by V T Bonds
I glance toward my teammates, looking past my omega’s silvery hair to see their reactions.
Vander stands unmoving in the doorway, his feet in the same position they were when she began walking toward him, his torso twisted as he looks over his shoulder at the omega jaunting away from us. The shock plastered on his face shows how flabbergasted his mind has become.
A connection wavers between them, but it wasn’t there a few moments ago. The sound of footsteps coming from deeper in the facility breaks the moment.
“Go, now. Exit strategy,” Vander snaps.
Frustration emanates from Dirk, and the mutinous expression on his face makes me fear for the safety of our rescues.
If he goes charging down into the snake pit, the omega over his shoulder won’t survive. Jumoke and Vander will chase after him, while Seeck and I extract the omegas we found.
A tense moment passes, then Dirk stomps after the odd omega. He speeds down the passageway, leaving the rest of us to dart after him.
When the rope pulls tight in my fist, I realize my omega can’t keep up. Not giving her a chance to balk, I turn and snatch her feet out from under her. Her squeak and snarl are hard to ignore, but I push the urge to correct her away.
“Be still,” I growl, and her struggles cease. Between my command for her to come with me and the new addition to not move, her body sits rigid in my arms. Her mental defenses are rock solid, and I push the desire to test them away.
She’s not heavy, but she fills my arms in the best way possible. Having her so close, feeling her weight against my chest, and smelling her wondrous aroma makes it difficult to focus on my surroundings.
Keeping two paces behind Dirk, I sprint back the way we came, the escape hatch our main objective.
Launching up the tilted hallway, I lean forward, shifting my weight with each push up the inclined floor. One feminine hand clutches my bicep, and the feel of direct skin on skin nearly short circuits my brain.
With a hard cock and soft omega stealing my attention, I almost miss the confounding events transpiring above us.
The dark-skinned omega holds up a little object and smirks in glee. Vander curses at the rear of the formation, his sharp words carrying disbelief and anger.
She presses the ignition button on the communicator wristband she stole from Vander, unperturbed when a billow of smoke fills the hall from the little patch on the handle.
Hidden in the smoke until she twists the handle and pushes open the door, our senses ring with her delighted laughter. The wind whips away the sand blown onto the door and sucks the smoke out into the desert sky. The stars aren’t visible, the wind kicking up so much sand the night seems blurry.
She scrambles through the exit. Dirk catches the door just before it slams shut. He uses his force to shoulder it open, his muscles taut with the effort. The omega on his shoulder senses his distraction and wiggles in vain.
How the hell did such a little omega lift the heavy door with the added weight of sand on top?
Dirk flings the hatch all the way open, jumps out, and reaches a hand back to help me up. I snag his wrist and hop into the elements, holding my lifemate close to my chest.
I move forward, giving Seeck space to pop out of the darkness, the form on his shoulder making his silhouette look like a misshapen monster. Jumoke vaults out, then Vander catapults out of the hole, not accepting Dirk’s outstretched arm. He jettisons into the desert, his movements manic. His shoes pump into the sand as his eyes scan the horizon.
“Where the fuck did she go?” he screams.
He continues away from the hatch as though he’s forgotten the mission, beelining toward a destination that makes no sense.
Dirk slams the escape hatch closed and we all take off after Vander.
A Sky-Flyer lowers into the sandstorm, it’s lights off and noise dampener making it look like a dark cloud.
Dirk yells at Vander, yanking his attention back to the main issue at hand. Vander lifts his arm behind him, flipping Dirk off.
With a burst of speed, Jumoke catches up to Dirk and takes the omega from him. Seeck is the first to reach the Sky-Flyer, jumping through the small access port opened on the side. His eagerness to return to Nova rules his actions. Jumoke reaches the Sky-Flyer and pauses, watching Dirk catch up to Vander.
Fists and feet connect as they grapple, both using the exertion to relay their frustration and anger. Aggression fills the air surrounding them.
Blood splatters in the sand, but neither seems close to calming.
