Feral Omega: A Dark Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance (Ghost Alpha Unit Book 1)

Blood.

So much blood.

Pouring from the fragile creature in my grip.

Her pulse fluttering like a trapped bird.

Trapped bird in my crushing grasp.

From her neck. From her arm.

Not good.

Can’t let her bleed out.

I shift my hold.

Clamp my hand over the wound to staunch the flow.

Squeezing too hard.

She’s struggling, choking.

Wild blue-green eyes lock with mine, wide with terror.

Blue green blue green.

Fear fear fear.

Because of me.

The monster.

Her lids flutter, long lashes sweeping over pale cheeks.

She goes limp.

Fight drains out of her slender form.

Something surges through me.

Panic?

An alien sensation I can’t begin to process.

Drop her. Drop her now.

Monster.

She tumbles into the snow.

Limp.

Chest rising and falling.

Limp… but unconscious.

Not dead.

Need to keep her alive.

Tear off my glove, press fingers to her neck.

Still a pulse, faint but there.

Relief floods me.

Strange lightness in my chest I can’t place.

Not used to caring if prey lives or dies.

Not prey.

Omega.

Mine.

Not safe here.

Too cold.

I hoist her over my shoulder.

Her small body a dead weight against mine.

Weighs nothing.

A starved songbird.

Legs dangling, hair trailing behind us.

Like a banner.

Break into a loping stride.

Tearing through the forest.

Through the thorns.

Through brush.

Too much snow.

Too cold.

Not much time.

Need shelter.

Somewhere safe to hole up.

To tend to her wounds.

A den.

Need a den.

Catch the faint scent of moisture.This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

Damp stone.

Warmth.

Safety.

A cave up ahead.

Ducking low, I follow the scent.

Find the dark hollow in the thorns.

Squeeze inside, ducking, crouching.

Careful not to hit her on the walls.

Not to hit her head on rock.

Lower her onto the dirt floor.

Omega is motionless, eyes closed.

Chest barely rising with each shallow breath.

So pale.

So still.

I lean closer.

The steady rasp of my own breathing is so loud.

The panting of a beast.

Dragon with a treasure to guard.

Demon in hell with a captive angel.

Alive. She’s alive.

Need to see her wounds.

Trembling fingers fumble with the fastenings of her jacket.

Can’t.

Too hard.

Takes too long.

Tear it open.

Eyes travel over her slender form.

Her breasts rising and falling with each breath.

Fresh blood wells from her arm, stains her snow white skin.

Wound much worse than the cut on her neck.

Close to the heart.

Too close.

Can’t stop staring at it, at her.

She is perfect.

I do not deserve to even glance.

Rip a strip of fabric from my sleeve.

Wad it into bandage.

Wrap around arm.

Hands are too big, too clumsy.

Can’t tie the bandage.

Can’t help.

Frustrated snarls build in my chest.

Lean back on my haunches, glaring at my hands.

Big.

Powerful.

Built for violence.

For destruction.

Not for this, not for helping, not for saving.

Try one more time.

Smear more blood.

Make her wince.

Her arm hurts.

Her throat hurts.

She feels pain.

Useless disgusting monster!

MONSTER.

MONSTER.

MONSTER.

Charge out into the fading daylight.

Slam my fists into a tree trunk.

Roaring.

Snarling.

Rending.

Again and again.

Frenzy of splinters and torn back.

Trunk explodes, pine topples.

Useless.

Only good for death.

Can’t protect.

Can’t help.

Can only destroy, rend, tear…

Something stops me.

A sound.

A soft, pained whimper.

Drifts from the mouth of the cave.

Panting, I stumble back toward the cave.

Covered in bark. Sap. Dirt.

The gore of the forest.

Listening.

One thing consumes my every thought.

Omega.

My omega.

My omega who hates me.

My omega who looked at me with horror.

Disgust.

Revulsion.

And she didn’t even see my full face.

Did she?

Panic. I grab at my mask. Check that it’s still there.

I have to get back to her side.

Protect her.

Duck inside the cave, hunching, crouching.

Omega is not moving, only breathing.

My teeth clench.

Can’t let her bleed out.

She deserves to live.

Fought too hard to die here.

Fingers flex, reaching for her arm.

Have to get this right.

Scent of blood floods my nose, floods me.

Hunger ignites.

Fight the urge to lean in closer.

To taste.

No.

Fight back the beast.

She’s not prey.

Not food.

She is mine.

To protect, to cherish.

Not to devour.

Not to drink.

Tear a fresh strip from my sleeve.

Press the fabric to her arm.

Brow furrows in concentration.

Must be so careful.

So precise.

Hands tremble as I knot it.

Just tight enough to keep the blood from flowing freely.

Not tight enough to hurt or harm.

Not perfect.

But she will live.

Gaze drifts from her arm to her chest.

To her pulse fluttering in her blood-stained neck.

To the rise and fall of her breasts.

I lean closer.

Sniff her.

Blood and cake.

Breath stutters through the filters of my mask.

My omega doesn’t move.

At peace despite everything.

The violence.

So much violence.

Jagged cut mars her throat.

Her bare throat.

No longer bleeding, but bare.

Where is the collar?

Wretched metal ring is nowhere to be seen now.

Discarded.

Must have cut it off herself.

Freed herself from the chains we put on her.

Good.

Bigger scar below. On her shoulder.

Old, but so thick.

So many marks. So many scars.

Survived so much.

Fierce wild thing.

Fierce, perfect, wild.

Not a rabbit.

A fox.

Matches her red hair.

I reach out, hand trembling.

Caress her neck, her collarbone, her hair.

Silk between my calloused fingers.

She stirs.

I hold my breath.

I am a monster.

Demon.

Wraith.

She will open those blue-green eyes soon.

She will know what I have dared to do.

I have dared to look.

Even to touch…

But I can’t look away.

Don’t want to look away.

Commit it all to memory before she’s ripped away.

As all things are.

I was wrong.

She cannot be mine.

Blessings are not meant for beasts.