Only Perfect Omegas: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance Series (Rebel Werewolves Book 1)

by Rosemary A Johns

  Please, please agree…

  Moon smirked. “I promise that you’ll give me an A for Effort.”

  “I doubt it,” I muttered but I still withdrew my shadows in a slither from Moon, before drawing them back inside.

  Moon shuddered, slumping over. “Did you have to push your tentacles into every hole?”

  I blushed, but my shadows vibrated in as close to a snicker as they could manage. I knew that I should punish Moon in some token way — make him face the corner, at least — but I’d never do such a thing in front of his brother, not whilst I had any choice over it.

  All of a sudden, Okami woke up in my pocket with a growl, flying out in an enraged blur of silver when he scented Moon. Okami circled Moon, howling in joy that he’d returned, before biting Moon’s ass with a satisfying munch. Even through his trousers, I had enough experience to know that Moon had to feel that, even though he only gave a manly grunt.

  Justice was served Okami style.

  Okami rubbed his head under Moon’s chin, waggling his own ass, until Moon gave in and stroked his ears. Content, Okami settled on his shoulder.

  Then my armful of warm Omega was joined by a second one, as Moon snuggled next to his brother, claiming his favorite place on my neck, whilst his arms wound around both his brother and me.

  “Thank you,” he breathed.

  My eyes smarted with tears. I’d never been cuddled in quite the way that Moon cuddled with a closeness and love that was unfamiliar and overwhelming but I wanted it. I could feel Moon’s lips against my neck, as he smiled. His hair was fabulously pettable.

  It hit me then that having Moon safely back and happy was worth going against witch law. I’d protect my pack, which now included Moon’s brother. Although, Moth didn’t look like he should be out of High School in a world that wasn’t messed-up, and how did I take the leap from killing houseplants to caring for a kid barely out of puberty?

  At least I wouldn’t be alone when it came to babysitting.

  “Zetta, stop tonguing my guys, yeah?” I yelled up at the ceiling.

  A chuckle burst from the walls, as the bed burped, and the angels and Amadeus were hurled in a tangled heap of feathers and sinful beauty at my feet (and how had Amadeus managed to make even that fall look graceful?).

  Ramiel shook out his wings in distaste. “I imagine that’s what it feels like to be swallowed by the giant mouth of a Gateway.”

  Mischief brushed his hair out of his face. “Only if you add in being fried and torn apart.” He cocked his head and studied Moth. “Oh, how delightful, a cub.”

  Moth’s eyes narrowed, and he bared his…adorable…teeth. “I still have fangs.”

  Mischief hid his laugh behind his hand. “I apologize: a cub with fangs.”

  Moon relinquished his favorite place at my neck to smile at Amadeus. It was gentle and familiar in a way that twisted at my insides because I wanted him to look at me like that, only I knew that if they were best friends or at least, once had been, then for wolves that meant they’d known each other for centuries. Had they loved each other for that long as well?

  “Prince of the Gods and second Charm.” Moon inclined his head.

  Amadeus slunk to his feet, before tracing his gloved hand down Moon’s cheek, as he had mine, in greeting; Moon arched into his touch. “Prince of the Wilds and first Charm.”

  Was that…banter? Were they taking the piss out of themselves or me…?

  I twisted around to my guys, whilst the two Omegas clung to me. “Three princes…” I pointed at each of them in turn. “An archduke and an angelic warrior. I don’t think any of you can scoff at me as the spoiled brat of the party. And it’s Moon who behaved just like I was always taught werewolves would…as a criminal savage.”

  I regretted my choice of the word savage the moment that I’d used it. But you know, you can’t take words back, even if I’d have given my blood magic privileges not to have taken a private story that he’d told me about the savage children becoming prized as Moon Children instead…and hurt him with it.

  I’d expected Moon to have ripped me apart with the intimate details that he knew about me in revenge, but instead he only studied me with sad, disappointed eyes. And that was worse.

  It was Amadeus’ gaze that darkened. I’d never seen him look at me with anything but obedience and adoration before, but the power that my pleasure had thrummed through him glowed now, and he looked anything but submissive. “You know nothing about our lives.”

