by V T Bonds
He growls, and I grit my teeth against the pain in my lower abdomen.
A roar shakes the bed under me, and a rush of fear brings my adrenaline back.
The largest person I’ve ever seen before steps into the doorway. I hunker my shoulders, tightening the rope more. The golden haired behemoth’s eyes sweep the room, then he bursts into action.
My instincts cause me to shrink away as he leaps across the room and blocks my view of the omega in the corner bed. It seems less than a second before he stalks through the doorway again, leaving without another glance.
The din of fighting from the other side of the wall stops, and the quiet makes my hackles rise further.
Awareness of the dangers lurking within the ship piles more adrenaline into my muscles, and I twitch. Torn between warring instincts, I’m not sure whether to close down like I did during the inspection, or attack like when I first met the man on the other side of my restraints.
I check my invisible cocoon, finding it solid and safe, and turn toward the dark-skinned Alpha.
My omega side takes control, snatching everything away from me except the shield I hold over our soul. Following orders I don’t give, my body lunges forward, an inhuman snarl ripping from my throat, the inability to use my arms unimportant.
The sight of him caressing the other woman’s face makes me want to sink my teeth into him until he bleeds. The urge to maim him, hurt him beyond repair rules my actions, and I don’t have the will to fight such intense instincts.
I’m airborne, my lunge off the bed scooting the entire frame backwards. Hitting solid muscles, I expect him to lose his balance and fall over, especially since he’s bending over the other bed. Instead, my shoulder feels as though it connects with a brick wall.
Once I recoup from the impact, my focus zeros in on his exposed flesh. I seek his nape with the only weapon I have available—my teeth.
With most of my body on his back and my arms pinned between us, my toes scramble for purchase on the smooth floor. As I slide further down, I miss my opportunity to bite him.
Massive hands clamp onto my shoulders, but the terror I would have felt a moment ago is nowhere to be found. An unhinged monster controls me, and she needs blood.
The hands pull me away from my captor, and my snarls hurt my throat. Angry someone would dare to stop me, I stretch my neck and clamp my teeth on whatever I can reach of the dark-skinned Alpha.
All I catch is shirt. The fabric rips, but another material stays solid against his skin. With a strip of cloth hanging from my clamped jaws, I work my toes against the floor, trying to reach my target.
A fist flies toward me, and I brace for impact. No pain flares. The man behind me grunts as the punch connects with his face.
The Alpha on the other end of my ropes has become a different person. His lip is raised in a snarl and his eyes emanate hatred. The sight makes my stomach hurt.
Another fist swings, and the hands leave my shoulders.
Heat envelopes my front, the dark-skinned Alpha snatching me off the floor and plastering me to him. The move is unexpected, and new sensations bloom to join the fiery anger in my chest.
Waves of pleasure assault my senses, the wild side of me basking in his form. His sturdy arms and solid chest make her want to rub against him. They make me want to rub against him.
I growl, stuck in a cacophony of desires.
His scent hits my nostrils and I groan. Without my permission, my body reacts to his touch.
The first Alpha had to growl to get me to respond. If he had been closer, would my body have reacted the same way?
My captor clutches me closer, shuffles back against the wall, and growls. The deep timbre overflows with ominous warning.
My stomach tightens and wetness drips onto my inner thighs. The feral woman inside me preens and demands his attention.
I scramble for control, the implications hitting me full force.
She wants to mate with him. She wants him to shove his cock into her, slake all her desires, and fill her with cum. She even aches for his knot.
No. This is just another bad trial to push through. I must rein her in. I’ll never survive something so awful.
“Okay, okay, Kwame. Look, I am away,” a masculine voice breaks into my panic.
He snarls and squeezes me tighter, the breath pushed from my lungs. Between his strong grip and my confusion, I can’t get enough air. My head begins to spin, and I struggle to suck in oxygen.
My shield stays strong, though. Nothing perturbs the weight of the blankets I have piled high in protection.
More wetness slips down my thighs as he snarls again.
Silence fills the room as the males calm, but his grip never loosens.
His voice rumbles through me and I almost miss his words, their effect stealing my attention. A shiver races down my spine and the weight in my lower abdomen grows heavier.
“Rut will come soon. Omegas need convent. Sector One.”
The silence feels more potent, and I realize other people have entered the room. My new senses tell me two other Alphas have joined us, their aggression a tangible thing.
My holder’s body hunches down as though to shield more of me, and his muscles vibrate with tension.
“Fuck, I thought our old man just had good aim. Kwame is right, we’ll go into Rut soon,” says the man my detainee just punched. The males begin to inhale as a collective, but stop short.
“Probably because we’ve exposed ourselves to so many Omega pheromones,” a guttural voice responds.
A little noise leaks out of me, my ribs complaining about the pressure of the arms around me.
“Move,” the Alpha holding me snarls.
Their feet make no noise, but I sense them relocating as a unit, converging on the other side of the bed I previously occupied. Since I pushed it when I leapt off, it’s the furthest they can go from us and still be in the room.
I crane my neck and see his vein throbbing along the lithe column of dark skin. I twist to see who else is in the room, but his fingers weave into my hair and yank my face back to him.
