Marked Omega (Quarantine Omega Book 1)

by Lizzy Bequin

  Another deep howl breaks the silence, closer than before.

  CHAPTER 4: ADDOM

  The scent is intense and impossible to ignore. My body responds immediately. My heart rate rises, my muscles tense up, and my cock swells with anticipation beneath my fur loincloth.

  It’s an omega. And she’s in heat.

  I rush toward the scent, weaving in and out of the dark, moss-covered tree trunks. The dappled sunlight filtering through the forest canopy strobes across my eyes.

  My body is barely in control as my muscles strain to run at a full sprint, charging ahead until I find the female and mate her. My mind, however, recognizes the danger. I keep my stealthy hunting form, moving on the balls of my feet, my bare soles almost silent on the carpet of leaves and pine needles and soft moss.

  But as I draw closer, the scent becomes stronger. And as the scent grows stronger, it becomes a struggle to keep myself from descending into a delirium of lust.

  Without even meaning to, a deep, low howl erupts from my throat, echoing through the trees. It is pure instinct, an ungovernable reflex.

  The purpose of the primal call is to signal to my pack brothers that I have found a female in heat. My call will draw the other males in so that we can all claim her cunt.

  I remind myself that I must contain my urge to howl. This place is beyond the boundary of my people’s territory. These are the far lands. My people rarely venture out here. A few of the old-timers brag about going so far that they could see the great wall, but sometimes I think they are just repeating stories they heard when they were young.

  In fact, the only reason I’m here is because the tribal council sent my pack to scout the territory. We have started doing so ever since we started finding those other females mysteriously chained to trees in the area.

  Except for one of them, the women were all betas. They were all dead by the time we found them, shot through the chest by a gun—an outsider weapon.

  But this female that I smell now is definitely an omega. And she is very much alive.

  Now the scent is overwhelming. I can no longer control my urges. I charge ahead through the underbrush not caring if I make any sound. My cock aches beneath my fur loincloth.

  Still, in the back of my mind, I am aware that something is wrong. What is an omega doing out here, so far from the others? And why is her scent so intense? It’s like when the young females reach their very first estrus.

  I should be cautious, but my body won’t let me.

  Charging ahead, I burst from the forest into a wide rolling meadow. The land dips into a shallow bowl, and at its lowest point there stands a gnarled tree.

  Beneath the shade of its spreading limbs I see them.

  One of the women is a beta, hanging mindless in her chains. At first I think she is dead until she lolls her head to look at me blankly. Poor creature. I should put her out of her misery.

  But my attention is immediately focused on the other female.

  She is the most beautiful omega I have ever seen.

  She is fair-skinned, with lustrous auburn hair and a body that is impossibly curvy, even for an omega. Her round breasts swell and heave with her rapid breathing. Her torso tapers to a narrow waist, but flairs again at her wide hips which lead to thick meaty thighs.

  I want to feast on her. I want to taste every inch of her hot skin.

  But first I need to make her safe. Why is she chained like this? And why is she dressed in that strange garb of thin fabric covering her breasts and sex? The pristine whiteness of her clothing makes it clear that this woman is an outsider, from beyond the great wall.

  This is a trap.

  But my cock doesn’t care. My need for her is too great. I need to rend her delicate clothing and claim her breasts with my mouth. I need to bury my face between those luscious thighs and lap the hot slick oozing from her hole.

  And most of all I need to plunge my hard cock inside her wet depths and fill her womb with my seed.

  Another howl bursts from my throat, and I beat my fists against my chest. I rush toward her.

  The omega screams, struggling against the chains that bind her. I’ll need to free her eventually so I can take her back to my dwelling. But for now my hard cock and aching balls demand that I fuck her here and now, chained to this tree like an animal.

  I must sate my need.

  My hand clamps over her mouth, muffling her screams. I press my body tightly against hers, pinning her in place to keep her from struggling and squirming. My snout dips to her neck, and I inhale her aroma.

  Beneath the fur of my loincloth, my cock throbs and pulses against her lower belly. She obviously feels it by the way she squeals into my palm.

