Lost Omega

by Noah Harris

  He found himself relaxing, and after a while, he felt Blake do the same.

  He even managed to doze, and in the distant haze between wakefulness and sleep, he felt the ghost of Blake’s lips press against his temple.

  9

  They landed about twenty miles from where they pinpointed Thoric Jade’s compound to be, based on the locator spell Blake and Adalaide had cast.

  They had to land in a field, the touchdown rough and bumpy but nevertheless they were down safely. As soon as the plane came to a halt, Blake peeled himself away from Dylan. Dylan let him go, but he felt his hurt seeping through their bond before Dylan managed to seal himself off. He saw Blake’s jaw clench as he felt it, saw the way his fists flexed, but he didn’t return to his side, nor did he speak to him.

  He did, however, get Dylan’s things, meeting Dylan’s indignant glare with a blank face as he pushed past. Dylan wasn’t happy about his mate carrying his bags, treating him like he was made of glass, but if this was Blake’s way of reaching out to meet on neutral ground, Dylan would let it slide without comment.

  They set up camp a short distance from the plane, under the cover of trees and shadows. Once they were unpacked the pilot took off again, under Arulean’s orders to remain close enough to be called, but otherwise out of harm's way. The sun was setting on the western horizon as they hurried to finish setting up camp before night fell completely.

  They worked like a well-oiled machine. They’d been on enough missions together to know exactly what to do and who should do what without speaking. Blake and Dylan quickly fell into the groove. Blake took care of his own equipment, handling it with care as he set his gear out and organized their supplies, while Dylan erected their small tent. It was no bigger than the two of them but it would keep any rain from soaking them. He set it up along the edge of the main campsite, together with the other sleeping tents.

  Blake tried not to watch, but Dylan felt his gaze constantly drifting towards him. He felt it lingering on his back as a trickle of emotion seeped through the barriers they had each put up against their bond. Dylan, too, found his eyes constantly wandering back to Blake, needing to be aware of where he was, his eyes lingering on his mate’s broad shoulders and lean back, but he turned quickly to avoid making eye contact each time he sensed Blake looking his way.

  For the first time in ages, he was annoyed by the habit of needing to look at his mate. But he found some consolation in the fact that Blake was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of him, as well.

  While the shifters worked on setting up camp, organizing supplies, and sending scouts out to patrol and get a read on the area, the witches set to work, too. They stayed out of the shifters’ way, standing far off from the camp in a wide circle, and began setting down protection and barrier spells. Their chanting was low, monotone, and in a language that Dylan couldn’t understand. His sensitive hearing, however, picked up their voices. They were an oddly soothing, low hum around the camp, knowing they were on their side. However, it did little to relieve the tension.

  While everyone worked, silence persisted. Only murmured questions and grunts of apology and thanks were muttered among the shifters. The witches’ voices continued as a low hum beneath the ambient sounds of the forest. Arulean stood at the edge of the camp, just outside the circle that the witches set up. He stood tall, hands clasped tight behind his back, his posture rigid and his eyes trained on the distant horizon.

  Dylan knew without asking that Arulean could feel Rajiah. Their bond was strong, and dragons were very powerful. A couple of hours ago, Arulean’s anxiety had increased tenfold, and Dylan had suspected he was beginning to feel Rajiah through their bond. Here, now, a mere twenty miles from where they suspected he was held captive, he had no doubts that they could feel each other.

  It was honestly a miracle the man hadn’t flown off in a rage, given his chaotic emotional state of the past couple of weeks. Blake was sure it was only centuries worth of self-control that kept him still on the ground at this point.

  For that, Dylan was grateful. Recklessness would only be their downfall.

  Arulean stood like that, an immovable statue, for the hour it took them to fully set up camp. His aura pulsed off him in waves, scent drenching the air around the camp. There was now a new element to his rage and frustration: sorrow. The deep seated sorrow of an alpha calling for his mate in vain.

