Page 31 of Stray Omega

CHAPTER 12: ARK

Ark reclined in the sticky aftermath. The grass mat was sodden and ruined. Its woven leaves were torn in places and drenched with a pungent mixture of bodily fluids. No point in even attempting to clean it—the mat would have to be thrown out. Good thing there were three more.

Ark’s pack brother’s lay nearby on the stone floor, their panting, sweat-sheened bodies limned by the orange glow of the fire.

The omega lay curled and messy in his arms.

From the outside, Ark looked totally relaxed. But within his chest, his heart was pounding a rapid tattoo, and his brain was churning with a multitude of conflicting thoughts that seemed every bit as loud as the roar of the waterfall that curtained the entrance of this hidden lair.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Ark dipped his eyes to the naked and bespattered omega who lay shivering in his embrace. His gaze roamed all over her enchanting little body, but his eyes always returned to that place where her delicate neck curved into her soft shoulder. The skin there was marred by a small wound—a red dotted crescent where Ark’s teeth had punctured her flesh.

She was marked.

And it was his doing.

The wound had already closed. It was mending quickly, and by the following morning, it would be completely healed, leaving behind a dark crescent of scar tissue that attested Ark’s claim over this omega. The rapidity of the healing was due to certain enzymes in Ark’s alpha saliva, which had a rejuvenative effect on omega flesh. Or so he had been told. But that was Outsider science, which had a rational explanation for everything. As far as Ark was concerned, however, it was magic, plain and simple. The magic of the Source.

Anyway, he was less concerned about how that bite mark was healing, and far more concerned about its implications.

He had marked the omega.

Ark had not meant for that to happen. His intention had merely been to quell the omega’s heat. But her scent had been so intoxicating, her mewling whimpers so arousing, that he had lost control of his animal urges and gone too far.

The omega belonged to him now, and by extension his pack brothers. She was theirs—their possession, their responsibility.

Ark gazed at the omega a moment longer as the neverending crash of the waterfall reverberated through the warm, swirling air of the cave.

“What are we going to do about her?” Orwen asked.

Ark’s second was sitting up now, arms resting on his knees. His usual disgruntled look had returned to his face. Ark paused for one beat before answering.

“Don’t know.”

Ark wondered how much the omega could understand. She seemed to have some rudimentary linguistic skills, but he wasn’t sure how much. Did she know they were discussing her?

“I say we get rid of her,” Orwen growled. “We’ve done our good deed and put out her heat. Now let’s take her back to the woods and tell her to get lost.”

Ark had expected that reaction from Orwen. In point of fact, it was not unheard of. Among the tribes of the Central Ruins, a pack of alphas might tend to the needs of an unmarked omega, and afterward they would go their separate ways, perhaps never even speaking again. It was certainly the cleanest, simplest solution, In other circumstances, Ark may have even agreed with Orwen’s proposal.

But this situation was anything but simple now.

Ark shook his head. “Orwen, she’s been marked.”

By me,Ark added mentally, I’ve marked her. Why exactly had he done that? Something had come over him in that moment of passion. It was like he had been bewitched by this strange little omega.

“Nobody needs to know that,” Orwen remarked. “Not if we don’t take her back to the ruins. That crazy omega doesn’t understand what that mark means.”

“You don’t know that,” Leros blurted.

“Shut up, kid,” Orwen growled.

Ark slowly raised his hand, signalling for silence. “Both of you shut up. I’m the pack leader, and I’ll be making the final decision in this matter. But I need time to think about it, and I’m not going to decide on an empty stomach.”

Both Orwen and Leros looked at him silently.

“We’re not going back to the ruins tonight, brothers. We’ll sleep here and strike out again at sunup.”

It was, after all, their usual routine. All three of them preferred the majesty of the wilderness to the tribal rules and strictures of life in the Central Ruins. Of course, from time to time it was necessary to return to the ruins in order to rejuvenate themselves in the presence of the Source. But whenever they would return from one of their long scouting excursions in the forests and the badlands beyond, they would always spend one final night here in this peaceful cave, savoring nature’s beauty.

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