Page 26 of Feral Omega

"Hey freak, whatcha doing?"

Whiskey. His voice grates like rusted metal on bone.

Ignore him, keep pacing.

One-two-three-four, spin on my heel.

One-two-three-four.

Omega's aroma grows stronger near the door. Sweet and tangy.

Vanilla.

Honeysuckle.

Things I've never smelled before, but recognize.

Makes my head spin.

"You're not thinking of going in there, are you?"

Whiskey steps in my path.

Big mistake.

"The little omega is off limits," he says. "Boss's orders."

Curl what's left of my upper lip.

Baring metal fangs he can't see behind my gas mask.

No words.

A rumbling growl from deep in my ruined throat.

"Fucking psycho."

He backs up, hands raised.

Smart boy.

"Don't know why Thane keeps you around. You're a rabid dog that needs to be put down," he says.

Mockingly.

With fear.

Slam my fist into the concrete wall, leaving a crater. Chunks of cement crumble to the floor.

Whiskey flinches.

Stare him down, breathing hard through my mask.

Whiskey turns, shaking his head. "Whatever man, it's your funeral. Fucking freak.”

He disappears around the corner.

Freak.

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