Page 25 of Feral Alphas

Chapter ten

Rose

The alphas seem more worked up than usual as we step into the tiny holding room rented for the match. Their temporary cages are barely big enough to pace in, the width of a doorway and maybe nine foot long with a narrow bed, urinal, and the sealed door at the far end.

“You’ll have to wait here,” Groman says, opening one empty cage in the middle of the row.

This close I’m going to feel the fighters breathing around me. Setting my jaw, I march into the cell and throw his jacket onto the concrete floor. The door clangs shut behind me and Petrov locks it, grinning like he’s already won this horrid fighting match.

I’d like to see him thrown in the ring with Scar and find out if he still thinks it’s a game.

Warmth flushes through my veins with the first warning of my triggered heat but I clamp my teeth against the whimpers that want to break loose. After all these years, it takes a pair of pills and three hours of waiting for my birthright to appear, and that pisses me off more than I can say.

I was never broken, I was just duped. All the medical care because I was different was just a ruse to turn me into a human oil burner who fuels their sick killing game.

Sweat crawls down my collarbone and slides between my exposed breasts. I let my head tilt back, panting through the waves closing in around me. All thoughts of escape vanish as my existence grows heavier. My skin traps too tight around my flesh and my pussy burns like a volcano’s trying to break loose inside.

“Don’t fight it, darling,” Petrov calls, and I hear the crackle of his radio, which probably means the event’s about to start.

As if I could fight it anyway. After being kept at bay for years, nature’s intention for me crashes in with frightening clarity. Weeks ago, I wondered if a heat could possibly kill an omega. This time, I’m sure the answer is yes.

The whines slide through my throat without end and the feral alphas respond with a vengeance. The roars and growls rebound in the small space, doubling the ferocious noise. Although the sound is intimidating, it’s partly comforting after a night spent in a strange place. I’ve grown used to their rumbles. I feel more of a kindred spirit with these twelve ruined men than any civilized person I’ve ever met. At least the noises they make are honest.

A painful cramp hits my stomach making me squeal, and I writhe against the bedding, desperate for friction between my legs to ease the exploding sensations.

Movement catches my eye and I watch as fingers hook around the edge of the dividing wall, one of the alphas doing acrobatics to get his arm into my cell. Tears warp my vision as I drag myself to the bars and grip those divine instruments. I dig my nose into his palm and breathe deeply, calm washing over me. I’m not alone.

Don’t ask me how I know, but it’s Scar, the silent alpha who only once looked my way. I lick his fingers and he strokes my tongue like he’s not a monster who’d kill me with his bare hands.

The crackle of Petrov’s radio warns me of his return, and I let go, tapping Scar’s hand in an order to withdraw that I pray he’ll understand. “Stay alive,” I beg as his fingers vanish through the cell bars. In only three short weeks, their fates have become entwined with mine.

Groman strides in with his kennel manager and grins when he sees me heaving against the bars. “Having trouble there, darling?”

I want to cuss and spit at him, but truthfully I’m almost ready to throw myself at him in desperation. Anything to rid myself of this burning sensation of my body trying to turn itself inside out.

An alpha is the only thing that makes sense right now, but please, please don’t let it be him!

He passes me a small bottle of blue liquid with a smirk. “This will take the edge off, I promise.”

I gulp it down without a second thought, desperate for any kind of relief, and then rest my head against the cold metal bars. A few minutes pass, and then the raging summer heat inside subsides. I breathe easier.

“What is it?”

“Emergency heat delay. Usually gives an omega an hour. Shall we go enjoy your handiwork?” Groman asks as Petrov unlocks my cell. The kennel boss hands me a tiny bit of plastic shaped like the number eight and taps his nose where I see the same device sitting like a filter in his nostrils. “Put this in and it will tamp down some of the scents. It’s wild out there and you’re extra sensitive at the moment.”

That’s putting it mildly. I can pick out the individual scents of every alpha in the room right now, not to mention hearing every growl and scrape like it’s inside my head.

Groman claps a chunky bracelet around my wrist which shoots a cool mist up my arm periodically and I quiver at the cool touch of moisture.

“Scent dampener,” he says. “Usually no one would take an omega in heat into a crowd, but there’s enough haze going around out there that no one will identify you. Plus, the liquid I gave you should give us enough time to enjoy the show before you turn feral.”

Before I become like the alphas.

He smirks. “And I think the risk is worth the reward.”

I stumble after him, not sure what he means. The air’s so thick in here with my floral scent and their mix of wild alpha musk that it feels like I could grasp clumps of it in my hand.

But that gives me some time to escape.

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