He shoves the phone in his pocket and goes to find Aaron.
AARON
dark kohl eyes and sheer white robes
Aaron sits on one side of the small room, the other omegas sit on the other.
Everything is white: the plastic chairs they’re sitting on, the floors, the walls, and their sheer see-through robes.
The only color is on the omegas’ faces and hair. Each has had their eyes lined with dark kohl. Pale foundation and blusher has been rubbed into their skin to disguise the dark circles under their eyes, the sunburn and exhaustion.
Aaron shifts in his chair. The robe isn’t uncomfortable. It’s silky soft and clings to his skin, dipping to a deep vee over his neck and shoulders to better display the bite. Only the make-up plastered onto his face is uncomfortable. It itches in the desert heat. That and the pinprick on his forearm where he’s been injected with something yet again.
A couple of minutes after the needle broke skin, his hunger and thirst suddenly dissipated and energy returned to his legs, filling him with an unexpected sense of calm.
Perhaps omegas having hysterics or collapsing from exhaustion is a bad look, he thinks.
After being dragged through the door – they could have just asked nicely – he’d been thrust under a hot shower where a pair of indifferent betas roughly washed him from top to bottom with ruthless efficiency.
Then came the robes, the make-up and the needle where he was clearly last in an assembly line of omega prettification.
It should mean he’s going through the ceremony with the others, but that doesn’t explain why he’s been singled out and made to sit apart.
He scans the faces of the omegas opposite. The blond girl he spoke to in the medical room before the run is there. Her pale hair has been scraped back into a braid and threaded with silver. There’s a single neat bite mark on the right of her neck. Aaron hopes that means her alpha is one of the kinder ones.
She meets Aaron’s eyes, then her gaze flicks to the mess at the side of his neck. She doesn’t flinch, but when her eyes meet Aaron’s again, there’s a sense of resignation in them and it’s not hard for Aaron to see what she’s thinking.
You survived.
It’s the most important thing after all. There seem to be fewer omegas than started the run but Aaron wasn’t in a state of mind to count them at the start so he can’t be sure.
The red-headed one who had supposedly remained unclaimed for three runs in a row isn’t there, but Aaron has no idea whether that means he’s escaped from the alphas four times now or simply not made it through at all.
He hopes it’s the former.
There are people arriving outside. He can make out the general low-level hum of people talking and shuffling chairs.
How many? he wonders. How many people have turned up to watch the omegas being handed over like so many pieces of meat?
Is that what passes for entertainment in this disgusting town? he thinks. He seems to remember someone on a forum saying there were hundreds at her ceremony, although with hindsight, he can’t sure.
The door opens and another alpha blood wolf enters. He leans over and whispers something to one of the alpha guards.
They both look at Aaron.
“You,” the guard says. “Over on that side.” He nods at the chairs on the other side of the room.
Aaron lets out a breath he wasn’t sure he was holding. He’s going through the ceremony. They’re going to let him go.
He gets up and crosses the room with a sense of disbelief, taking the single remaining empty chair.
Suddenly, he feels himself start to well up and his eyes start to burn. Whatever they gave him to calm him down clearly isn’t enough to slow the tide of emotion.
It’s almost over. He made it.
He reaches up to wipe away a tear, and feels a sharp elbow poke into his side.
“Don’t cry,” the omega beside him hisses. She’s a tiny little thing, dark hair shaved close to her scalp. “They don’t like that. We’re not out yet. Oh, here we go.”
There are guards filing in through the far door. Aaron wonders what they’re for. Not like we’ve got anywhere to run to.
Maybe omegas do run, he thinks. They might not get far but it doesn’t look good, like collapsing at the ceremony or having tear-smeared make-up.
“Stand up. Form pairs,” one of the guards bark.
The guards gesture to the far door and all the omegas stand up and form pairs obediently, Aaron and the shaved-haired omega at the back of the queue.
He absent-mindedly rubs his thumb and index finger together as he waits, feeling the bump from where the beta medic took blood earlier.
It can’t have been to confirm the claiming had worked properly. They wouldn’t be letting him go if he’d failed.
Suddenly, he wishes he were front. They can still stop him from going through. They won’t take him away in front of everyone at the ceremony.
At least, he doesn’t think they will.
The pairs start moving through the door at the far end of the room and the girl beside him stiffens.
Aaron reaches over and briefly squeezes her hand, then pulls away. It’s as much a gesture of reassurance for her as it is for him.
She gives him a small smile and visibly relaxes, perhaps taking her own advice to not upset the blood wolves. He hopes she found a decent one. The bite on her neck isn’t as neat as the blonde girl’s but it’s not a bloody mess either.
They follow the last of the omega pairs out of the door. Aaron’s eyes widen.
He’s been so absorbed in worrying about the ceremony that it’s a surprise when the door opens onto the outside, revealing a long narrow stage under a bright moon.
The audience has been split in two with a wide aisle leading down the middle. The alphas wait on stage like bridegrooms.
Blood wolves form guard pairs at either end of the omegas.
Aaron swallows as he waits for the omega pair in front of him to start moving. He wracks his brain for the memory of what the ceremony actually entails. It wasn’t what he had focused on. Working out how to find food, water and avoid alphas always seemed more important.
