfortable. Physically and mentally he was restless, and he only stayed in his seat through the flight by the sheer force of his will.

  He could tell the others were in pretty much the same boat. His sensitive hearing picked up on the restless shifting around him, the others eager to pace but no one willing to get up. They felt like animals trapped in a cage, but they kept the aisle clear.

  Arulean would occasionally stand and pace the length of the plane, heavy footsteps leaving a trail of powerful scent that nearly brought everyone to their knees. No one wanted to get in his way, so everyone remained seated despite their discomfort.

  He avoided eye contact throughout the flight, and no one tried to catch his gaze.

  In all truth, Dylan wanted nothing more than to go to his mate’s side, to let their fingers entwine, to drape his arm over Blake’s shoulder and curl into his side. He longed to inhale his scent as a kind of relief from those around him. But he didn’t. He was just as stubborn as Blake, and he refused to be the first to crack.

  Blake was unhappy with him, but he had expected him to be. Dylan was directly disobeying him. Blake had tried to impose his alpha will on Dylan, and had tried to force him to stay. But Dylan was a strong minded omega and always had been. He wouldn’t be forced to bow to anyone, not even his mate. So he stood his ground, grit his teeth until his jaw ached, and made it clear that Blake could not control him.

  They said their goodbyes to Lily, both of them attempting to soften their stance for her sake and explaining vaguely that they needed to go find uncle Rajiah. She hadn’t understood, but she had accepted it, teary eyed and with a wobbling lip. She had hugged them both close, small fingers tight and clinging, and Dylan had tried to keep the guilt from eating him from the inside out.

  It was also clear that the others were well aware of Dylan and Blake’s quarrel, despite neither of them speaking a word about it. It was clear in the way they regarded each other. In the way they avoided each other. In the way their scents clashed for the first time, no longer woven harmoniously together. It was in the way Blake smiled, tight-lipped and not reaching his cold, blue eyes. It was in the way Dylan’s back remained ramrod straight, his gestures clipped.

  Everyone gave the two of them their space, sending questions only in the form of worried glances, but otherwise they left them alone. It was not their place to interfere and they knew it. Dylan and Blake didn’t give them anything to grab onto to enable them to voice their opinions.

  Dylan also wasn’t a fool. He could feel all the worried glances coming his way. It didn’t take much to figure out why they were fighting. Blake had told all of them that Dylan wouldn’t be coming on the mission, and Dylan had stubbornly climbed the steps into the plane’s cabin.

  He could feel their glances. He could see their worried expressions out of the corner of his eye. He knew they were worried about him, too. He was, after all, pregnant. He wouldn’t be at the peak of his performance, and they all knew that. They were obviously worried that he would be a liability.

  Dylan refused to be a liability. He refused to hold them back. He was a soldier, a fighter. He had only recently been on missions no less dangerous than this. He knew how to take care of himself. He knew his limitations. He made that clear in his posture, in his hard-set expression, in his scent and aura.

  No one questioned him, and no one suggested that he stay home.

  Even Blake had given up trying to convince him, though he clearly wasn’t happy about it.

  Dylan just tried to breathe to pass the time quietly. They were only a couple of hours into the flight, and they had a couple more ahead of them. He wasn’t, however, holding up too well. Everything was too much. The scents were too much, amped
up in intensity by his senses, which were on edge. His pregnancy was making his sense of smell so much keener. Every sound grated on his ears. His skin felt overly sensitive, his clothes uncomfortable against his flesh and crawling where others accidentally bumped him.

  He held it in. He grit his teeth and dealt with it. He had been through worse, and he would get through this.

  Either Blake was extremely observant, or some of Dylan’s discomfort had trickled through their bond. Odds were, it was a mixture of both. Either way, it eventually wore down his defenses. He sighed and stood. Dylan could tell the moment he did. His eyes had been closed, senses honed in on where Blake sat, trying to use his presence as an anchor, to calm himself.

  His eyes snapped open to see Blake stop in front of the witch next to him. He lifted his chin once, eyes hard, and the woman got the message, silently slipping out of her seat to go find another.

  Blake fell heavily into the seat next to Dylan, his body slumping and a sigh escaping his lips as he resolutely draped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in. For once, Dylan didn’t put up a fight. He went willingly, slumping into Blake’s side and burying his face in Blake’s neck. He inhaled deeply, letting the breath out with a shuddering sigh as his mate’s scent wrapped around him, grounding, familiar, comforting, home.

  Neither of them said anything. Blake’s posture remained stiff, and Dylan offered no further comfort. But they cuddled together for the duration of the flight. They were still arguing, still fighting. Dylan knew that. He could tell from the irritation and frustration that radiated from Blake. But beneath it was the need to comfort him, to keep him safe.

  They may have been still fighting, but Blake was his mate, and he wouldn’t sit idly by while Dylan suffered in silence.

  Dylan wrapped one arm around Blake’s waist, tightening his grip in a momentary embrace before letting it sag and rest in his lap. He kept his nose buried near Blake’s scent glands, letting his alpha scent drown out all those around them, allowing him to find a bubble of peace among the chaotic storm that surrounded them.