  Moon kissed behind my ear, almost in apology. “Or are struggles.”

  Anguished, I gripped Moon’s chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. “Then freaking tell me.”

  The silver in his eyes flashed, before it settled into something far more fragile. The tremors running through him, shook me. If he’d had to suffer, then the least I could do was listen to the truth, and I didn’t want to be ignorant of this supernatural world anymore.

  “How about I show you?” Moon whispered.

  I jolted, before I nodded.

  When I loosened my hold on Moon’s chin, he glanced to Moth for permission, before he hovered his hand over his collar. I stiffened. If he interfered with the collar, then Moth would be poisoned like I’d poisoned Moon by mistake on the first day.

  Moon met my worried gaze. “Don’t fuss, it’s one of the collar’s functions. Omegas aren’t simply tracked; we’re also monitored at all times, especially in the center. Some bastard Alphas like to check that we’ve been obedient all day or rewatch their favorite highlights.”

  Moth pulled back from me, ducking his head, as he flushed. Moon’s silver slipped into the collar, and a life-size hologram burst out, which was so bright and close in front of me that I could’ve reached out and touched but honestly, even the thought of that was enough to make me hurl.

  Moth was naked. An Alpha dragged him on a leash into a marble room with a bath, which was just like the one in the Wilds that I’d pampered myself in; it even smelled the same of ylang ylang.

  How could I smell it?

  Moon and Moth had both paled, and they looked closer to puking than me, swaying and holding each other up.

  Had this happened to Moon as well? Was that why he’d refused a bath, preferring the cold tap outside? If he’d been traumatized by the oils and bath at the center, go figure.

  In the hologram, it was the same dick of an Alpha in a leather uniform with her hair pulled back from her hawk-like face, who’d hit Moon with her cane, when I’d chosen him at the center. She forced Moth onto his back, before massaging the oil into every part of his body. I fought not to look away. Then she pulled him over to the bath, which bobbed with ice water.

  Holy hell, she wasn’t going to dunk him in there…?

  “Time to be cleansed, Om.” The Alpha wrenched Moth up by the hair and hurled him into the water.

  When Moth struggled, gasping to the surface, she held him under again.

  Recoiling, I looked away, as my throat burned. The ylang ylang caught in my nostrils, and I never wanted to smell it again. I was desperate to run from this cleansing because it was just a couple of minutes of what Moth had suffered today. Who knew what happened in a week or month? And I knew that the same had happened to Moon.

  How did he still have the courage to be my rebel Omega?

  Moon snapped his silver out of the collar and to my relief, the hologram shut off, although that floral scent still hung in the air like a curse.

  Moon embraced his brother, rubbing his shoulder in comforting circles. “You can’t bear to watch even a single punishment? You’re soft for a witch.” He patted Moth’s curls. “When I was in the center, I protected my brother’s hide and made sure that the punishments fell on me. But once I was chosen as your Charm…? Yet on my fangs, it’s not even the worst fate held over Omegas because there are nightmares like the Re-education Center, which I’ve been threatened with since I was no more than a cub.” He shuddered. “My brother was only taken to the center because of me. You’re not so d
aft that you can’t see I couldn’t leave him there?”

  Mischief’s wings spread in sudden sparking splendor, as he stepped past me to stand at Moon’s shoulder. “He’s your brother. Only the foulest fiend would expect you to.”

  Mischief’s challenging gaze met mine. He wasn’t going for subtle. I nodded: message received.

  “I may not demand your worship, or even that you trust me with your secrets, for believe me, I understand their necessity, but I do demand that you do not run without me.” Mischief’s silver sprayed in a sudden burst over Moon, who shot out his magic in apologetic answer. The two arcs met and entwined.

  “How could I abandon my god?” Moon said, softly.

  Ramiel swooped over my head, before landing next to Mischief in a display of angelic solidarity. Amadeus glanced at me anxiously from underneath his eyelashes, but still sidled past, before winding his arms around Moon and pressing his lips in a chaste kiss to his neck.