  Keeping her pinned in place, I snuffle down her neck, along her shoulder, down her chest. Her breasts are heaving. Her heart is hammering so hard against her rib cage that I can hear it.

  With a snarl, I tear the cloth that is hiding her chest from me. Her plump mounds jiggle free, their pink peaks taut with arousal. Her mouth may be screaming in terror, but her body is begging to be claimed.

  She squeals again as I plant my lips on one of her breasts, sucking the nipple into my mouth, biting it and flicking it with my tongue.

  I want to taste these breasts when they are flowing with milk. I must breed her and make her ripe with my child.

  As I crouch lower, I am forced to remove my hand from her mouth, and a stream of panicked words come tumbling out from between her lips. Her speech is strange, similar to my own, but highly accented.

  The only word I can understand is “please.”

  Whether she is begging me to stop or to continue, it matters not. My inflamed balls are in control now. I’m going to ravage her hot little cunt whether she likes it or not.

  I press my face against her center and inhale her raw scent straight from the source. The smell of her heat sends an intense pulse of violent lust coursing through my veins. My skin prickles. My hard cock drools precum beneath my furs.

  The only thing separating me from her needy hole is this thin white cloth that is sopping with her slick.

  I reach to tear it away.

  Before I can manage to do so, there is a sharp whistling sound almost like an arrow. Something stings my shoulder.

  My first thought is that it is an ambush by the far-lander Alphas. Those wretched corruptions are primitive, typically fighting with sticks and stones. But they have been known to use crude arrows from time to time.

  However, as I twist to look, I see that it is a dart that has struck me. It is totally unlike the ones that are sometimes used to hunt small game with blowguns. This dart is made of shiny metal, like the artifacts left behind by the ancestors. Where its tip penetrates my flesh, I feel a searing pain. Then numbness.

  My arm falls limp. My muscles grow weak and loose. I slump to the ground with a grunt. The beta lets out a demented laugh.

  The last thing I see, before darkness enfolds me is the beautiful auburn-haired omega staring down at me in silent fear.

  CHAPTER 5: LILY

  My mind is reeling as I try to process everything that just happened.

  It’s an Alpha. A real Alpha.

  I knew that we might encounter one on this expedition. But I certainly didn’t expect it would be like this.

  Now, actually seeing one face to face, it’s almost surreal. Then again, when you are stripped to your underwear and chained to a fucking tree, most things seem a bit surreal.

  And describing that encounter as face to face is a bit of an understatement. Just a moment ago, his bulky, hyper-masculine body was pressed so tightly against mine that I felt like he would crush me against this tree. My back sings with pain from the way the rough bark scraped me.

  What’s even weirder is the way my body responded to him, crying out for his aggressive touch. A cool breeze ghosts over my chest where he tore my bra open, and I realize that my nipples are almost painfully stiff with arousal. Beneath my panties, the bud of my clitoris is equally erect.<
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  I’ve never had that kind of direct contact with another living being before. His musky scent surrounded me. I could feel every bulge and ripple of his muscles, so hard they felt like there were carved from granite.

  And his muscles weren’t the only thing that was hard. His erection was pressing against me through his primitive clothing. I could feel the heat emanating off of it. All I can say is that it’s a good thing Deakon fired that tranq dart when he did. If the beastly Alpha had tried to put that big thing inside me, it would have surely split me in two.

  Speaking of troopers, they have come out of their hiding spots now. They are both striding down the grassy hillside, approaching from opposite directions, rifles on shoulders.

  “Good shot, Deak,” Chappel shouts.

  They may have saved my life, but I’m not at all grateful. After all, they’re the ones who put me into this situation. And as frightening as he is, I know that the Alpha couldn’t help himself. He may look like a human, but I know from my studies that he is just a wild animal, driven by primal urges.

  But as I gaze down at his unconscious body, I can’t help noticing that he doesn’t fit the descriptions I’ve read in my text books.