  It tore at Dylan’s heart, making his eyes drift back to Blake more times than he could count. He caught the alpha’s gaze a few times, and it held, clicking into place. And while their stubborn expressions didn’t change, there were thin tendrils leaking through their bond, subconsciously reaching out for one another.

  By the time all the tents were set up, the supplies were organized, and the witches had finished their protection spells, dinner had already begun. Blake was in a tent that was a little larger than the others, and more fortified. There was a table in there, along with some chairs, and it was there that he set up his equipment, all plugged into the industrial portable batteries. That was where they would make their plans later, but for now, Blake was putting time and care into the setup.

  Dylan let him be, knowing that he would come out when he was ready.

  The forest smelled familiar and yet foreign at the same time. It smelled of nature, earth, animals, plants, and the dampness of recent rainfall. There was nothing here that he was unfamiliar with, but the small details made it seem foreign. He had never been to this particular forest, and that unfamiliarity combined with everything else kept it from being completely comforting.

  Dylan could smell the herbs that the witches were burning. It was a complex mix, one he might be able to pick apart if he had more in-depth knowledge of their scents. He knew the bunches of tied herbs were smoldering around the perimeter circle that the witches had set, smoke lifting lazily through the air of the camp. He knew it had something to do with their protection spells, spells for cleansing and purifying. He had spoken to them about it before they had even left the castle. A shifter would be able to smell it as soon as they got close, but it would protect them from the scrying and spell-searching of the other witches.

  Mixed in with the smell of smoldering herbs, mingling and twisting in the air, was the smoke of the campfire and the smell of food. It was the smell of something filling and high in nutrition: simple stew, warming bread, and roasting meat.

  All those scents, mixed with the familiar scents of the Shadow Pack and the witches, were almost enough to make the camp smell comforting. Unfortunately, Arulean’s lingering scent overpowered it all, overlaying the pleasant scents with a sour bitterness that stuck to the back of his throat. It wasn’t as potent as it had been in the confined space of the plane’s cabin, but it was still there, lingering, ever present, muting the soothing effects of everything else.

  It was a constant reminder as to why they were there.

  Dylan found himself being drawn to the campfires, and so did many of the others. They trickled in as they finished their work, grouping and gathering together for comfort. Dylan wasn’t particularly sociable, but at this time, he found himself craving the company of others. With the mission looming over them, the danger settling into their bones, the permeating displeasure of a dragon, and the constant ache of his mate’s unhappiness, Dylan clung to others in an attempt to fight off the loneliness.

  As Blake entered the light of the fire, Dylan found his eyes automatically shifting toward him. Their gazes locked before Dylan was even aware who he was looking for, and by then, he couldn’t look away. He watched as a jolt ran through Blake as they made eye contact, and felt a thrill run through himself at the response. Still, he tried to keep his face set, stubborn, and hard, betraying nothing. However, he was never as good at schooling his features as Blake was. He could feel the pinch in his brow and the way his lips pursed with worry.

  Blake looked haggard and tired, despite his attempt at putting on a mask of indifference.

  Then Blake lifted his chin a
fraction, squaring his shoulders before taking a seat by Luz and Viv across the fire from Dylan. He pointedly turned his back to him, and Dylan tried to shake off the hurt he felt at the action. He tried to stifle it and prevent it from leaking through their bond, but he wasn’t entirely certain he succeeded.

  Dylan turned away from him, focusing on the conversation around him, though he barely added to it. He pointedly refused to look across the fire and he ignored the worried glances from his companions.

  Arulean was the only one who didn’t join them, even after the camp had been fully set up.

  They were in the process of passing out food when they felt it.

  It was subtle at first, a shift in the wind, a slight increase in air pressure, just the barest change in the atmosphere. Arulean’s scent and aura blocked out most things beyond their little camp, but he couldn’t quite block this out completely.

  The shifters noticed it first. They were sensitive to other shifters in ways the witches could never be. It started out as a slight perking of their ears. A restless shifting. Tilting their noses to scent the air. Eyes wandering warily to the distant horizon. Their hackles were raised, wariness and caution building in their own scents.

