Lost Omega

by Noah Harris

  He remembered hearing his mate’s name. Blake. Blake. Blake. He remembered it being whispered, always in hushed tones. He remembered the worry attached to it. He remembered how they all said it like it was a forbidden subject. He was distantly aware that Blake was the name of his mate, of his alpha, but it was the only word that pierced the fog around his mind. He heard nothing else. His worry was a detached thing, sparking and coiling in his heart but unable to truly take root.

  He remembered being propped up, gentle hands holding a cup to his lips and encouraging him to drink. He did so, body moving automatically. The liquid was thick, the taste indescribable, lingering sweet and heavy on his tongue.

  Then he slept, deeply and dreamlessly, and he remembered no more.

  _______________________

  Dylan woke slowly, feeling as if he were swimming through molasses. There was a haze around his mind, keeping anything from truly sticking, keeping everything at arm's length. It was a bubble around his consciousness. Nothing had true consequence. He couldn’t feel his body. Flashes of memory drifted through the fog, distant and blurred. None of them stuck either. None of the memories fit together. He couldn’t quite grasp them, let alone understand them.

  His mind felt heavy and thick. He felt like he was drifting slowly downwards, barely able to see the ground through the fog, but knowing it was there. He longed to touch it, to come back into himself, but it took so long. It was like a pebble slowly falling through a pool of syrup.

  He slowly became aware of his body, so incrementally that he barely recognized it at first. It felt heavy. Almost impossibly so. His limbs were like lead. His eyelids glued shut. His mouth incredibly dry and his throat parched. His legs felt useless and detached. The only thing that came easy was breathing, and he latched onto the feeling of his chest rising and falling in order to help ground himself as his mind rose slowly to consciousness.

  He became aware of the bed beneath him. It was soft and plush, the blankets draped over his body felt silken and heavy. The pillows beneath his head were soft and cushioned him delicately.

  The scents around him were incredibly familiar. It was a scent that made his body relax, lured him into contentment with promises of safety. But it took him a moment to place it: his room at the Shadow Pack compound.

  He could smell the Shadow Pack’s scent. Their collective scent, mingling heavily in a conglomeration that was so full of family and home. All those scents paled beneath the umbrella scent of Arulean’s crisp, clean, earthy alpha smell, with flavors of Rajiah’s spicy and sweet omega scent. It was a scent that he rarely thought about, but he recognized it instantly. It was one that was built into him, one where his own scent mixed flawlessly. The scent of the pack.

  It prevailed over the entire compound and marked the surrounding territory. A lingering layer that was always there and always recognizable.

  Here, in the air surrounding him, he could smell his family. He could smell his own scent and Blake’s. He could smell how they mixed harmoniously, fitting together perfectly with that sweet after scent that came along with a mated pair’s combined scent. He could smell Lily, young, sweet, and fresh, smelling like the two of them but entirely like her own person as well. He could smell their combined family scent, layering over the foundation of the pack scent. It was all distant and faded, like stale air, a clear sign that they hadn’t been here in a day or two.

  He could smell the sour notes of their last conflict, before they left on their mission, tangled at the edges of their scent like a bitter reminder.

  Once it settled in that he was in his bed at the Shadow Pack compound, other memories started to filter in.

  Rajiah being kidnapped, his argument with Blake, leaving for the mission, Arulean defeating Thoric, Adalaide defeating Abel—pain. He remembered pain.

  As the memory came to him, his body recoiled from it. Shying away so dramatically that he physically flinched. He couldn’t quite get a grasp on it mentally. Couldn’t take ahold of that memory. His face twisted, body shivering in reaction to the faded memory of pain, of—of something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  A hand was laid on his shoulder, soft and gentle and kind. It drew him back to the moment, anchored him in reality, and pulled him out of the trauma of phantom pain.

  His eyes cracked open, heavy and weak, squinting and blinking against the light filtering through the windows beside his bed. He stared up at the familiar ceiling, seeing the polished wooden posts of his bed and the draped fabric. He felt solid again. Solid and attached. He was in his body, no longer drifting or distant. He was Dylan. He was here. And that was honestly a surreal experience. How much time had passed when he wasn’t himself?