He shuffles over the red sand, staring at his feet as they kick up dust and are coated in red up to the ankles. He doesn’t want to meet the gazes of the audience. He’s completely bare under the sheer robe and he’s all too aware of how revealing the sheer white material is.
He can feel the gazes on his body. He shivers, a small flush of anger flowing underneath the calm of whatever they injected him with.
It’s not enough that they have to be run down like prey animals. They have to put them on display afterwards too. Might as well truss them up like deer and carry them down the aisle.
Vultures. The lot of them.
The stairs to the stage are made of rough-hewn wood. He steps carefully, sole of his feet flat down so he doesn’t get a splinter.
He raises his eyes and the first thing he notices of the alphas opposite is their lines of shoes.
They’re not going to get splinters. He hates every single of them.
Oh.
Gregor is there: shod like the others, but also wearing clothes. It makes him look different: more civilized. His hair is still damp from his shower.
God, he’s handsome.
Worried blue eyes meet his own.
You okay? Gregor mouths.
Aaron swallows and nods.
In the middle of the stage, one of the blood wolves has started speaking: some drivel about ancient rites and the power of the wild.
Aaron refuses to pay attention to any of it. They made him go out there. He doesn’t have to listen to the jerk ramble on.
He’s only half aware of when the first of the omegas is called forward. He keeps staring at his feet.
Get it over with, numbskull.
A cool breeze has picked up, catching at the material of his robe and raising goosebumps across his bare skin. His legs are starting to fe
el weaker, the effects of the injection wearing off. He hugs his arms to himself and sends up a prayer for it to be over with.
“Aaron Schibold,” the blood wolf says, and he startles.
The guards tense as his name is called, waiting for him to refuse or run away.
He steps forward slowly. This is it. This is the end of it.
He stands next to the blood wolf and looks up to see Gregor an arm’s width away from him. There’s some deep emotion in them.
Aaron frowns. He doesn’t need sympathy. Okay, maybe he needs it but he doesn’t want it.
The blood wolf warbles on about strength – Gregor, apparently – and vulnerability – Aaron, it seems.
Screw you, Aaron thinks.
“Please put out your wrists,” the blood wolf says.
Aaron obeys and a bright red ribbon is tied around his and Gregor’s wrists binding them together.
The blood wolf grins, his teeth startlingly white in the night air.
“I’m also pleased to announce the first confirmed breeding pair of the evening,” he says, looking at Gregor. “Congratulations.”
White-cold shock slices through Aaron’s body. His thumb automatically touches the raised bump on his index finger. Of course, that’s what they were testing for.
He starts to look up, reaching for Gregor but the injection finally fails. His legs give way and he collapses to the stage.
GREGOR
unearned certificates and a howl at the moon
“Whoops,” Corrigan says as Aaron falls at his feet, half dragging Gregor down with him. “Overwhelmed with excitement, poor thing.”
“Must be,” Gregor says through gritted teeth.
The ribbon binding them together makes it difficult, but he manages to get an arm under Aaron and help him to his feet, half-carrying him to the end of the stage.
The guard at the end folds his arms.
So, they’re waiting for everyone to be done then.
He finds a place at the back to stand and lets Aaron put his weight on him.
“Hey, are you okay?” he whispers.
Aaron nods. He’s lying warm and soft against Gregor’s side. His hair smells of something floral. He smells good. Gregor wants to press a kiss onto his forehead and tell him it’s going to be okay, but he’s not sure if Aaron would welcome the first and he has no idea if he can even promise the second.
At least the wound on his neck is healing. There’s no scent of infection. There’s no scent of pregnancy.
Maybe they lied.
One look at Aaron’s face and a good dose of common sense tells him that it’s no lie. It is a mating run after all. The clue’s in the name.
A pup. Or two. He does have twins in the family after all.
A pup with Aaron.
God, he wants it so bad even as he knows he shouldn’t.
He shouldn’t have loved having their wrists bound together either, or seeing Aaron look so beautiful dressed in pale white.
He closes his eyes. Get a grip, you jerk. Aaron didn’t want this.
He holds Aaron close under the pretense of supporting him while they wait for the rest of the pairs to be called up and go through the ceremony.
It’s almost certainly the last time he’s going to get the chance and he is supporting him. It’s not just an excuse.
He sees the wiry wolf and the giant one come up to claim their omegas.
He doesn’t see the blood wolf who scratched him by the river and that does give him a certain satisfaction until he remembers that it only means that the jerk will probably do it again next year.
It’s another half an hour before they get through everyone and another two omegas have fainted and been scooped up by their alphas.
The last pair finally join them on the other side of the platform.
Corrigan raises his hands to the sky and Gregor resists the urge to roll his eyes. There’s something about pack leaders that attracts the theatrical in some people.
If he ever starts getting like that, he’ll ask Luke to take him out back and shoot him. And then bury him under the greenhouse because it’d be nice to stay close to his cuttings.
He rubs his eyes with his free hand. God, he’s tired. That’s the kind of thought that comes when you’ve had three too many drinks and not enough sleep.