  He didn’t know if the witches could feel it themselves, but it didn’t take long for them to notice the change in the shifters. They glanced around nervously between them, sharing looks with their fellow witches before moving slowly away from the shifters.

  Then the feeling got stronger, and they knew it wasn’t something insignificant.

  One by one, then as a group, silent but sharing a universal understanding, the shifters stood. Growls rumbled deep in their throats, vibrating in their chests, one blending into the next until it was uncertain who was growling when. They trickled away from the fire, to the edge of the camp, fanning out in a loosely bunched arc behind Arulean.

  Dylan was distantly aware of the witches behind them, they were considerably more cautious, keeping within the circle they had made.

  The pressure built around them, a rage and frustration that was foreign and unknown, hostile in nature. They could smell it on the wind, cutting through Arulean’s own scent.

  Blake shifted, feet moving until he was positioned in front of Dylan. Dylan blinked in surprise, but as he realized the significance of the action, warmth bubbled unbidden in his gut. It was protective, yes, but it wasn’t like Blake was telling him to leave. He didn’t try to push him away. Blake didn’t even move to cover him completely. He simply put himself just barely in front, a weak barrier between Dylan and the threat on the horizon.

  Blake jumped when Dylan reached out with his fingertips and touched his arm, hesitant at first, but gaining confidence as they slid down his arm, tangling Blake’s fingers with his own, squeezing them together palm to palm.

  Blake tilted his head just enough to glance at Dylan out of the corner of his eye. Dylan caught the man’s gaze, blue eyes hard and determined, but softer around the edges. A shy, almost tentative thankfulness filtered through their bond, soft as a caressing breeze. He let his own walls crumble a bit, let it in, and they exchanged worry and frustration, but also a reluctant acceptance.

  Blake squeezed his hand, offering Dylan a small smirk as a wry, wary fondness crept through their mateship bond. Dylan’s lips curved up in the ghost of a smile, and then they were both turning back to the horizon. They stood together, and they waited.

  It didn’t take long for them to see the shadow on the horizon, an inky spot against a darkening sky. As it grew closer, it began to take shape. A long, serpentine body, powerful legs, a wide and powerful wingspan. There was only one person it could be, and it put all of them on edge. They stood like statues behind Arulean, fight or flight adrenaline coursing through their veins.

  The dragon flew fast, but it still took him a while to reach them, growing larger and larger. Dylan was certain his size rivalled Arulean’s. As he came closer, his aura became more oppressive, scent stronger on the wind: sharp, sour, and pungent. Arulean’s scent strengthened to counter balance it, a wave of earth and ash and smoke scented air swirling around them, blanketing them like the smoke from a bonfire might.

  Arulean never moved. He stood perfectly still, head tilting just a fraction to keep his eyes on the other dragon as he circled them once, twice, and then dove down. Dylan held his breath, hearing the stillness in the air as the others did, too. The dragon’s scales flashed deep green in the moonlight as he angled downward, shooting with impressive speed to the ground. He landed in front of them, in the vast open space of the field. His body hit the ground with tremendous force, loud and echoing in the quiet of the night, shaking the ground and throwing dirt and debris into the air.

  They all stood their ground, shifting their balance but not falling. The only one unaffected was Arulean. They stood waiting for the dust to clear. When it did, a man stood in the middle of the crater in front of them. He walked toward them, up the slope of the crater and stopped several yards away.

  He stood tall, though Dylan was willing to bet Arulean was taller. His skin was sunkissed and scarred, battle worn with thin white lines practically glowing in the moonlight. He was strongly built, with broad shoulders and a broad chest, thick arms and legs. His entire body was chiseled, and if he stood still enough, Dylan was certain he could pass for a statue of Adonis. His hair was golden, slicked back from his forehead and curling around and below his ears. His face was squared and sharp, both rough and smooth.

