Page 17 of Terror

“You can’t afford to get attached.”

“Drop it,” I bark.

The Omega stirs and turns to her back, swiping the sheets away from her, leaving her little body exposed. My dick jumps, pheromones pour out of my skin, and my scent fills the room. It smells like pussy and seed in here, and she’s little, feisty, and perfect. “I’m not gonna get attached,” I say.

Tabby slides a hand between her legs and strokes herself. I purr like a big cat getting his balls licked.

“Arkin,” Dreikx says. “Now you listen to me, boy. The tech has been on for over eight hours. I won’t lose my head because of your sexcapades. I’m shutting it off.” He severs the com line. Good riddance.

I crawl into bed with the Omega and pull her against my body, wedging a leg between her soft thighs. She’s soft everywhere, and mushy, and I just want to squeeze her.

Blinking her eyes open, she gazes up at me. “What time is it?”

“Around midnight.”

“Ugh.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Strange.”

“How so?” I move stray hairs away from her face and kiss her nose. Because I understand the only defense against an Omega is never to touch one, I haven’t allowed myself the freedom of pressing skin to skin with one before. Earlier this evening, I left my shirt, pants, gloves, and my mind out in her garden. If I am being honest, Dreikx has a point.

However, the scent of Omega pussy blossoms in the bedroom, and all I want to do is slip my dick inside her. I restrain myself from doing just that and stroke her ass cheek, gently brushing against her slit to find it wet but not dripping. I think the abrupt heat I’ve sent her into is coming down.

Tabby pushes my chest, and I give her space. She gets up on her elbow and narrows her eyes. “You asshole.”

“Hm?”

She leaps from the bed and opens the bedroom door. “You used me. In the shower, you used me.”

I get up and exit the bedroom, take the stairs down, where I throw on a new shirt and sweatpants, zip up my sack, which humans call a duffel bag.

Dressed in a robe that barely covers her thighs, Tabby rushes down the steps and marches across the foyer. I race her to the front door, open it, and step outside, then turn to bid her farewell. She slams the door in my face, nearly injuring my nose. Clenching my fists, I spin around and sit on the front step. Face in my hands, I wonder what to do.

Dreikx operates with logic, leaving his emotions behind. His advice to use the Omega as bait for the dealers so we can follow them is sane. It is the only lead we’ve had in months, ever since Anna’s aunt provided the names of all her husband’s friends and acquaintances. We interrogated them but came away with nothing of importance, meaning we haven’t found the mastermind or the manufacturing facility, or…well, anything to prevent Betaren from hitting the streets.

Recently, Raven neutralized the imposter who believed the Regha throne could be acquired by killing our crown princess, Anna, stealing the gate, and overthrowing our prince. This is not the Regha way. A male-to-male challenge for the right to the crown is the Regha way.

But before the imposter’s death, we found out that powerful humans supported the male, and all of them are still alive. Not to mention, the male amassed a unit of ten thousand males who hid in San Diego’s sewers. Ten thousand does not an army make. There are more, and a Regha male commands them.

Reports of sightings of Regha-like males, each with a star tattoo around one eye, have come too. I’ve sent units to kill them. I’ve spared as many males as possible while maintaining the siege over the city. But if those abominations are grown in labs for however many years the imposter has spent on earth, then thatisthe making of an army. Based on the former mayor’s involvement with the project and the male, we presume his human supporters support the Betaren project. The best course of action is to find the source of Betaren and squash the rebellion from there.

I’m the Alpha Collector, and my priority is protecting the Omega population, who are the victims.

Growling, I get up and stand back at the door. “Omega,” I shout.

No answer.

“Omega, open up.”

“Go away.”

“Don’t make me break down the door.”

It swings open, and the Omega stands there with a thick stick used to hit balls in a human sport they call baseball. “I’d call the police to get you off my property, but you’ll just kill them, so what do you want?”

“If you promise me you will not ingest those damn pills, I will allow you the space for your birthday party.”

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