  Sure, he is bulky, his body covered in thick, powerful muscles. And yes, he is savage in appearance, his hair longish and wild like a mane. However, all of the sources I have read describe the Alphas as hideous. Terrifying mutants with twisted features.

  The man lying on the ground before me certainly doesn’t fit that description. His face is hyper-masculine, with a heavy bone structure, stern brow, and strong, angular jaw. He has numerous piercings—several through the lobes and cartilage of his ears and one large steel ring through his septum. These heighten his look of primitive ferocity.

  But his features are handsome. Beautiful even. There is a faint animalism to his broad nose and his lips pressed forward by his overdeveloped canines. However, his face also bears an aesthetic symmetry, like a masterpiece of sculpture, and his bronze skin has a healthy glow that I’ve never seen on a hive dweller.

  And then there’s the way those intelligent, speckled gray eyes stared at me hungrily.

  He is primal, feral. But he is also beautiful, the way a wild tiger must be beautiful.

  And my captors want to put him in a cage.

  “Hurry up, Chappel,” Deakon shouts to his fellow trooper. “We need to get this fucker restrained before he wakes up.”

  The two soldiers approach from either side. They don’t pay me and Sara any more mind than they would a couple of pieces of meat hanging from hooks.

  I’m just bait. They’re only interested in what they’ve caught.

  Both men crouch, and with a grunt they roll the Alpha onto his stomach.

  “Leave him alone!” I shout, uncertain of what caused that sudden outburst.

  As Chappel sets to work restraining the unconscious Alpha’s hands behind his back, Deakon turns and laughs at me.

  “Don’t tell me you’re already in love with this monster,” he says nastily.

  I hate him for the way he’s mocking me, but there’s a part of me that agrees with him. Why should I care what happens to this Alpha? The creature certainly wouldn’t have shown me any mercy if Deakon had not tranquilized him.

  Still, I can’t deny that I feel some strange, primal bond.

  That Alpha may not be human, but neither am I. I’m an omega now. An animal.

  “What are we going to do with them?” Chappel nods toward me and Sara as he struggles to fit a heavy shackle around one of the Alpha’s wrists. “We can’t take them back with us. That one’s braindead, and the omega knows too much.”

  I scream as the sudden bark of a pistol startles me. The sound echoes around the little valley and the surrounding woods.

  “That takes care of the beta,” Deakon chuckles cruelly.

  Blue smoke curls from the muzzle of the pistol in Deakon’s hand. Dark blood runs down Sara’s body from the wound in her chest where he shot her. Her weight hangs limp in her chains.

  She’s dead.

  I start to cry. Tears roll down my cheeks. Even though I didn’t know Sara too well, I feel heartbroken for the awful way her life has ended.

  And I don’t expect my ending to be much better.

  “Deakon. Chappel. Come in,” Bishop’s voice growls over the comm unit. “We heard a gunshot.”

  Deakon presses the comm button on the side of his helmet.

  “Yeah, boss, we’re all good here. The Alpha is tranquilized. We’re just bundling him up now. The shot you heard was the beta.”

  “Good. You know what to do with the omega.”

  Deakon approaches me. His breath is heavy and ragged through the air filter on his mask. Though they are hidden by his tinted visor, I can feel his eyes wandering over my body, lingering on my bared breasts where the beast tore my bra open. His breath hitches as he sees my swollen, erect nipples.

  The trooper licks his lips, the disgusting sound amplified by his voice unit.

  “Such a shame to let a piece of meat like this go to waste,” he rasps. “If we had a little more time, I’d love to play with her.”

  “Yeah, well we don’t have time,” Chappel mutters as he continues struggling with the Alpha’s restraints. “We’ll have to leave her. Now quit fucking around and help me with this.”

  Deakon grunts.

  “Leave her?” He raises his pistol and points the still smoking muzzle right at my face. “Fine. But I’m the jealous type. I’m not gonna leave this sweet little thing for some other Alpha to ravage. I’m gonna put her out of her misery.”

  Deakon’s finger slowly squeezes the trigger. I cringe and press my eyes shut in fear.

