Page 51 of Alpha Hunger

“You are notgoodfor breeding. You’rethe bestfor breeding, the one-in-a-million Omega immune to Sewa male venom.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I complimented you.”

“Well done. Good work. Those are all compliments to my skills, my brains. Saying my womb is best for breeding doesn’t flatter me.”

“It should.”

It’s like talking to a wall! I fist my hands and fume, pretty sure I could spit fire out of my mouth. “What’s wrong with the tech?”

“The deal I made with your leaders was simple. All Omegas must register. This is so that I know which house to protect and serve, and not because I discriminate or aim to mate every Omega I see.” He pats the seven-foot thing under the cloth. “Before the register, I labeled their homes. I will now start labeling again. I do this so when I raid, Omegas aren’t harmed!”

Okay so he’s upset. The rumble from his chest gets the hairs on my neck to stand.

He turns up his nose. “I smell your fear.”

“Does it get you excited?” I bite out.

“Sometimes.”

Butterflies dance in my belly and my pussy contracts, leaking liquid.

He smirks. “You?”

I shake my head because, fuck, he smells me. “What happened to the tech?”

“It is gone.”

“Gone?”

“Mm-hm.” Raven approaches. He circles me, dragging a claw over my hip, belly, lower back. Goose bumps rise over my skin. The prince stops behind me, body pressed against mine so I feel the vibration of his purr. My folds wet some more, nipples perking at the same time as lights flare in the distance.

“What’s that?” I point, pretending like he doesn’t affect me.

“That is fire, Omega.”

“Fire?”

Raven walks to my desk and grabs the thick rope I never noticed. From the ceiling, it hung obscurely in the corner. He yanks, and the windows snap open and unfurl like curtains, presenting a view of the Pacific. A soft spring breeze brushes my body. The lack of noise terrifies me. A sense of foreboding settles over my soul because I’ve never seen San Diego under clear blue skies. It’s a busy city, traffic above and on the ground.

Now, silence blankets it. Clear skies stretch all the way to the Pacific, not a single skycar to be seen. No birds. I walk closer to the edge. Then step back. Regha Alphas in kilts fill the courtyard, the paths, the benches, the roofs of lower buildings. Hounds circle, restless, snarling beasts, their hackles raised, lips peeled back from their teeth.

I spin around. “What is going on?”

“Where there is one unregistered Omega, there are more. It seems to me your mayor has been going behind my back and not disclosing the real reason they have agreed to the register. It seems to me she has broken the treaty I agreed upon. My father warned me against allowing humans access to the register, but I didn’t listen. I told him I am not a ruthless bastard and I trust, after years of war, that humans will understand the Omegas belong to me.” He thumps his chest.

Raven takes my hand, pulls me closer to the edge. “The mayor removed your uncle from the pole, and they are hiding somewhere in the city.”

“What will you do?”

Raven walks away, and I turn to see him yank the white cloth from the big thing he dragged out of the closet. It is a chair. A massive red chair with a green serpent rising from the back of it, mouth open, fangs dripping venom on the chair’s armrests.

“Is this a throne?” I ask.

“It is your throne.”

Oh no. Nope.

---