“Take her, too. They’ll get us all killed, and that’s my job, dammit,” Jumoke snarls.
Without time to decide, I flip my lifemate over my left shoulder and accept the wriggling omega from Jumoke. As he sprints away, I duck through the little opening, squatting low so I don’t hit my cargo on the ship.
I power through the maze, going straight to the room we’ve assigned for our return.
The Sky-Flyer is a medium sized deck, one outfitted for the military, but discharged years ago. We’d acquired it three years ago on a mission and stashed it between two major cities located near sector limits. With the amount of metal littering the desert between the sectors, it probably would have remained undetected indefinitely. We’d prepped it without Command’s knowledge. Our secret caches throughout the planet have supplies unavailable to the public.
We knew starting the engine, and therefore the computer, would alert Command’s databases, so Jumoke played around with the system while the rest of us inventoried what was available.
As we always do with our hidden bunkers, we’d stocked it with enough food and necessities to hide five Alphas away from the world for three weeks. Yet, this one also had leftover things from previous use, as well as extra first aid kits, fuel, and other items we’d stashed away.
Arriving at the designated room, I spot the omega Seeck had carried lying in the corner bed. Other than the rise and fall of her chest, she doesn’t move. The rest of the room is empty, and I hear Seeck greeting Nova in the cockpit.
Standing in the middle of the room, I debate my next move. With both shoulders weighed down with a woman, and one still struggling, I have limited options.
Not knowing the condition of the female fighting her restraints, I flip my lifemate off my shoulder and onto the bunk next to the occupied one. She screams as she falls, but the noise cuts off when her back hits the bed.
“Stay,” I growl, keeping her leash in my grasp.
Tucking the omega’s legs to my chest with my forearm, I tie the end of the lead around my left wrist. If my lifemate decides to bolt, she’ll only get about five feet before reaching the end of her line.
I look down at her, taking in her beauty. Her hair spreads out on the white sheet, some of it covering her face. Her vibrant green eyes peer through the tangled net, hatred shooting up at me. Her twisted gown pulls tight against her breasts, and the luscious curves make me want to toss the weight off my shoulder and fall on her. I want that flesh in my mouth.
Biting the inside of my lip to distract myself, my growl strengthens as I catch sight of her lower half. The askew gown exposes her thighs, the flip off my shoulder causing it to rise. She uses her wrapped hands to push down the edge, but I catch a glimpse of the silvery hair between her legs.
Snarling in outrage, I gulp in big breaths of air, fighting to do the right thing. Her body responds to my reaction, the scent of her ripening making my battle much more difficult.
The omega over my shoulder reacts too, and the sugary smell so close to my nose snaps me out of my tailspin. Her scent is not what want to smell and having it next to my face makes me want to wash out my sinuses.
She doesn’t smell sick, but there’s only one woman’s pheromones I want to fill my lungs with.
Turning to the next bed, I ease the omega off my shoulder, supporting her shoulders and neck with my arm in case she’s injured.
Either Vander or Dirk gagged her, and the reason is obvious. Despite no one being aroun
d to save her, and no one wanting to hurt her, she’s doing her best to scream. The gag looks like a thin strip of leather around her face, but it’s a high-tech piece of gear. It seals her lips closed using benign particles, energized by the movement of her cells. The resulting affect also traps her vocal cords, prohibiting them from vibrating and making noise.
I’ve had this contraption used on me before. It doesn’t hurt and will only cause damage if left on long term—it would take weeks of constant use for it to hurt her.
Her back arches as she lays on her because her restrained arms. The bottom edge of the white gown rests along her lower abdomen, the quick changes and being held over multiple shoulders causing it to reveal her lower half.
With her ankles bound together, she tucks her knees to her chest and tries to kick me, but I catch her ankles and pin them to the bed.
The rope around my wrist pulls, and I snarl as I imagine my lifemate trying to run away.
