Page 77 of Feral Omega

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.

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