“Only. Mine,” he snarls, and my stomach cramps. His eyes hold manic intent, flicking between the other men in the room and me.
I hiss at him; angry he’s manhandling me. I balk, even as a part of me unfurls and relaxes.
He can’t squeeze me any harder without breaking a rib. His hand in my hair pulls until I fear my neck will snap.
My heart freezes in fear, then gallops into my throat. I have no way to protect myself, my efforts doing nothing but exhausting my body. The only part of me I can keep from him is my soul, and the fragile connection I’m harboring would be smashed by an Alpha like him.
His teeth settle over the side of my throat. I let loose a half-snarl half-whimper, expecting his canines to pierce my skin.
Instead, his tongue laps at my flesh, and the weight in my abdomen doubles.
He jerks his head away, sneers over my head, and mashes my face to his chest. Lifting me so I can’t reach the ground, he steps forward, leaving the room behind.
I don’t like the feeling of being carried. My arms no longer have circulation and I can’t breathe with his arms crushing my ribcage.
A door shuts, and he let’s go of my hair. As I peel my face off his shirt, I hear a snick. A quick glance reveals he’s locked the door—multiple times.
The lighting is dim, but I can see his features, despite his dark complexion. I try to think of a way to escape, but with his arm still holding me to him and his scent filling my nose, I can’t.
He’s too big, too strong for me to overpower. He turns a knob on the wall and the light gets brighter.
He buries his face in my neck and grabs my hair again. The most beautiful sound reverberates from his chest, and the part of me that began unfurling earlier stretches in delight.
My thoughts scream at it to stop, to quit being so stupid. I can’t want this Alpha. I need the man on the other side of my heart’s link, no
t this monster that’s mistreated me.
I clamp down harder on my defenses, angry to have lost control. My breasts ache for caresses and my legs drip with slick. Groaning, I try to get away, but my efforts only lead to my gown riding higher on my legs.
“My omega,” he breathes onto my neck.
My breath hitches on a sob, the Beta in me warring with the omega. I want to murder him, fuck him, and get away from him at the same time.
He pulls away from my neck and studies me with his rich brown irises. Seeing my expression, his face closes down, all emotion draining from his eyes.
As if it causes him great pain, he releases me and steps back. Another sob wrenches from my chest, and I feel as though I’m being ripped in two.
I’m relieved he’s let me go.
I hate the distance between us.
Chapter Thirteen
Kwame
If I had the ability to change our initial meeting, I would. She looks angry, confused, and lost. From the feral beast I first met, to the fierce omega that attacked me in the infirmary, and now the lost female standing in front of me, I don’t know how to handle this. My Alpha instincts demand I take and claim, but with the life I’ve lived, I have first-hand experience with seeing a broken woman. I don’t want to break her. I want to love her.
How do I get her to open up to me? How do I show her I’m her lifemate?
I could force her to the ground right now and claim her body, but she’d probably close her soul to me forever. Even if I forced a bond on her and connected our hearts, she’d always pine for the man she thought she lost. I feel that conviction in my marrow, the black tendril of premonition behind my breastbone pulsing in agreement.
I want to rip my hair out in frustration, but keep my outward appearance neutral, trying to assimilate the information I have.
We are lifemates. She was meant to be mine.
We found her in a scientific research facility. One that specializes in dynamic experiments.
She was dead, but now she’s alive.
And she’s changed on a fundamental level. I feel it, an odd disconnect in her aura.
Fuck, she was Beta before the transporter accident, wasn’t she?
That suspicion needs confirmation, but she’s not able to speak. She stands where I left her, crying huge tears, threatening to destroy my years of training.
If she’s a new Omega, she faces similar issues Nova overcame. Although, maybe it was easier for Nova to accept, because she was ignorant of dynamics. It’s hard to deny the existence of Alphas with five of them surrounding you.
My Omega wouldn’t be fighting disbelief. No, she’d be fighting stereotypes, an altered body, and new instincts.
I must comfort her. I can’t stand her tears anymore.
As soon as she registers my purr, she snarls and shuffles backward. I cut off the vibration, realizing she can’t trust the urge to relax into my instinctual reaction.
When quiet sits heavy around us, I run my hand through the short, tight curls on my head and swallow.
I sing. At first, my voice holds little emotions, easing into a simple nursery rhyme, soft and low.
Tear-stained cheeks and leaky eyes pointing up at me, the flash of green full of stunned disbelief. She lowers her head again and sniffles, a few more tears dripping down her face.
As time passes, my emotions leak into my song, the simplistic tunes weaving into complex melodies. Her muscles loosen, but she refuses to give me her eyes again. My rhythm almost falters when she sways, and the exhaustion she’s swamped with flows into me from our link.
For a moment, I think she’s lowered her barrier and recognizes me as her lifemate. I accept the flood of disheartened emotions from her, sending comfort and hope through the unsteady connection between us.
When I step forward and try to lift her chin with my finger, still letting my song fill the room, she turns her head to the side and squeezes her eyes closed.
My heart sinks.
I drop my hand and force myself to continue singing, even though her rejection hurts.
