The White Omega: Hell's Bears MC Book 2

by J. L. Wilder

  “It’s more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt,” I say. “It’s more powerful than hunger. I could more easily go without food than without Caleb.”

  “No wonder you’re both suffering so much,” she says. “I had no idea. I didn’t know it was that intense for you. I thought it was just...basic desire.”

  “That’s why what Dan is doing is so awful,” I say. “It’s not just that he’s forcing me into this against my will, which would be bad enough. But he’s forcing me to do something that feels counter to the laws of nature. There is nothing in me that can accept Dan as a mate.”

  She reaches into her sweater pocket, pulls out a can of soda, and hands it over to me. I crack it open. The cold fizziness is so refreshing that, for a moment, I can almost forget my troubles. “Thanks,” I say after a long swallow.

  “What are you going to do?” Alex asks.

  “I don’t think there’s anything left that I can do,” I say. “I think Caleb was really hoping that telling Dan the truth would work. That he’d be persuaded to see our side of things. But, obviously, that didn’t pan out, so what else is there?” I shrug helplessly.

  Alex throws her arms around me. “I’m not giving up, okay, Jacie? I’ll be thinking about this. If I come up with anything that might help—anything I can actually do—”

  “I know how tightly you’re bound,” I say. “I understand. I really do.”

  “But I want you to know that my heart is on your side,” she says earnestly. “You’re not alone.”

  For a moment, I almost confide my secret in her. I do believe what she says. She’s on my side. She wants to help. Maybe she could advise me. Maybe she would have some idea of when and how to spring on Dan the fact that I’m not subject to his commands.

  But in the end, I decide to keep it to myself. After all, Alex isn’t free the way I am. No matter where her heart lies, she’s bound to obey Dan. And the moment she walks out of this room, he could order her to repeat everything we’ve said. She wouldn’t give me up willingly, but she could be forced to.

  I can’t trust anyone. I need to find a way out of this mess I’ve gotten myself into, and I need to find it fast. And I need to do it all by myself.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “We ride tonight,” Dan announces one evening at the dinner table. “Everyone eat well. We have a long journey.”

  I don’t know what to make of that—what does he mean by a journey? Where are we going? —but the words do seem to have meaning to everyone else around the table. Caleb, in particular, reacts, gripping his fork so hard it bends a little in his hand. I take in the strength of that hand and remember how careful he always was with me. I’m so hungry for him I feel like I might die.

  “Do you need to stay behind?” Dan asks Caleb.

  “No,” Caleb says shortly.

  Alex looks troubled. She leans in and whispers to him, but he shakes his head once and that appears to be the end of that.

  The rest of the meal is eaten in silence. Everyone is eating well, of course—it was an order—but most people look as though they aren’t really enjoying their meal. Bill eats robotically, his attention on anything but his food. Mary works her way methodically around her plate as if her sole function is to clean it rather than to savor anything. Caleb shovels food into his mouth quickly and furiously.

  What does everyone look so worried about, I wonder? The last time we rode together was wonderful. And I’m sure I won’t be permitted to ride with Caleb again—that would be too much to hope for—but maybe I’ll be put with Bill or Mary. That would be all right. A night out of this house, under the stars, sounds like exactly what the doctor ordered.

  When the meal is finished, everyone puts their plates in the sink to be dealt with when we return, and we go out to the garage. There’s the row of gleaming motorcycles, waiting for us. Freedom, that’s what this represents. Finally, an escape from the gloom of the house where I’ve been trapped for so long.

  “Jacie,” Dan says, and my head jerks up. “You ride with me.”

  What? A small noise of protest escapes my throat, but I tamp it down quickly. I can’t argue with him. He’s the alpha. I can’t let him know that I have the power to argue.

  Caleb, though, hasn’t been given a command yet. “Let me take her, Dan,” he says. “We rode together last time. She’s afraid of the bikes, but she’s comfortable with me.”

  “Like I don’t know what’ll happen,” Dan sneers. “You get her on a bike and you two will ride away together.”

