Page 12 of Generation Omega: Claimed

This destiny I was enamored with for so long is cruelty made spirit and then flesh. We’re here, but when we touch, we’re still only echoes of what we were before we accepted death for the omegaverse’s greater good. My former confidence shatters me, like knives of glass right through my soul. The haunting refrain in my head won’t stop…the past is dead.

We’re gone and buried in the time when only one continent existed, a lush growing place that was more garden than fields, more blooming than even the most verdant land now.

That I taste the fragrance of yesterday on my lips that feasted on the omega is only more jarring, because the past is gone. I am gone. But I’m not… I’m in this cage, more prisoner than Mackenzie, the kind and generous man who so gracefully yielded his body and life to serve a fate he doesn’t even understand.

The chorus continues… I’m not meant to be alive. Not meant to be in this place.

I see it in the alphas around me. The beta who loves the woman. The savage alpha with the faltering heart, who adores the beta and denies his compulsion toward the omega. The first alpha whose teeth pierced the willing woman’s flesh, bonding them forever. Even the scrubby malcontent and the abrasive, entitled fool. They all belong here, as does honorable Mackenzie. They are all of this time and place. Only I am out of place here.

You are necessary.

The legacy that’s been my companion through all these many lifetimes delivers its message, but it’s not troubled. I’m trapped here. There’s nowhere else for me to go. Only one thing can free me, and I’m already imagining all the ways to set that inevitability in motion.

I could goad her just right. I could harm the beta. I could treat her like nothing but the omega womb that must be filled to create the future we need. I could do it. I could make it happen.

The moment I think it, the omega—myomega, now trapped in the woman—feels my inclination to abandon this farce, but her reaction is distracted. The first alpha steps forward to force her submission before claiming her. This dance is required. He wooed the woman; now he must dominate her omega. But, feeling the precariousness of my fate, she flees her first alpha, scrambling into my arms, her fear of losing me again overwhelming us both. She remembers me. She remembers us.

Any other first alpha would tear her away from me for such disobedience, but he senses something that forces him to watch, leaving it to me to be the alpha she needs. This complication… it’s not that I didn’t consider it in my many years of imagining finally reaching this moment, but the real-life danger of confused leadership accosts me, along with the guidance.

You must reject her. She needs a solid bond with her first alpha—he is her most vital foundation in this life.

The sick part is that the legacy knows exactly what it’s asking and asks anyway. At first, I can’t do it, and our collective future hangs in the balance. But then I’m moving, and I would swear it’s Mackenzie’s decency in me that gives me the strength to do what must be done. I set her on the mattress and do what I never did in life—I turn my back on her and bite down on my tongue to taste the blood that flows, the reminder of the blood rites that sealed us to each other.

With this blood, I vow to serve the legacy, even if it destroys my soul. But when it’s time, I will give her no choice but to vanquish me from this never-ending nightmare. Any chance of ever living my dreams died the moment I touched her and knew the truth—the woman I loved with a passion that endured throughout the millennia is gone forever, though her omega remains trapped in the body of the just-revealed heir. The irony is poison. We’ll only ever connect as the feral, basest versions of ourselves, never the man and woman who loved without reserve when the world was new.

I force myself to remain a wall between the first alpha’s brutally charged conquest of his omega and the would-be alphas murmuring, struggling, desiring their turns with her.

Mackenzie stirs in me with nothing but a view of the feral men, no sight of the omega behind me, shrieking her well-ridden cries of abandon and insatiable need.

Steady, he says,just do what needs to be done. Don’t think about forever. Just today. Just what’s needed. Think of my sister—I know you love Maisie, just like I do. I know you want her to be safe and reach a beautiful future where she’s empowered to bloom. To live. To seize her life and help change the world.

I didn’t invite you to take my life, but I agreed to share my future with you. I will honor that promise. Now, you must honor yours. Serve your purpose. Do what’s hard. Don’t get lost in what’s gone. Think of all we have to live for now, and how we can inspire that garden to grow again.

His sudden understanding lights within us.You were there at the beginning, weren’t you? You lived and died with the very first omega. You’re the very first alpha, aren’t you?

Yes, Mackenzie, I was there at the beginning, and I’m here at the end. This is the last chance we’ll have to plant seeds and turn this world into a garden again. I’m the fail-safe—like I told you before—but I don’t know if I can do this now with this loss drowning me.

I’ll help you. We’ll do this together. I won’t allow you to get yourself banished just because it hurts to live this life. That’s the entire point, isn’t it? Life is more struggle than bliss, and we’re meant to change that. So, it makes sense that we hurt, that our wounds bleed and ache, that we know loss. Only then can we appreciate the change that’s coming because we never stopped caring about this broken world, no matter how much it broke us. Let me help you.

The first alpha roars his release, and his knot expands to own her. Her scream precedes her instant silence, the sign she’s entered the half-sleep of a knotted omega. This will be her only rest until the heat breaks, and for these minutes, her alphas will regain some of their composure.

The first alpha’s murmured snarl seeks to control us. It works on theprima donnaprince and the edgy, bespectacled man with the floppy hair—though with Mackenzie’s red, flowing locks, I probably shouldn’t judge. Curious, I turn with them, though there is no command from the first alpha that will force my compliance.Thefirst alpha versusafirst alpha—seniority has its perks.

The first alpha is seated, his cock crammed into the omega on his lap, her legs wide, her calves over his thick thighs. His left arm bands her torso, while his right hand strokes her pussy. His touch eases her tension until it’s nonexistent. Her perfume is dizzying in its intensity, still calling us even now.

“How long do we have?” the first alpha—Gideon, the legacy informs me, though I know who the actor is—demands of the mop head, who just stammers, unable to find a hint of front-brain activity, his hind brain overactive in the most unhelpful way.

“Minutes,” I answer for the professor, given his bio by the legacy. At best, he only knows the histories, where I participated in the first heat ever—that was explosive. “The span will lengthen as her exhaustion grows, and our knots will become more attuned to her needs. The first heat is a learning experience for all.”

“Who the fuck are you?” the beta’s alpha asks, his tone less ragey than the curiosity sparking in his dark eyes.

Tell them—they need to know.The legacy is emphatic.

This is going to be interesting. “This body belongs to Mackenzie Malcolm McAllister, her new alpha, who is here with us though not always available.”

Blank stares are all they can manage at present. I should show them fire and watch it dazzle them—that’s what it’s like conversing with new alphas during a rut.

“Come again,” Gideon presses, really trying to focus on what’s important, while his hand continues to pet the slick-covered origin of all our desire.

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