Corrigan has been saying something because suddenly everyone in the audience stands to attention, faces fixed on the moon.
Now what?
As one, they all begin to howl. The howl is picked up by the alphas on stage.
What the actual fuck...Oh god, don’t be the odd one out now. Just do it.
Gregor raises his face to the sky and howls like a lunatic with the rest of them.
The mated pairs start moving off the stage as the howl begins to die down. Gregor keeps his arm around Aaron’s waist as they navigate the stairs.
There’s a guard at the bottom stopping each pair in turn.
“Name?”
“Gregor Winterstoke,” Gregor says. Now what?
“Here you go.” The guard passes him a piece of thick paper.
Gregor glances at it.
It’s titled ‘Certificate of Claim’ and has his name and Aaron’s and the date.
Sales certificate, Gregor can’t help thinking. He wonders if alphas ever try make a return. He’ll bet at least one has.
He folds it and tucks it into his back pocket.
The pairs and audience are dispersing. None of the blood wolves appear to be interested in them.
Gregor stays alert anyway. Aaron’s not safe until they’re back in Aylewood in the Winterstoke packhouse.
The short walk to Dan’s car takes a lifetime. Gregor half-expects to be stopped at any moment. He hasn’t heard from Luke but he’ll have followed his instructions. Corrigan is satisfied – or at least satisfied enough – to let them go.
Dan holds the back door open as Gregor helps Aaron in.
“What’s wrong with him?” Dan asks.
“Exhaustion mostly,” Gregor answers. “Definitely some blood loss.”
“I see.” Dan is staring at Aaron’s neck with a horrified expression. “What the hell happened there?”
“Long story. Let’s just get out of here.”
“Absolutely. Been waiting all week to hear you say that.”
No one stops them as they drive away from the registration center or through the town of Blood Moon.
It’s only once they’re a good thirty miles away from the town that Dan turns to him and says, “Enjoy that?”
“What?” He can’t mean the Red Run. No one sane would enjoy the Red Run.
“The howling. Looked kinda cathartic.”
“It was, actually,” Gregor says, and it had been. He’d put a lot of rage into that howl. He turns around and checks the back seat.
Aaron is curled up asleep on his side, mouth half open and squashed into the seat. “He needs some proper food and a proper bed. That was...horrible for him. You know, you hear of these kind of things but you don’t really think about it until you witness it. At least, he gets to come home with us. The others weren’t so lucky.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you okay?”
Gregor shrugs. “I’m fine. Nothing that won’t be fixed by a burger and a nap. Maybe a few stitches.” His various injuries can wait until he gets home.
Dan glances at the sat nav he’s got up on the screen on his phone. “It’s probably another hour until we’re out of blood wolves territory, and there’s a decent motel another half hour after that. You two can get washed up and Aaron can have a change of clothes. I also know exactly where to get the best cheeseburger you’ve had in your life.”
Gregor turns away from the back seat. He feels like a creep watching Aaron sleep. One glance to check is fine. Staring is not. “Deal.”
He watches the scenery as they pass. It’s still red sand and rocks, interrupted only by the occasional adderthorn tree and
low-lying scrub: a long way from home.
He glances into the back again.
“He’ll be okay,” Dan says.
“I know,” Gregor says. He’s not sure if he’s going to be.
I’m going to be a father, he thinks. The thought of Aaron carrying his child is deeply satisfying. It’s also psychotic and creepy. Aaron didn’t want this.
He didn’t choose any of it. Even his heat was forced on him.
Nothing else. Gregor feels it like a tightening to the chest. He’s not going let Aaron ever have to worry about being forced again.
He leans back in the seat and tries to think. It’s twelve hours until they’re back in Aylewood. It’s not nearly long enough to work out how to put this right.
AARON
a motel and a no-assed plan
Aaron wakes when the car rolls to a stop. He opens bleary eyes just as Gregor opens the door and gets out of the car.
He’s wide awake in an instant. “Where are you going?”
It’s still full night outside but the windows of the car are streaked with light from streetlamps. Gregor pokes his head back inside the car.
“To get us a room. We’re at a motel. I’ll be back in a minute. Stay there.”
Aaron shakes his head in a panic. “I’m coming with you.”
“Not dressed like that you’re not. Stay with Dan. I won’t be long.”
Dan.
His eyes are drawn to the man in the driver’s seat who turns round when his name is mentioned. Aaron vaguely remembers him from the end of the ceremony. He’d held the car door open while Gregor helped him in the back.
This was the man who was supposed to meet them beyond Thorn Peak before Gregor’s half-assed plan went wrong.
Half-assed isn’t even right, his brain supplies. It was a no-assed plan.
He tells himself to shut up. That no-assed plan got him out of the Red Run alive.
“Hey,” Dan says, waving hello from the front seat. He doesn’t offer his hand to be shaken and that immediately earns him good guy points in Aaron’s book. Maybe it’s just coincidence or maybe he realizes that an omega in Aaron’s position really won’t want to touch a strange alpha round about now.
Winterstoke Wolves Collection : An MM Mpreg Shifter Romance Bundle Page 65