  He was handsome, as most dragons were. Handsome and molded through time and age. But his aura pulsed with open hostility, coming off him like heat waves, his scent putrid and dangerous: a clear warning.

  Time seemed to stand still as the dragons stared each other down. Dylan felt each second pass like a tick against his skin. His hair stood on end, hackles raised, teeth bared, and his wolf prowling close to the surface. The energy between the two ancient beings seemed to crackle and spark, scents mixing poorly and thickly, making the air itself hard to breathe. Their combined, clashing auras threatened to bring him to his knees, and he could see the others were going through the same struggle.

  He was honestly surprised Arulean hadn’t attacked the man already. He was also surprised he hadn’t shifted to his dragon and flown off after him to rip him from the sky. But he knew that as furious and desperate as Arulean was, the knowledge that his actions could affect his mate and that they didn’t know exactly how Rajiah was being imprisoned, kept him on a tight leash. Despite that, Dylan could see his self-control fraying at the edges.

  Thoric Jade was the first to break the silence, voice spearheading straight into the heart of the approaching night, sending cracks and hairline fractures through the illusion of calm. “Arulean Black.” It wasn’t a greeting, merely a statement. Voice pitched low and dangerous, the taunting and mocking veiled beneath a thin illusion of calm.

  “Thoric Jade.” Arulean’s voice was equally low, though it had a lilt to it and was more controlled. It was cold, chilled to the bone, cutting through the air to strike at the heart. But there was an edge around it, a veil of pleasantries that came from years upon years of being in control and having power. Politics coated him like a second skin. He was calm. He was courteous. But he was no less dangerous. Perhaps he was even more so, as his anger didn’t threaten to betray him. “It has been a while.”

  “Indeed,” Thoric said conversationally, which was in dramatic contrast to the tension between them. Unlike Arulean, however, he couldn’t quite hide the bite to his words. “Centuries, in fact. I stopped bending a knee to you once you showed your weakness.” His lip curled. “Bowing to the humans. Hiding. No dragon should have to hide. We should be the ones forcing them to bend.”

  “Those sound like words my late mate might have said.”

  “She did. Many times. And still you did not listen. You let that little whore of yours kill her.”

  “Only because I was too weak to do so myself.”

  “So you admit you are weak.”
/>
  “To care is not a weakness, Thoric. To thirst for power is.”

  “I do not need morality lessons from a dead man,” he sneered.

  Arulean held his arms out in a gesture that was innocent on the surface, but threatening and challenging at its heart. “As you can see, I am still very much alive.”

  “For now, perhaps.”

  Arulean’s hands returned behind his back, and Blake could see the tension in them as he clasped them tightly. “I grow bored of this posturing. I believe you have something of mine.”

  The man’s smirk widened, flashing menacingly in the dim lighting. “They will not be yours for long. You took my mate from me, so I will take yours from you.”

  Arulean cocked an eyebrow. “Lyphnia was not your mate.”

  Thoric’s sneer grew a fraction more angry. “No, but she would have been, had you had the decency to step away from her.”

  At that, Arulean threw his head back and laughed, an oddly grating sound in the silence of the night. It was cold and merciless, mocking and lacking true humor. He leveled an amused gaze at Thoric, a threatening smile curving his lips. “And you think she would have mated with you? You are more foolish than I thought. Lyphnia was cunning and meticulous. Had I let her be free, she would not have mated with anyone else. She valued her freedom far too much. You would have been just another pawn. A powerful one, but still a pawn, wrapped so carefully around her claw.”

  Thoric’s hands curled into fists, jaw clenching. “It matters not,” Thoric growled. “She is gone and I have found another suitable mate. A far more fertile one.”

  Arulean stiffened, smile fading as his lips pursed and his jaw clenched. “You will release them—“

  “I will do no such thing!” Thoric said with a bark of a laugh, grin widening and eyes flashing in the dark. “They are mine now, Arulean, and you are nothing.”