  “All you have to do is order me not to do that,” Caleb says, his fists clenching and unclenching. “You know you have all the power here. I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere once you said the word. Besides, I’m not going to leave my sister behind with you.”

  For a moment, I dare to hope Dan might give in—Caleb makes a lot of good points—but he just laughs. “Come on, Jacie,” he says. “Let me show you what real power between your legs feels like.”

  I feel sick, but he’s beckoning me over now and I know I can’t resist without showing my cards. I drag my feet as much as I can without giving the game away. I know from my experience in Blind River that what I’m feeling now is fairly close to what it actually feels like to be under the power of an alpha. I’m not physically compelled to obey, it’s true, but I still have no power to resist.

  As I walk by Mary, she presses a helmet into my arms. It occurs to me that Dan might not have given me one, and that passing on this piece of safety gear is Mary’s tiny rebellion, just as giving me the knife that’s still nestled in my boot was Bill’s. The two of them really do care what happens to me. And even though they don’t have the power to overthrow Dan or even to resist his commands, it’s nice to feel like somebody really cares.

  I climb onto the back of Dan’s motorcycle and he throws his leg over the seat in front of me. “You’d better hang on to me,” he says when my hands find the handles beside my seat. “I’m a rough rider.” And he winks at me. It’s disgusting. Just talking to him makes me want to take a shower.

  But it’s better to be disgusted than smeared on the side of the road, so I lean in and wrap my arms around Dan’s waist. I resist gripping his body with my thighs. I don’t let my cheek rest against his back the way I did when I rode with Caleb. But I do hold on. Because I don’t want to die. That’s the only concession I’m willing to make.

  Dan kicks the motorcycle into gear. Around me, seven other bikes rumble to life. I wish I had one of my own. I wish I could go on these rides without clinging to someone like a parasite. But it’ll never happen. Dan is only capable of seeing me as property, as his or as Caleb’s. He’ll fight Caleb, destroy Caleb, for ownership of me, but it will never occur to him that I might like ownership of myself.

  This time, it’s impossible to enjoy the night ride. The only good thing about it is that it serves as a release. Tears I haven’t cried in days trickle from my eyes and are immediately jerked away by the wind, whipped out of sight, leaving my face dry and untelling. I cry for the loss of Caleb, who I love more than I ever believed possible, jerked away from me by Dan’s order. I cry for the emptiness I’ve felt since the last time we touched. And then the fear of what Dan is going to do to me wells up, overwhelms me like a wave, and I choke on my own tears.

  I’m so lost in the deep well of my own misery that I lose track of where we’re going, and I’m taken by surprise when I feel the motorcycle come to a stop. Dan’s steadying weight leaves the seat, and I’m not prepared. I tumble off sideways, thrown off balance.

  Dan laughs unkindly as I scramble up off the dirt. “We run from here,” he says.

  And then, all around me, everyone is shifting.

  I’ve never been part of something like this before. I’ve shifted in my room in Blind River, but that’s such an unnatural experience that I never really enjoyed it. I was never invited out on runs with my old pack. But Dan, for all his flaws, is including me in a run. A real run. I’ve always wanted to go.

&
nbsp; I step behind a tree to strip off my clothes and drape them over a low hanging branch. Then I reach out for my bear self and step into her. I feel my muscles strengthening, my claws lengthening, my senses of hearing and smell sharpening. The woods around me seem to wake up, becoming more vibrant and alive. I step out slowly from behind the tree and into a ring of brown bears. They all stare at me, and I know what they’re seeing. My bright white fur. My narrower face. I’m not like them. My differences have never been so sharply apparent.

  One of the bears lets out a growl, and the others growl back in reply. I can’t tell them apart in this form, but the leader, the one who growled first, has got to be Dan. He turns and runs deeper into the forest, and everyone else follows.

  Is this the moment? Is this when I should leave the Hell’s Bears? I could turn and run in the opposite direction. There would be nothing to stop me. Dan probably assumes I’m bound by his order, we run from here. It might be some time before he even looks over his shoulder. I could put a lot of distance between us.