  “Dylan?” The voice was soft and concerned, but with that edge of casual familiarity, of playful indifference. His head tilted to the side, vision sharpening and focusing on Cynthia, standing at his bedside, hand on his shoulder. She was dressed casually, in dark blues, greens, and blacks, her clothes loosely draped around her. When they made eye contact, she smiled, relief in her eyes even as the tilt of her lips was teasing. “Hey there, soldier. Nice of you to join the world of the living.”

  Dylan attempted to smile, but his lips felt odd and cracked. He hoped the sentiment was there. “Was I dead?” His voice was dry and hoarse with disuse, but his flat amusement came across all the same.

  Cynthia chuckled, squeezing his shoulder just a little. “You certainly gave it your best shot,” she teased, but he could hear her relief, the echoes of her fear. “Don’t do that again, got it?”

  He exhaled sharply through his nose in a barely-there laugh. “I’ll try.” His brow furrowed then, smile fading to a frown. He licked his lips, feeling how cracked and chapped they were. “What happened?”

  Cynthia’s smile faded, expression pinched in concern. When she spoke, her voice was wary, cautious, like she was hiding something. “You don’t...remember?”

  He sighed, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. His lips pursed in thought. “It’s…fuzzy. Bits and pieces, fragments. I don’t know what happened after Adalaide defeated Abel. I—” He cleared his throat, feeling tendrils of the phantom pain return, echoing in his limbs and his gut. He shivered, the memory tauntingly close to his grasp but remaining just beyond his reach. “There was…pain…”

  She nodded, looking relieved. “There was. You scared us.” She gave him a small, tight lipped smile. “The memory might come back eventually, but for now, Jesse needs to check up on you.”

  Dylan frowned, giving her a look. “What about—”

  Cynthia shook her head, decisive and firm, even as her voice was soothing. “I’ll explain it all later. Okay?”

  He nodded reluctantly.

  Jesse was there then, coming up behind Cynthia so quickly that he realized she must have been in the room the whole time. She gave him a small smile and reached out, pulling back his blanket before holding her hands out over his torso. She chanted under her breath, power in her words and her eyes backlit with a soft glow. Her hands glowed a soothing white as she moved them around his body. He could feel the gentle, soothing press of her magic. It was gentle and probing, without being invasive or harsh.

  Cynthia stayed by his side, hand on his shoulder reassuringly. He laid back and stared at the ceiling, trying to grasp the memory that still evaded him.

  He still felt tired and his body was exhausted. His eyelids were heavy and his mind was still slightly unfocused. It took a lot of mental energy to stay awake, but he wasn’t ready to sleep again. Not when he didn’t know what was going on.

  When Jesse stepped away, he turned his attention back to Cynthia. “Rajiah?” He asked. “Remi and Arulean? Lily?” He swallowed hard, uncertain why the thought of his mate was making his gut twist. “Blake?”

  Cynthia smiled, squeezing his arm, but the soothing effect was lost when he saw the sorrow in her eyes. “I’ll explain in a bit, okay? First we need you to drink something.”

  His brows furrow
ed. “What is it?”

  “Just a potion that Jesse has made. It’ll help the healing process.”

  “Am I—?”

  “You’re fine. But you did give us a scare back there, and we’d rather be safe than sorry.”

  She helped him sit up as Jesse passed her a large cup. Dylan took it from her, but her free hand hovered, helping him hold it to his lips while he drank. It was milky white, almost looking as if it was run through with silver. It tasted sickeningly sweet, a sweetness that clung to his tongue and throat like honey. He drank it all, and licked his lips as Cynthia took the cup away. She laid him back down, even though all he wanted to do was get up.

  He didn’t protest as she laid the blankets back over him. His eyes felt heavy, mind weighed down and drifting again as the fog seeped in. He tried to fight it, tried to stay awake, to seek out the answers.

