Page 1 of Impaled By His Omega Prince
Chapter One
Lumic
It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Lumic to slip out of camp in the middle of the night. He liked the way the moon looked, and how her light shone upon him, though his kingdom believed the heavenly sisters had forsaken them. But, it was the only time he had to stretch his wings. And so what if he admired the night sister?
Like any omega, he possessed wings like an insect, and to his people, they held stereotypes and legends as to their meaning. As he strode far enough away from the camp to go shirtless, he stretched his broad chest and let his sharp, black wings free. Four pointed, papery appendages, black as night that reflected the moonlight with a rainbow of colors. And from the screechwasp he’d borne his wings in likeness to, he had a similar temperament. Short, violent, fierce. Not unlike his stature but far from the frail, delicate omegas of Liaberos. His people, despite being fae themselves,mostly, held dwarven blood in some small part and Lumic showed it in his stocky build.
The rustle of wings broke the silence with a hum as he drew himself skyward, his horns regaining their familiar weight on his head. They curled like the spindle-legged frost deer from the north with a color that matched his ebon wings. He swore on his honor, it felt amazing to reveal that form. Even more so to bask in the sensation. And as he flew, he had the strangest urge that should have been abhorrent to him. To pray.
Such things in his kingdom were profane. They were a godless nation, Croatens. Forsaken.
Worship me. Call my name and I shall aid you. Spare my child and I shall bless you.
He halted midair, his wings whirring in place as he dared to glance up at the open, glowing orb of the moon. He resisted the urge to present his index and middle finger to her in a rude gesture, referencing anal penetration. Among betas, it seemed to be a great insult—to him, it just seemed like fun.More cock for me!
Lumic had expectations as a prince that he would outgrow in time, where he would eventually move on from his military duties to manage a subjugate land to his father’s, King Pallosar’s, kingdom. He’d be a baron or marquis in time, as a third-born son. The world had many options for Lumic, and King Pallosar would not object if he wanted an inheritance to seek his fortune, become a merchant. His only duty was to his kingdom, and to secure the rebel lands to their southwest, bringing them into the folds of Croatens. He assumed that would be his land in time. The castle there was lovely, if not owned by King Alluin of Liaberos as a summering castle, though they never used it. As evidenced by the band of brigands that had taken over the place.
Lumic would make it his. He vowed it. He merely had to do so without bringing the wrath of Liaberos and the sun goddess who blessed all fae blood with the one thing all their kind needed—vitalis.
His father put him in charge of a small army of conscripted soldiers, guarded by the king’s first knight, who had been his personal guard at one point in time. Though, he did a piss-poor job of keeping up with Lumic. The alpha couldn’t fly to save his life and had a drinking problem that made it far too easy for the prince to go on his late-night dalliances. Even if his bed hadn’t been warned by another in far too long.Stupid Oryn.
The one thing the alpha was good at was virtue guarding.
Whipping along forest tops, bathing in moonlight, Lumic found himself at home. And the world around him had no rules in the sky, no stern words from pretentious betas or pigheadedalphas. The dumb brutes were good for little, save for a warm bed and an orgasm or three. But alas, the rules of heritability said the firstborn son inherited the crown. Lumic’s father, the king of Croatens, was rigid when it came to tradition. Even if he was an omega, himself. Even if Lumic’s firstborn brother, Stamel, was the dumbest alpha to ever flaunt a knot.
The pig had two bastard sons by the time he reached adulthood. One of them was in education to be Lumic’s vassal. The kid, a rather dull beta with middling thalms, would be his problem in time.
On that particular night, Lumic had more interest in flight than stretching his wings. With most of his camp asleep, he thought he might fly ahead, making his way past the border of Croatens and scout things out, as it were. With his dark clothing and black wings, he was near impossible to spot at night without magic.
Flashpine forests spread aggressively along his route, marked for harvest by the Liaberian king and Drashil, their new union raising some eyebrows among the continent’s regency. When a country bound by the goddess to eternal peace united with the most warmongering nation ever to wield a sword, either “great things happened” or “great, thingshappened.” Either way, Croatens thrived. In war, they trained soldiers and made armies. In peace, they harvested flashpine to keep it from spreading across the roads and trade routes.
Croatens kept the world moving.
As he crested a particularly aggressive and thick patch of the flashpines, making note of a seed-bearing matron—one that would ignite, throw seeds for miles, and grow more awful, invasive, and likely profitable, trees—he dipped down to ground level and cast a charm over his eyes to let him see like a wildercat, bathing the world in strange gray light. The sweet coo of a nightbird calmed any nerves he had as he brought coldfingers to the trunk. Magic, pure and sharp, coursed through him.
Die,he thought. Lumic channeled magic that in half the continent would be illegal into the tree. Above, dried and dead seedpods slowly dropped from the canopy in a rain around him. The rush of them pattered the ground as sparse needles curled into tight coils as dense as the grassboar’s tail. As they fell, they spiraled in a corkscrew, creating a delightful sound, dainty but decidedlyfinal.
As the remaining seedpods fell from the tree, he balked at how developed they were. Given a day or even two, the tree may have ejected its seeds.
Then it happened.
A seed pod fell from the tree with a dense thud.
It should have been sucked dry.
The flashpine, as its name implied, went up in a flash. One in a hundred trees might hold the trait to be a matron. It would grow tall and spread sharp ochre flowers with nectar so toxic only screechwasps and carrionpidgeons would dare drink it. That wasn’t saying much for the screechwasps’ part as they’d burrow into and drink the blood of an orc if they didn’t swat them. Those pollinated flowers would harden, petals sharp as blades, and when the explosion happened, their petals launched like shrapnel and the seed, free of its casing, caused a secondary explosion that burrowed it into the earth, or sometimes a corpse, where it would grow into a full flashpine in days.
It ticked with a dry crack.
Hardly a second passed before Lumic could even react, what little tree had not died at that time exploded, triggering the errant living seed pods to explode in sympathy.
It happened fast, the force and fire flinging Lumic away. His wing caught on a branch, horn racking against a tree branch, wing tearing with the most sickening sensation and noise.Damp earth slammed into him, and he rolled; time, space, and sensation, all abandoned him.
Sound rang in Lumic’s ears, his vision going with it.
His final thought slipped away like only so much citronelia wine in a victory camp.
Nobody knew where he was.