Going still under my hands, the Omega in front of me stops fighting. Her eyes roll back, and the scent of slick fills the room. Scrunching my nose at the potent smell, I yank down her gown until she’s covered.
My teammates had better get here soon, before I snatch up my Omega and lock us away in my makeshift den.
The itch under my skin and irrational annoyance makes my eye twitch. With the seething black cloud in my chest obscuring the future, I almost miss the signs.
The chaos of the last few weeks has made me ignore the telltale tightening of my spine—my body preparing for Rut.
This is the last thing we need right now—an obstacle that could destroy our lives if we don’t take precautions.
If I’m close to Rut, then so are the rest of my teammates, except for maybe Seeck since he’s newlywed. Within the next two weeks, we’ll be slaves to our base instincts.
It took four or more Betas to slake our desires before we broke from Command. We can’t go into Rut with Omegas nearby, or we'll mate and mark them, whether or not they are our lifemates.
And claimed omegas don’t like to share.
We have to get these women someplace safe—somewhere away from us. As soon as possible.
Chapter Eleven
Dirk
My temple throbs in pain, the swelling pulling at my eyelid. Vander landed some wicked punches, but so did I. His jaw has a large purple splotch near his left ear.
Boarding the Sky-Flyer is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to force my body to do.
“How the fuck did she just disappear?” Vander mumbles as he pushes past me in the tiny passageway. Jumoke seals the port behind him, his raised eyebrow warning of a stupid remark.
“She ghosted you, old man. You must be going soft,” Jumoke goads.
Vander’s still too hyped to muffle his response. Between one step and the next, his body launches by me and tackles Jumoke. Jumoke smashes into the corner, the impact ringing through the hull of the ship. Vander’s roar drowns out all other noise.
I keep making my way toward the infirmary. Jumoke deserves all the damage Vander can give him. The floor under me shakes with the skirmish down the hall, as well as little shifts signaling we’ve lifted off the ground.
The connection in my chest twinges, and I stop before I reach the doorway to the first aid room, leaning my forearm against the wall and resting my head on it.
I block my turmoil from entering my link with my lifemate. She needs my strength and comfort, not my devastation.
We were the closest we’ve ever been distance-wise, but the furthest away from being together. If it had been only me to think about down there, I would have charged through the entire facility and massacred anyone stupid enough to stand between myself and my omega.
It hurts. I need her—I would feel complete with her in my arms, but instead have to deal with failure and disappointment, while pretending to be strong and confident.
I take a moment to let the foul emotions run rampant in my veins, using these few seconds alone to wallow in abject woe. I’m envious of Seeck and Kwame, and full of self-hatred at how terribly I’m handling this.
Jumoke’s mirth-filled words echo down the hall, his scuffling with Vander still in full swing. They’ve moved closer, and soon they’ll either tear the ship apart or cool down.
Taking a huge inhale, I fill my lungs until they hurt. I push the toxic emotions into the air occupying my chest, then exhale. Shoving the rest of the negativity into a mental box, I use my training to lock it and shove it into a corner of my mind.
When I open myself back up to my lifemate, she’s frantic. I stop myself from snatching at our link. Instead, I imagine using steady, firm hands to wrap around the fragile strand, pretending it’s her flesh I’m stroking.
She calms, and her immediate reaction warms my heart. I push the pleasure her responsiveness gives me into our connection, giving her as much comfort as I can. Her health has improved, but she’s still so fragile I fear her life could be snuffed out at any moment.
Assuring myself she’s no worse than she was before our mission began, I lift my head and push off the wall. I shake out my hands, my knuckles sore from brawling with Vander.
A sharp ache flares from my shoulder blade, shooting across my shoulders and racing down my spine.
The old goat still has some strength left in him—his kick lingers as the adrenaline from the fight wears off. My lower back twinges as a strange noise emits from the infirmary.
Pushing away the pain, I step into the doorway. The first thing I notice is the rope between Kwame and his lifemate. She sits huddled against the headboard, hatred sparking from her green eyes. He’s got his work cut out with that spitfire.