  He tried to look at Cynthia, but her smile had faded, replaced by worry as she watched him.

  He realized too late that the potion was meant to help him sleep, and while he felt a spark of irritation, he couldn’t resist the lure of it. It weighed on him, dragging him down into the bed, pulling his mind to darkness.

  He finally gave in and slept.

  14

  When he woke again, it was much easier.

  He rose to consciousness slowly, but steadily, fixed and grounded in his body and mind. The fog was still there, but it had lessened. It made his mind feel heavy, but not dulled.

  The first thing he became aware of was a variety of scents, but he latched onto one in particular. Small and light, smelling of him, smelling of his mate. Lily. He used her scent as a grounding point, an anchor as he woke. He latched onto her voice first. He didn’t hear her words right away. She was speaking quickly, in tones that were supposed to be hushed but still rose in volume, like kids tended to do. He thought she might be talking about the gardens, but he wasn’t sure.

  He stared at the ceiling for some time before he realizing he’d even opened his eyes. He blinked against the light streaming in through his windows. It was faded and gray. It must have been cloudy outside.

  “Dylan?” The voice was soft, curious, teetering between hopeful and worried. It took him a second to place that honey rich voice. Rajiah. He blinked again, tilting his head to the side. Rajiah was sitting at his bedside, a chair pulled up close. When they made eye contact, the dragon’s expression smoothed out, a small smile playing over his lips. “You’re awake.”

  It was a stated fact, one that Dylan knew to be true, but it still struck him as strange. He felt odd, like something was missing, like he was missing something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. It made him feel like he was still dreaming.

  “Daddy!” Lily’s voice caught his attention before he could say anything. He lifted his head to see both her and Remi perched on the end of the bed. He felt an unexpected relief wash through him, one he hadn’t been expecting, followed by a warmth that caused the tension to ease out of him and put a smile on his lips.

  “Hey Lily,” he said, voice hoarse and cracked. His throat felt incredibly dry. Rajiah stood, leaning forward to help Dylan sit up and to prop pillows behind him so he could comfortably stay that way.

  Lily crawled across the bed, abandoning her conversation with Remi to crawl over to his side. She plastered herself to him, throwing her small arms tight around his neck. “You’re awake.”

  “I am,” he chuckled, though it immediately turned into a coughing fit. He had to turn away from her as his body was wracked with spasms, each one sending echoes of tension through his body.

  Suddenly, there was a water bottle being pressed into his hand, and he looked at Rajiah with a small smile of thanks. Rajiah returned it before leaning back. “I’m going to go get Jesse. I’ll be back momentarily.”

  Dylan sipped the water, sighing at the relief in his throat. He cocked an eyebrow. “Jesse?”

  Rajiah nodded, already making his way out of the room. “Yes. She is well practiced in healing magic. She’s been watching over you throughout your recovery.”

  “My...recovery?” He remembered pain, but not the source or the reason. His brows furrowed, lips pursing into a deep frown. “Rajiah—“

  The dragon held up a hand, offering him a small, kind smile. “Later.” He paused in the doorway. “After we make sure you are healthy once more.”

  Before Dylan could ask more, Rajiah was gone, and he was left with Lily and Remi.

  Lily settled down next to him, and he leaned back against the pillows, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her to his side. His other hand rested atop the covers, protectively over his swollen belly. It was habit at this point to put his hand there, but...there was something different in the gesture now. A strange sense of relief and protectiveness ran through him. More than usual. It was odd, but he shook the feeling off.

  Lily told him about the things he had missed in the couple days they had been gone. She told him how she had made a couple of new friends. She told him the status of the garden. She told him that she didn’t like some of the adults set out to watch her, and how she had led the other kids in an escape mission, ‘just like daddy and papa!’ He wasn’t sure what to make of that, so he just smiled.

  He listened attentively, but mostly he just let her words wash over him. Her voice. Her scent. She was family. His daughter. His flesh and blood. Even now, he had a lot of apprehensions about settling down. No matter what Blake’s reassurances were, he still felt like he was actively failing Lily as a father. He wasn’t there for her as much as he would like to be because his own restless, soldier nature kept them apart.

