Page 40 of Alpha Hunger

District six is one of the poorest and most populated districts in the San Diego area. Among the run-down homes, stray cats and packs of dogs hide or get out of our way. The third blare of the horn warning people to get off the streets has sounded, so anyone out at this time is hound food. My Horde moves quietly through the neighborhood, some skipping around backyards, some hopping from roof to roof while the hounds sniff for Omega dynamic other than the one riding with us.

Arkin, though in the late second stage of the siege, has found time to question Uncle Randy, who admitted he offered Anna protection in case she was found unregistered. He told her he had great connections and that I would forgive the “small mishap.” Most certainty not. Also, he told his niece that the prince—me!—approves of Betaren and allows Omegas the freedom to suppress their scent, heats, and Serpent knows what else.

Naturally, I am severely offended and pissed someone would trade on my name in such a way. To my Omega, no less. In light of such gossip and before the gossip spreads, I am forced to clarify where I stand on the Omega register. Yet again. So be it. Visiting her district was in order.

Junior hops the fence, landing in the middle of the yard. A cat hisses and hides under the raised steps of a modest single-story human home just as a gray-haired man in a wheelchair, with the same brown eyes as Anna’s and missing one leg, rolls out, shotgun aimed at me. New human toys can’t pierce our armor, but some older models might. I believe this is an older model, as is the man. Her father, I presume.

“Etin Ner, father of Anna.”

“Hi there,” he says, gun still aimed. His hand doesn’t shake, and he doesn’t appear nervous. The human is comfortable with his toy. A tattoo on his forearm tells me he was in the military, Marines, precisely, the human ground unit. It is likely this male did not bend the knee, so he lost the leg. I spared no man who wouldn’t kneel then, and I won’t do it now. Though I can’t ask a man like him to kneel, mainly because it would be difficult. I am not inconsiderate. I am a Regha prince whom human lawmakers have exploited. I must clear my good name.

The man’s gaze moves toward the end of the street. I don’t take my eyes away from the man with the toy, but I know my Omega rides. I hear the hounds surrounding Loyette. If I look away, the man could shoot me. Though I can erect my armor and deflect bullets, I do not. I arrived in peace.

“May I come in?” I ask.

“Hey,” Anna says behind me. “What’s going on?”

“I hate to repeat myself,” I tell the man.

A woman aged approximately sixty steps out. She taps the man on the shoulder, and he passes her the gun, which she holds firmly aimed at me. “Come on in, Hordesman.”

“Hunger,” I tell her, offended she does not recognize me. We wear paint on Earth because humans have said we all look alike to them. It is offensive. I decided white paint would let the humans know which Regha unit they’re dealing with. The Horde uses white. The Collectors use red. I wear annoying armor so humans may identify me. Even when humans offend me, I am polite and do them many favors.No?

I dismount and proceed, snapping my fingers. This is a universal sign for the Omega to come along. When Anna doesn’t join me, I stand by the old man and look at the street. Anna isn’t even paying attention to me. She’s too busy fearing the twenty-seven hounds surrounding Loyette, who growls in annoyance.

Loyette is entering heat, and twenty-some potential mates circling her makes her snappy. By the end of this fine day, Loyette will bite one or ten. It depends. Female Alpha hounds are particularly difficult to breed and can only be mounted by the strongest. Junior is the strongest, and he won’t mount her because they’re blood. There will be hound competition in the coming week. I look forward to seeing which Alpha’s hound comes out on top.

Alpha males are not unlike the hounds. Only the strongest gets to breed Omegas. I will breed mine. As soon as I entice her into heat.

I click my tongue, and Junior joins the males. Since he’s the Alpha hound, the others snarl and move away from Loyette quickly so she can hop the fence and deliver my Omega to the doorstep. Anna dismounts quickly, trips, and I catch her before she falls off the front porch.

She leverages her body against mine before stepping back and arranging her skirt. “Tomorrow, I’m wearing ballerina shoes.”

“I approve of bare feet.”

“What are you doing at my house?”

“Investigating.”

“Hordesmen raid, ask questions later,” her dad says.

I smile. “I have evolved since.” My evolution from primal instincts and Horde purpose is the sole reason I am having to reestablish the rules. We will prosper only if Omegas remain our priority. Why is this hard for human lawmakers and society to understand? It is so very simple.

“Not by much,” comes from the woman, who I presume is Anna’s mother.

“Mom,” Anna says, heat coloring her pretty cheeks. I stroke one with the back of my hand, wishing her heat would spill out of her pussy right now. Soon. I will mount her soon, and when I do, those pretty brown eyes will be closed, the pouty mouth will open and beg me to knot her. This thought cheers me up.

Her dad spins his chair and tries to move the wheels, but they’re caught on something, and the chair doesn’t move. He curses.

“Allow me,” I say. I bend and check out the wheel. Ah, there we are. A piece of black yarn wedged in the wheel’s machinery. I yank it out, then stroke it between my fingertips. Tayseer uses black. Hm. Could be a sign, could be nothing. I stand up to see two pairs of big brown eyes staring at me. I grab the handles and roll the man inside.

Anna closes the door to a modest home. A sitting room with worn brown couches. A dining room with three chairs surrounding a square table in a kitchen with outdated appliances. I scent coffee and jam. Strawberry jam. I enjoy the taste of strawberries, but hate those little seeds when they get stuck between my teeth. Having to floss is a waste of my time, so I seldom eat Earth’s produce with seeds.

I scent the air. The family owns cats and dogs. Inhaling more, I rattle. The humans tense. In the kitchen, the mother crosses herself. Humans do this when calling on their God. “I scent your fear,” I say. “It is unnecessary. Today, I’ve come to tell you your daughter is my Omega and shall be crowned princess of Regha.”

Anna’s father rolls to the table and parks in the empty space, which explains the three chairs. I sit down with him. I cannot scent another Omega in the house. This is not an Omega breeding bloodline. Both parents are Betas.

Anna sits with us, palms out on the table. “You can’t just come in here and say these crazy things.”

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