She’s shivering, but the room feels warm. Glancing down, I realize I’m still wearing tons of gear. Maybe the room isn’t as warm as I think. I untie the rope from my wrist, and her eyebrows scrunch in confusion.
When I move my feet, her shoulders flinch upwards, but I feign ignorance. She needs a gentle dance, and I’ll give her all the time I can.
We have a time limit, though. If her heat or my rut kicks in, this dance will change tempo, and neither of us will have any say.
I walk to the built-in drawers in the wall across from the sleeping pit and enter the code to unlock the bottom drawer. Sliding it open, my tune changes to a fantastical tale of adventure. The chorus is upbeat and energetic, while the verses hold a forlorn, lonely message. As I strip each piece of gear off, I delve deeper into the song, my back to my Omega.
With most of my weapons locked in the bottom drawer, I unlock the middle and pull it out. One by one, I take off my electronic devices, deactivate them, and set them in their designated spots. Before I shut the drawer, I flip a switch in the left corner, activating a blocking shield, and seal it closed. I enter the code and lock it, my finger lifting as the last note of the chorus gives way to the final verse.
This is the worst tale, and I regret beginning it. Opening the tall built-in wardrobe next to the drawers, I lean against the wall and take off my boots, placing them in the bottom pocket.
My tempo slows, the words chilling and too real. The male character faces a foe too powerful to overcome. His mate cannot free herself, and his death is imminent.
With morose words and a maudlin tune, the end drops into sadness, his adventuring no longer an accomplishment, but a curse.
I cannot keep my sense of defeat out of my movements. Pulling my shirt over my head, I spot the hole my fierce Omega ripped with her teeth.
Unable to rise from the depths of sadness, another song begins. This one tells the story of a mountain, strong and firm, but time and tiny creatures—humans—ravage it. By the time the song is finished, I’ve hung my protective gear, closed the wardrobe, and crossed the room to the food cabinet.
Needing to focus on my actions, I drop the words but keep humming the lilting melody.
I want to wash myself and my Omega, because the stench of our ordeal permeates from our hair and skin, but she looks too lost to handle the stress. The scent of her slick tempts me, but I ignore my hard cock.
Not knowing when she last ate, I pull out the meal with the highest nutritional value. After a moment of introspection, I pull out a second meal. Tearing them open and popping them in the processing unit, I glance over my shoulder.
Her arms are still bound, but she no longer fights the restraints. They hang on relaxed shoulders and guarded green eyes peruse the room. Her gaze lingers on the door's locks, but no amount of studying will help her break out. The top requires a code and a thumb scan to unlock.
The food processing unit chimes, breaking her concentration. She notices me looking at her and scrunches her face in an odd mix of fear, anger and wariness.
A rumble enters my hum, soft and almost unnoticeable. When she doesn’t snarl in response, a part of me relaxes. She may hate what comes next, but I’ll do my best to make it as painless as possible.
Turning, I take out the food, walk back to the wardrobe, and set the trays on the little table jutting out from the bulkhead. I pull the chair out and push the back to the wall. Then I return to the food cabinet, snag three waters, and add them next to the meals.
Needing a moment, I lean my palms on the table and take a deep breath. Changing tunes, I revert to a nursery melody, a song that has soothed me through many trials.
This will be a test of my restraint.
I finish my moment, shoving my doubt away, and stand to my full height. When I turn to face her, she curls her lip but doesn’t snarl. Creases around her eyes indicate how exhausted she is, and worry slides through my thoughts.
I pretend to not notice and study her vibrant green eyes as I use slow, steady steps toward her. When I get in reach, every muscle in her body locks in apprehension. The link thrums in my chest as I get closer.
I push comfort and understanding into it, easing her in whatever way I can. Her left foot moves back half a step, but she’s more wary than angry. I reach forward and let the portion of rope I'd used as a leash slide between my fingers, pinching them together just before the end slips free.
Keeping my eyes locked with hers and my lullaby soothing, I take a little step backward, gathering the rope so there’s less slack.
When the rope pulls tight, her nervous swallow moves the front of her throat. Her eyes flick between my face and the drinks.
I continue walking backwards, leading her to the table, the rope taut between us as she waits until the pull forces her to follow. After reaching the chair, I sit with my back straight and my feet flat on the floor. I reach over and pick up a water, taking a sip and seeing thirst fill her eyes. I tip the lip of the bottle toward her, but she refuses to come closer.
I resume my singing, the quiet purr a little more prominent, and set the water back on the table.
We stare at one another, the rope giving her about two feet between us, as I pick up a piece of food and raise my eyebrow.
The rope gains slack as she tiptoes closer. I gather it as she stops, still very unsure of my motives.
I want her to feed and drink, nothing more right now. Just because my cock strains at my zipper doesn’t mean it rules my actions.
When I pat my knee, her jaw clamps in a mutinous expression. I pop the bite into my mouth and moan through a few notes, enjoying the tart sweetness of the fruit.
Her eyes flare in surprise, while her lips tighten in response to my purr. I don’t want to manipulate her instincts—I want her to learn to trust me.