  But that didn’t mean he didn’t love her. He loved her with all he had to give. Just having her there, safe in his arms, was a relief he didn’t know he needed. A balm to soothe a worry he didn’t realize that he carried. She was one of the pieces that made him whole, and he felt better just having her here.

  Lily. The child he carried. They were all pieces of him. They were only missing one piece: Blake. But...His eyes traveled around the room. He saw no sign of his mate, nor of his things. He gave a curious sniff, searching through the scents in the room. He smelled Blake, but it was faded and old, remnants from before they left. Nothing recent.

  Where was his mate?

  If Dylan had actually been injured, then he knew Blake would stop at nothing to be by his side. It was as endearing as it could be frustrating, but it was fact.

  Unless...something had happened to him?

  Dylan’s chest tightened, and he had to force himself to continue to breath normally. The kids were still to young to smell the rising fear and panic in his scent, but he had to keep his appearance under control. He didn’t want them to worry until he knew for sure what had happened.

  The longer he sat there waiting for Rajiah, the more burning his questions became. They were an itch beneath his skin, rattling around in his mind and sitting on the tip of his tongue. His body practically vibrated with anxiety, with the need for his mate. His omega called out to him, reaching through the invisible bond they shared, but he got nothing in return.

  It only made his worry worse.

  When Rajiah did finally return, it was with Jesse in tow, along with Kara. They both smiled when they saw him. Jesse was a little more shy, but Kara was far more direct.

  “It’s good to see you awake,” she said, sincere and genuine. Her voice and scent as soft and crisp and clean as he remembered. She had a way of being direct but calming at the same time, and he found himself settling despite his worried nerves.

  “It’s good to be awake,” he replied, fingers absently running through Lily’s hair. Hair that was reminiscent of Blake’s.

  “We have every reason to believe you’ve made a full recovery,” Jesse said, coming to stand by the bedside, pushing her long sleeves up to her elbow. “But we just want to make sure. May I?” she asked, gesturing to him.

  “Uh, yes,” he said, uncertain as he tentatively pulled the blankets back, exposing hi
s torso. He vaguely remembered her checking his belly before, which could only be indicative of something wrong with...his baby.

  A spike of phantom pain shot through him, making him tense and stiffen. Flashes of memories that he couldn’t quite grasp flickered through his mind, gone before they made sense.

  Jesse glanced at him, but reached forward anyway. She hovered her hands over him, chanting under her breath as her hands and eyes started glowing with the same soft white light as last time. Dylan’s breath caught in his throat as she hovered her hands over his belly, but he released it with shuddering relief as nothing seemed to be amiss.

  Kara stood next to Jesse, one hand curiously placed on the witch’s back as she watched the proceedings. Her scent was prevalent, calm and soothing.

  Lily curled up at Dylan’s side, eyes wide and curious, mouth hanging open as she watched the witch work. He wasn’t sure if she knew what was happening, but she was fascinated by it all the same. Rajiah hovered on the opposite side of the bed from the witches, he had stepped a few paces back and his arms were crossed over his chest. His expression was pinched but closed off, and Dylan had a hard time reading him.

  Remi, who had been sitting by himself at the foot of the bed, crawled forward as the witch began to work. He sat close to Dylan’s side, watching the witch’s hands as they moved up and down Dylan’s torso. He watched with rapt attention, eyes bright and attentive, brows furrowed just slightly, and lips pursed.

  As the witch pulled away, white light fading, Remi leaned forward. Without hesitation, he placed a hand on Dylan’s pregnant belly, small fingers spread wide. It wasn’t the light, curious touch of a child. It was firm and decisive. He closed his eyes for a second, face scrunched up in concentration. Then he opened them, face relaxing as he smiled, nodded once to himself, and then leaned back.

  He rocked backwards, turning to look over his shoulder at his dad. “He’s okay.”