Page 33 of Feral Omega

The door hisses open and Plague's scent wafts into the room, sterile and sharp, like the chemicals he works with. I don't look up, my gaze still fixed on her sleeping form.

"Thought you were on a mission," Plague mutters, his voice muffled by the mask.

A smirk tugs at my lips. "I was. No survivors. Knocked off early."

Plague moves closer, his steps measured and precise. I can feel his disapproval radiating off him in waves. "Playing with your knife in my clinic? You know better, Valek."

He reaches for the blade, but I'm faster. I pull it out of his grasp, the metal singing as it slices through the air. "Ah ah, Doc. You wanna lose that hand?"

Plague stills, his gold-tinted lenses boring into me. For a moment, we're locked in a silent battle of wills, the tension thick enough to cut with my knife. But eventually, he relents, pulling his hand back with a frustrated sigh.

I sheathe the knife, the click of the blade against the handle echoing in the quiet room. "How much longer is she going to be out?"

Plague cocks his head, studying me. "Why? That desperate for your turn?"

Irritation flares hot in my gut. He thinks I'm just here to claim her, to slake my lust like some rutting animal. But it's more than that. "Wasn't thinking about sex," I grit out, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.

Something in my tone must give him pause, because his posture shifts, the mocking edge fading from his voice. "Good, because I haven't even given her a full exam, but she won't be in any shape for that for a while yet. Her condition is improving," he says, all business now. "Should be able to lift the sedation soon. I'm going to discuss it with Thane when he returns."

Thane. The name sends a surge of something dark and possessive through my veins. He's our leader. But the thought of him near her, touching her... it makes my vision bleed red.

I push the feeling down, lock it away in the recesses of my mind. I can't afford to challenge Thane, not over this. Not yet.

Plague is still watching me, his gaze heavy, assessing. He sees too much, knows too much. Out of all of us, he's the one who comes closest to understanding the twisted workings of my mind. And that makes him dangerous.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Valek," he says softly, a warning and a promise all in one.

I bare my teeth in a grin, sharp and feral. "Danger's what I live for, Doc. You know that."

He shakes his head, a small, humorless laugh escaping him. "One of these days, that hunger of yours is going to get you killed."

"We all have to die sometime," I shrug, my gaze drifting back to her. "At least I'll go out on my own terms."

Plague follows my line of sight, his focus settling on the omega. "You'll go out on mine if you touch her before it's time," he says, his voice turning to stone, dry and brittle. It's the kind of danger I knew he possessed from the moment I laid eyes on him. The kind of demonic darkness one only recognizes when there's a demon lurking inside him, too.

"That what you think of me?" I challenge. "That I'm a rapist?"

"You're a killer," he says flatly. "It's not that much of a leap."

"We're all killers," I remind him, standing until we're toe to toe. We've been on the same team for years, but I've probably exchanged more words with him over the last five minutes than I have in all that time.

"You're different," he says in a matter of fact tone.

"Oh, yeah?" I sneer behind the hood, staking a step closer. He stays where he is, meeting the challenge head on. Not escalating, not backing down. Like he thinks he's better.

He always thinks he's better than the rest of us. It's the kind of thing that makes me wanna put a blade through his frontal lobe. Good old fashioned lobotomy. Bet he'd like that. Maybe he wouldn't be so smug then.

"You get off on it," Plague says, his voice low and even, almost clinical in its detachment. "The killing. The blood. It's like a drug to you."

I tilt my head, considering his words. He's not wrong. The rush of adrenaline, the power, the control... it's intoxicating. But it's not the whole truth. "And what about you, Doc?" I ask, my voice a mocking purr. "You get off on playing god? On holding life and death in your hands?"

A growl escapes him, faint and muffled almost immediately, but it's a tell that I've gotten under his skin. "I save lives," he grits out, each word precise and measured. "You take them."

"Tomato, to-mah-to," I shrug, a smirk playing at my lips. "We all have our vices."

Plague's focus flicks back to the omega, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head. He's trying to figure me out, trying to understand why she's gotten under my skin. But how can I explain it to him when I don't even understand it myself?

"Get out," he finally says, backing up a step.

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