My eye catches on the omega in the corner bunk.
Reacting on instinct, I grab a specialized box off the wall and dart to her. As I flip open the lid, the first layer pops forward, revealing a pad of disinfectant. I pin her seizing arm to the bed and rub the open end of the box on the crook of her elbow. Shaking the box so the layers rotate, I stick the needle where I just wiped and squeeze.
Her muscles relax, the medicine quick-releasing into her circulatory system. Her sweat and slick soak the mattress, the acrid smell making my stomach churn. Vander’s angry shout echoes into the room, and even with the medicine in her veins, her muscles tense. Using long strides, I stalk to the fighting Alphas and grab them both by the face, ignoring the pain of their fists colliding with my hip and ribs.
“One of the omegas is sick. You’re making her worse with your aggression. Get a fucking hold of yourselves and quit acting like children,” I snarl, my control wearing thin. A few more rounds of fighting would expend the roiling energy in my body, but wouldn’t help the situation.
With my palms over their faces, their dilated pupils peer through my fingers. Vander’s rich brown irises snap back to normal, almost as though he never lost control in the first place. Jumoke’s hazel irises stay thinned, his pupils refusing to return to normal.
“What the fuck is up with you, Jumoke?” I ask, letting go of Vander. I move my hand from Jumoke’s face to his shoulder, softening my stance to settle my teammate.
Instead of calming, his breathing quickens. He swallows a few times, forces a big gulp of air into his lungs, then exhales for as long as he can.
Which is pretty fucking long, since the asshole specializes in running his mouth.
“Nothing.” He pushes past me, sauntering down the corridor as though he doesn’t have a care in the world.
A feminine snarl from the omega’s room snags my attention.
Chapter Twelve
Britani
The contrast between his handling of me versus her is startling. Whereas he tossed me on the bed and glared at me, he used careful movements and worried eyes with her.
For some reason, that sparks anger within me. I want to lash out, attack him while his back is turned to me, but his words hold me hostage.
Wait, he told me to stay. He didn’t say how long or how still I have to be. Keeping m
y mental shield up, I let my body move, testing the boundaries of his command. His will sits heavy between my shoulders, but my muscles aren’t frozen in place like they were with the other Alpha.
Is he weaker than the other Alpha? Or is he not as focused? Or am I not interesting enough for him to torment me like the other man would have?
The lethal air around him erases my thoughts of him being weak. He catches the other woman's ankles and shoves them down to the bed. My eyes zero in on where their skin meets.
Fierce emotions ricochet through me, and the hurt makes my instincts edge closer to the feral woman buffering me from the world.
My fingers hurt, not because of the bindings, but because no matter how hard I claw at them, I can’t break the restraints. In fact, I can’t make them tighten or loosen. Whatever witchcraft he performed on the rope will not budge.
Using slow movements, I roll to my side and try to sit up. Without the use of my arms, my abdominals strain until I’m upright enough to brace my bound hands on the mattress. I shift toward the wall near the pillow, alternating between pulling with my arms, scooting my butt, and pushing with my heels.
I can see some of the Alpha’s profile from here. His broad nose and strong cheekbones lend a firmness to his features that leads me to question my next move.
Should I move back to where I was? How will he punish me if he expected me to stay where he put me?
I have no doubt he’s capable of terrible things, and the easy way he manhandled me makes my stomach tighten. I hate how my core has slicked for him.
As if someone sticks a straw into my veins and sucks, my adrenaline flees.
My body feels bruised. Every jostle and stress my body has been forced to endure vies for my attention. On top of that, a heaviness sits in my lower abdomen, one reminiscent of how I’d feel before my menses began when I was Beta. This feels worse, though. Way worse.
Did the inspection injure me? Or maybe his broad shoulder caused damage?
I refuse to dwell on the other possibility. Too much has happened to think about more bad things entering my life. As I brace my back on the wall and pull my knees up, tucking them between the restraint around my elbows and my chest, the rope pulls taut.