  “Well if you’re gonna do it, hurry up and do it,” Chappel’s voice calls. “Kill the bitch and—“

  What happens next is almost too fast to process.

  There is a snarl and a sharp crack like splintering wood followed by the most blood-curdling cry of agony that I’ve ever heard. But those shrieks are cut short by a sickening crunch.

  I snap my eyes open, and I instantly regret doing so. Chappel’s mangled body lies on the ground. The air is thick with the metallic scent of the blood oozing from the horrific compound fracture to his upper arm. His helmet is dented in, and more blood is dripping from his cracked visor like thick wine.

  My first thought is that the tranquilized beast has woken up prematurely. But the Alpha standing over Chappel’s mangled, bleeding corpse is different. He is dressed in a similar, primitive loincloth, but his is made of gray wolf fur. His body is broader and stockier, his scalp is shorn bald, and his jaw is grizzled with a gray-streaked beard.

  This Alpha is pierced too, in his ears and most prominently through his left eyebrow.

  His muscles are so tense and straining beneath his tight skin that I can see every striation, every popped vein.

  “Kill!” the bearded Alpha roars.

  Amazing. He can speak. His guttural voice is heavily accented, but I can still understand him.

  Deakon wheels around, swinging his heavy pistol from me to the second Alpha. The pistol barks once, twice, three times, but the shots miss their mark as the Alpha deftly rolls out of the way, and Deakon is tackled hard from the side by a shadowy blur.

  “Deakon! Chappel!” a voice breaks over the comm unit lying on the ground by Chappel. “What the fuck is going on out there?”

  But Deakon cannot answer. He is pinned beneath a third alpha with smooth, dark skin, long, raven black hair, and a loincloth of sable fur. The trooper howls in pain as the feral beast claws at his body and slams him against the ground.

  There is a nauseating pop as his spine breaks and his cries are silenced. The Alpha tosses the dead soldier’s body aside in disgust and rises to his feet.

  “Kill,” the third Alpha mutters.

  Although he is enormous compared to an ordinary man, his stature is smaller than the other two Alphas. His skin is smoother, less marked by scars of teeth and claw
s. His features, while hard and masculine, have a kind of elegant beauty. His eyes are midnight blue.

  This younger Alpha has fewer piercings than his companions, but the one that catches my eye is a steel ring that curves around the middle of his sensuous lower lip. When I glance lower at his muscled chest, I notice that one of his nipples is pierced as well.

  These Alphas may be primitive, but they are hardly the inhuman beasts I expected.

  “Oh my God,” I gasp as I look around at the carnage.

  These Alphas’ appearances may not fit the descriptions I’ve read, but the brutal way they just killed those men sure does. Even more incredible is the speed with which they dispatched them.

  The two standing Alphas flick their eyes toward Sara’s lifeless body. Then they turn toward me, and I shiver. Am I next?

  “Omega,” the young one growls, a faint smile curling at his pierced lips.

  They really can speak, although their linguistic skills are apparently primitive. It seems they are only capable of single-word utterances.

  The rough looking one with the bald head cocks his pierced eyebrow and says something incomprehensible in a gravelly voice. He gestures to his fallen comrade on the ground. The younger one stoops and drags the tranquilized Alpha onto his shoulders, carrying him like a fireman. He must be incredibly strong, considering that his unconscious companion is bigger than him.

  He nods toward me.

  “Omega…”

  The burly, bald Alpha stalks toward me and clutches me with his huge, calloused hands. The same hands that just savagely killed Chappel. He tugs at me, trying to carry me away, but my chains instantly pull taut. The edges of my shackles bite into my tender wrists. I’m afraid he might just rip my arms out of their sockets.

  “Stop!” I scream. “Stop it! You’re hurting me!”

  To my surprise, the Alpha does stop. He turns and looks at me. His dark eyes move to the shackles and the taut chains binding me to the tree. The young one gestures to the iron spike holding the chain in place and grunts a few syllables in his crude dialect.

  The bald one huffs and snorts like an angry grizzly bear, but he sets me down, his eyes blazing with fury as he looks at the metal spike holding the chain in place.