  My guys were making it clear: they were prepared to take the risk for Moon and his brother, even Mischief and Ramiel who didn’t love him like Amadeus did. How could anyone think that a single one of them wasn’t brave, kind, and…

  Who were these assholes who got to make the decision on what perfect meant anyway?

  “This is how we Omegas live for years to prepare us for the Bite.” Moon straightened his shoulders. He didn’t look like any of the other Omegas that I’d seen, but then maybe they loved their own rock bands, snuggling, and had secret names as well, only they weren’t the prince…and were too frightened and conditioned to show it? Mischief had said that the responsibilities of royalty were hard to bear. I’d scoffed at the thought but now I realized that he was right. I knew so little of what any of these supernatural royals had suffered…or were sacrificing…for their people. “Don’t tell me that I’m criminal or savage for saving my brother.” I winced. “I’d be just the sort of wolf who the witches believe me to be if I’d left him…all of them…behind and,” Moon pinked as he fidgeted, “allowed myself to enjoy the luxuries of living as a tamed bitch with you. We have a duty to save them and, on my fangs, that’s how we prove our worth. Are you on our side, Crimson?”

  I’d grown up in America knowing almost nothing about this supernatural world, apart from the fact that it’d torn apart my family and terrified me. Yet what if those werewolves weren’t all my enemies, but in fact some of them needed my help? What if there were other terrors, from which it was my true duty to protect the monsters?

  I’d never thought that I’d be on the side of a werewolf. Yep, I was one eccentric witch.

  Mischief raised one imperious eyebrow, whilst I looked between my guys who stood united. I couldn’t be their enemy. “Duh, of course I am. You’re my pack. But first—”

  “But first, pretty peach,” Stella’s voice sliced through my mind like a knife, “you’ll answer to me for allowing your bad Omega free in the Wilds. And what else…? Right, I know: permitting that sweet but sinful cub out of Wolf Kingdom. You were meant to pick one Omega from the Training Center and not get all greedy with two.” When I crumpled to the floor, clutching my head that was shot through with pain, Moth whimpered. Okami flew to wipe at my face in comfort, as I was surrounded in an angel and wolf huddle of whispered concern. Yet Stella only tutted. “I ordered you to solve a murder. Instead, you become the criminal. And the House of Seasons punishes criminals.”

  Suddenly, the garnet ring vibrated. Adrenaline flooded my chest, as I scrambled at my finger, which was being boiled from the inside. But it was too late to stop Stella.

  “Hide the cub,” I hissed, shoving Moth into Mischief’s arms and nodding at Okami to stay with him.

  Then I pulled Moon onto my lap, whilst grasping my other two Charms’ wrists. The blood magic flared, dragging us with punishing force through to the House of Seasons and making me scream.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The third time that I was wrenched to the House of Seasons by blood magic, I knew that I’d become more comfortable with my witch side because the way that it bubbled my blood and coated my tongue in a coppery tang didn’t disturb me. What did mess with my head…? The way that I tumbled into a room that was like the inside of a cauldron with shadowy arches and seats all around it, as if I was in a show for an invisible audience, whilst raised on the platform on fur thrones were three creatures from my nightmares: robed witches with wolf masks.

  I shrieked, scrambling backwards on the smooth floor. My crimson shadows whipped out in automatic defense, but instantly they were seized and forced back inside me by metallic shadows that wove out of the ceiling and pulled me up, until I hung with my arms above my head, unable to move.

  When my guys had suggested pinning my arms, warmth had unfurled deep inside, until I’d tingled at the sexiness of their touch. Being bound, however, with those dickhead witches behind masks (please, please be my aunt), I was chilled by how terrifying and constricting it was. My hands clenched convulsively, whilst my red snapped in fury at being unable to escape.

  I wasn’t missing the karmic irony either because I’d turned Moon into a puppet just like this. Did he feel humiliated and helpless too, when I used my crimson against him as a weapon, rather than for comfort or pleasure?

  Sweat dripped down the back of my neck, dampening my mom’s cape. The chamber was stiflingly hot and stuffy.

