Page 36 of Stray Omega

Like a fountain, Embla spit a stream of water directly into the alpha’s face.

“Source!” Ark closed his eyes against the unexpected playful attack and shook his head while the omega broke into a fit of wild laughter.

“I cock! Hee-hee! I cock!”

Ark rubbed the water from his eyes and glared at Embla. The omega looked up at him with a beaming smile, evidently quite proud of her little joke.

“Naughty little imp,” Ark rumbled.

Tossing the sponge back to the stone shore, Ark lathered up his hands with the remainder of the soap and began to work it into the omega’s wild mane of blond hair. His fingers caught on many tangles. They would deal with those once they got back to the ruins where there were combs. For now, Ark would just do the best he could to cleanse the dirt away.

He massaged her scalp deeply, and she moaned softly in satisfaction. She leaned back into him hard now, abandoning herself completely—for the time being at least.

While he rubbed, massaged, and lathered her hair, Ark’s eyes fell again on the mark.

Source, what was he going to do about that?

He thought back to what Orwen had said. His second had said that the omega didn’t even understand what the mark meant, but Ark was not so sure about that. That mark went deeper than words and rational thought. He and the omega were bound now on a primal level.

Then again, Orwen had a point. Embla would never fit in with the other omegas of the Central Ruins. She would be shunned by them for her wild, untamed ways.

And more than that, taking on an omega mate would change the entire dynamic of the pack. Being unmated meant they were free to roam the wilderness of the Zone freely. But that would not be the case if they completed the bonding process. They would be unable to travel too far away from their omega mate without experiencing physical and emotional torment. The omega would have to stay behind in the Central Ruins for protection. And at least one of the alphas would need to stay with her at all times, missing out on future excursions.

Ark was not sure that he was ready for that.

The wilderness was his first love, and he was not ready to give that up for a domestic life amid the bustle of the Central Ruins.

It was a dilemma.

Embla or the wilderness. He could not have them both.

But weirdly enough, Embla herself seemed like the very embodiment of the wild lands. Her untamed, unpredictable personality that could shift at a moment’s notice, sunny and calm one second, then raging like a thunderstorm the next. Her eyes, green as sunlight through new leaves in spring. And her scent—oh Source, her scent—rich and earthy and slightly tart like wild berries and raw honey.

Ark knew what he had to do.

He would not send her away like Orwen wanted. Nor would he drag her kicking and screaming to the Central Ruins on a leash.

No, he would let Embla choose.

Tonight, when they lay down for sleeping, he would take the leash off of her. If she was still there in the morning—of her own volition—then Ark would know that they were meant to be together.

Embla made an annoyed whimper in his arms.

“Why stop?” she asked.

Ark had been so deep in thought that he had stopped massaging her scalp. With a purr, he started again, working the lather deep into her roots. But his eyes never left the mark on her neck.

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