  But I can’t. Even as the thought is occurring to me, I know I can’t. And I know in that moment that I’ll never be able to. I can’t run away from Caleb. No matter what it brings, no matter what I know is going to happen to me if I stay, I can’t leave Caleb.

  I run after Dan, after the others, into the dark of the forest.

  Dan calls a halt to the run in a clearing a few miles away, wheeling around and falling into an even pace. Mid step, he shifts back into human form. He’s naked, of course, and he’s repulsive. “Everyone fan out,” he says. “Create a safe perimeter.”

  The others—still in bear form—follow his order. I move to join the perimeter.

  “Jacie,” Dan says, “You shift. Now.”

  No.

  It was a command. I have to obey it. I have to, or he’ll know.

  I know what will happen if I shift back, if I resume human form. It’s hard to imagine that there’s ever going to be a command I want to obey less than this one. This should be the one, then, that I refuse. I’m a bear. He’s a human. He can’t hurt me.

  And yet something—some instinct—is telling me no. This isn’t the time. This isn’t the stand I need to make. There will be a better time to resist him. This isn’t it.

  I don’t know what to do, but Dan is waiting, and I have to trust my gut. It’s all I have.

  I shift back, feeling my way into the soft vulnerability of my human body, naked and alone in the middle of the woods, and Dan says, “Let the ceremonial circle now commence,” and the moment has finally come.

  Chapter Twenty

  I’ve never yearned for my bear self as much as I do in this moment. The thick cover of my fur. The muscle that pulls through my limbs and across my back. My sharp claws, untested so far in my life, but so much more powerful than my weak human hands. I can feel my body trembling, trying to change back in response to the fear. It takes everything I have in me to stay human.

  The grizzly bears circle me, their dark eyes watching me. It’s impossible to read their faces. Some of them, I’m sure, are enjoying my fear and misery. Some of them—Caleb, certainly—are yearning to put their bodies between me and Dan. But they have their orders. All they can do is circle us.

  Once the perimeter is established, they begin to shift a little. Backward and forward. Some sit down, or even lie on the ground, heads on their paws. One of them—and I have such a strong feeling that it’s Bill—turns his back to us. I look from face to face, trying to identify Caleb, but my mind is hazy with fear and the night is dark. I can’t be sure.

  Dan steps into the center of the circle. “Tonight, in the ceremonial circle, Jacie and I will mate,” he announces. “I’ll impregnate our omega, and our pack will grow bigger. It’s a night of celebration. The rest of you will bear witness to this event.”

  The wind gusts against my naked body. I’m shaking.

  Dan holds out his hand. “Jacie,” he says. “Come to me.”

  I can’t move.

  He’s going to find me out. He’s going to figure out that the tattoo isn’t working on me. And there’s no reason to make a stand right now, because he’ll just grab me and throw me to the ground and do whatever he wants anyway, and I’m surrounded by these bears, and my white fur will show up like a headlight in the dark woods if I try to shift. I can’t escape this. But I can’t make my feet walk toward him, either. I’m too afraid, and too repulsed.

  And then something flashes by me, a rush of dark fur, a roar of sound.

  It takes a minute for me to understand what I’m seeing. One of the bears has broken ranks and attacked Dan. Caleb. How could I have failed to realize which one he was? Of course, it’s him. As soon as he moves, I feel gravity change. The pull of the imprint between us is stronger than anything I’ve felt tonight. I want to throw myself into the fray, pin Dan down, make sure Caleb is safe.

  Caleb gains the upper hand easily. He’s in bear form, after all, and Dan is human and taken by surprise. Caleb pins Dan heavily to the ground with a paw to the chest. I want to shift, but too many eyes are on me. I don’t dare.

  Dan looks up at the bear above him and smiles. “Get off me, Caleb.”

  I can see Caleb trying to resist.

  “Get off,” Dan says. “Resume your human form and walk back to the perimeter.”

