Page 46 of Feral Omega

I allow a small chuckle to escape, the sound distorted by the filters of my mask. "Let's just say I don't delude myself into thinking she trusts any of us. To her, we're all equally monstrous."

As if on cue, a deafening crash echoes down the hallway, followed by Wraith's guttural roar and Whiskey's panicked yelling. Thane's head whips around, his body tensing as a snarl twists his lips.

Always ready to put out everyone else's fires.

Perhaps his codename should have been Fireman. Then again, he's hardly the master of deescalation he believes he is. Little does he know, the only reason the rest of us follow his "orders" is because dealing with a caveman pitching a tantrum isn't high on any of our priority lists.

Certainly not mine.

Wraith and Thane may not be brothers in blood, but they're certainly brothers when it comes to explosive behavior. Only Thane is the equivalent of fireworks while Wraith is a ticking time bomb packed with shrapnel.

"Sounds like I'd better take care of that before my brother decides to turn Whiskey inside out," he mutters, already moving toward the door.

I nod, waving him off with a casual flick of my wrist. "By all means. Let me know how the... omega whispering goes once you've sorted out that little situation."

Thane shoots me a dark look, but there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he turns and strides out of the infirmary, his boots thumping against the concrete floor.

The silence that descends in his wake is heavy. My gaze drifts to the door that leads to Ivy's room in the infirmary, her scent still lingering in the air—honeysuckle and vanilla that sets my pulse racing despite my best efforts to remain detached.

There's a wildness to her, an untamed spirit that calls to the darkest corners of my soul. A part of me longs to break her, to bend that fiery will until she submits to me utterly and completely. To claim her as my own, to possess every inch of her mind, body, and soul.

But I know better than to give in to such base impulses.

An omega like Ivy requires a defter touch, a more subtle approach. Brute force will only breed more resistance, more defiance. No, to tame this particular creature, I must exercise patience and cunning. Two qualities I have in spades.

Chapter

Twenty

IVY

The scent of antiseptic and sterile linen wraps around me like a shroud. My bare feet make no sound on the cold tile as I pad across the floor of the infirmary, casting a wary glance at the closed door leading to the main clinic area. Plague's domain.

Echoes of shouting drift in from the hallway, Whiskey's raucous voice clashing with the deep, guttural snarls of Wraith. A shudder works its way down my spine at the primal fury in those bestial sounds. I don't know what set off the argument this time, but part of me doesn't want to find out.

Better to stay out of the fray.

Safer.

I sink onto the narrow cot in the corner, the thin mattress dipping beneath my weight. My world is infinitely more comfortable and predictable now, but the days still bleed into each other with little to mark their passing. With the exception of the damn IVs Plague is always threatening me with if I don't eat.

Better than what would happen at the Center, though.

So I've been eating here and there, just to keep them satisfied. And because I'm pretty sure I'm going to run out of places to poke.

Another crash echoes from the hallway, followed by a torrent of curses. My shoulders tense instinctively, every muscle coiled and ready to fight or flee. But the sounds fade as quickly as they came, swallowed up by the thick concrete walls.

Slowly, gradually, I force myself to relax. To let out the breath I've been holding in a shuddering exhale. It's just another day in the life of the Ghosts, it seems. Chaos reigning, tempers flaring hot as the fires of hell itself.

I curl my bare feet beneath me, wrapping my arms around my knees as I gaze at the door. What fresh torment awaits me on the other side, I wonder? What new indignities will they subject me to in the name of "taming" their feral little pet?

Not that it matters. I've survived worse than this. Endured nightmares that would shatter weaker souls.

The echo of approaching footsteps snaps me from my reverie, my head whipping toward the door as the scent of smoke and pine fills my nostrils. Thane. I tense instinctively, steeling myself for whatever he's about to subject me to.

But when the door swings open, he seems... different. Calmer, somehow. The usual hard lines of his face are softened, his dark eyes holding none of their customary intensity. He looks almost relaxed as he steps into the room, his gaze finding me immediately.

"Ivy." My name rolls off his tongue, rough and smoky. A shiver works its way down my spine despite my best efforts.

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