  Breathe, just breathe…

  Where in the witching hell were my Charms? Why had I thought that I could protect them? I hadn’t even been able to save my parents. In panic, I stared around the room that was covered in wolf pelts, which hung like cocoons. There was nothing reassuring about the fact that they were white wolf fur because how many Omegas had Stella Claimed and then killed? Or Lux?

  What was the bet that Lux was one of the assholes under the wolf masks?

  “Welcome to the Justice Chamber,” the masked witch on the central throne crowed, “where naughty rebel and rogue witches are judged. Although, you do take the record, by the way. It took you less than a week to be summoned here.”

  Thank Jesus, it was Stella, enjoying her moment of Satanic horror.

  How did Stella know about the laws that I’d broken? Unless, Zetta had been sneaking the highlights of my failures to her…? As long as that hadn’t included my intimate moments because not only was that overshare but Stella would love all the kinky details. I knew that I couldn’t trust an entity that dressed up in my dead mom’s skin.

  Yet I couldn’t help the pride warming me because how often did I get told that I had the record for, like, anything…? Top Rebel had a certain ring to it. I should get it printed on a mug, keychain, or t-shirt.

  I swung in my bonds. “Hey, Aunt Stella, what’s with the stringing up with shadows first, talk later? Where’s the champagne and strawberries?”

  “Thanks for worrying about me, but I’ve already eaten.” When Stella slunk to her feet, sidling towards me, I cringed away from the bizarre sight of the wolf mask above her bronze robes. She clucked in concern. “When wicked wolves still terrify you, why do you risk so much for them? Have you forgotten that you promised me you’d never mistake one for perfect?”

  “There’s a little thing called being presumptuous, you know. Who says that I have?”

  “There’s also a little thing called being…” Stella twirled around me. “…bound in a Wolf Charmer Trap.”

  Was it possible for a wolf mask to be smug? Because Stella’s mask was managing it.

  I yanked at the metallic shadows harder, whilst my crimson ones crashed in furious waves inside me. I felt sick at the false chains on my magic, which were artificially holding it back. Mischief had told me about the way that witches branded mages to bind their magic just like this. I hadn’t been able to imagine it fully, only that I’d known that it’d been a violation, which I’d never inflict on anyone. I didn’t care whether someone was my enemy, I’d still known what Mischief had described was wrong.

  Now my own aunt was controlling my magic in the sam
e way. Was this one of those sketchy details that my uncle had simply not told me...that witches were assholes?

  “Do you like the Trap?” The witch on the right-hand throne (Lux by the oiled slither of the voice), stared at me blankly through the mask. “I’ve been developing it to hold you for years in case you went…wrong.”

  And that wasn’t creepy at all.

  I wiggled my hand as much as I could in the direction of the final witch on the left-hand throne, who was fidgeting anxiously. “This is me trying to wave at you, Ivy, but I’m all tied up right now. It is you under the Halloween mask…? Can you help a girl out here?”

  “My goodness, you’ve no idea how much I wish to.” Ivy leaned forward, tilting her head. “Aquilo is quite beside himself with worry. I had to whip him soundly, simply to shut him up about the whole thing.” I winced. It sucked enough both that I was in danger and didn’t know where my Charms were, without Lux’s pretty twin suffering to try and save me as well. I didn’t know why it flooded me with such warmth that Aquilo cared what happened to me. “My son’s so soft that he’d let you go without any consequence or perhaps it’s that he hopes you’re interested in him as a husband, after all. I can’t imagine that you are, after his shameful performance with your wolf.” She sighed. “I hoped to train and guide you myself because I—”

  “I’m tired,” Lux muttered, “I call the start of the trial.”

  Wait, did she just say trial…? I paled and gulped down breaths to keep silent.

  Then Lux pointed at Stella, who’d curled her arm around my waist like she was about to spin me into a dance, rather than decide whether to kill me. Honestly, I didn’t know which was worse. “Judge.” Then she rested her hand over her mom’s, as if to stop her fussing. “Jury.” She leaned forward with far too much eagerness, whilst stroking down her own furry cheek. “Executioner.”

  Why was it no surprise that the girl who’d liked to bully kids and wolves had grown up to take the role of executioner? At least she’d found a hobby, in which she could be truly passionate.