  And Caleb does. The air seems to shimmer around him as the bear fades into the strong man whose body I’ve come to know as well as my own. He looks like he’s fighting against invisible restraints, lunging forward even as his feet step backward into the line, into place. The smile on Dan’s face widens and my heart sinks.

  Then several things happen all at once.

  As if they’re responding to a signal, the bears around me break out into fights. One of them gallops across the forest floor toward Dan, lips peeled away from teeth in a furious snarl, and I know instinctively that this must be Alex, furious at the way her brother was treated, taking up his fight. All around me, the woods fills will with growls, snaps, and snarls, and the bears behind me are on each other, fighting each other. I smell the bitter tang of blood in the air. Someone’s been hurt. I can’t tell who. I can’t tell which of the other five are where.

  Caleb howls in pain and frustration, unable to break free of the command on his body. I know he wants to move. He wants to join his sister in the fight. It’s awful to be alone, to be human in the middle of this animal violence, but there’s nothing we can do. We can’t even go to each other. Dan’s order is still in effect, keeping us far apart.

  Dan, somewhere under the mountain of Alex, shouts an order— “Alex, drop!”

  She falls backward, away from him—he yells, “Freeze!” and she’s immobilized—and the fights behind me are still raging, aren’t breaking up, and as I see Dan search the tangled bear limbs, I realize he doesn’t know who’s fighting who. He doesn’t know who’s winning.

  He may not even know who’s on his side.

  Alex and Caleb have revealed themselves. I think it’s clear that Miles and Luce are with Dan, and that Bill and Mary side with me. I don’t know where Joe falls. But the brawl taking place in front of us is too messy to break down. It’s not clear who’s fighting who, or why.

  Dan watches, waiting for resolution, for answers. He could order them apart, but he doesn’t.

  Alex lies prostrate on the ground. She shifts back to human form, cursing and spitting, screaming obscenities at Dan in the night, and he ignores her.

  And Caleb. He pulls at nothing at all, the very air holding him back. He aches to jump into the fray. It’s written all over him. He’s ready. When we spoke before, in my room, about the possibility of his trying to overthrow Dan, he resisted. But now that we’re here, now that everything is on the line, he’s ready to take the chance.

  Alex howls on the ground.

  Someone behind me lets out a roar of pain as claws meet flesh.

  Caleb screams my name— “Jacie, run, just run!”

  “Jacie, stay,” D
an says. His voice is so calm. So assured. None of what’s happened tonight worries him at all. He can’t be touched. He knows he can’t be touched.

  But he can.

  The idea emerges fully formed in my mind. I’m the only one who can do it. I’m the only one who can change the tide of this fight and save the Hell’s Bears—my pack, I think, they’re mine, I love them—from the tyrannical alpha they’ve been living under.

  I’m the only one who’s free.

  I pull out my hidden knife. I palm it carefully, keeping it secret. Dan isn’t really watching me. Nobody is. Why should they? I’m just an omega. I can’t do anything. I’m not good for anything except having cubs. I’m no risk to them unless I shift, and I wouldn’t dare shift, would I, not with that bright white telltale fur.

  I move slowly, edging my way closer. I won’t pull their attention to me. Let them watch their fight.

  I move out of Dan’s line of sight. The brawl is getting more violent. I’m actually afraid of what might happen if I don’t hurry. Miles is so big, so muscular. I’ll never forgive myself if Mary gets hurt fighting him. I know she’s strong. It takes strength to command those motorcycles. But she’s not as young as she used to be either. I need to move quickly now.

  I flick open my knife. I run the pad of my thumb across the blade, testing it. My pressure is gentle, but I feel it part my skin, spilling my blood. Good. I want it to be sharp. I want it to work.

  I step up behind Dan—thank God he’s so short—and press the point of the knife to his throat. At the same time, I grab his arm and twist it behind his back. He could break my grip, of course, but my knife is right up under his jaw, the point of it already digging into his skin, and he can’t move. I feel his chest stutter as his breathing falters.

  I bring my gritted teeth next to his ear. “Let my boyfriend go.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The clearing goes silent. Abruptly, no one at all is moving.