Page 6 of Stray Omega

To the side, Leros raised himself up, brushing away dirt and spitting out leaves. He turned to Ark, and even in the silvery moonlight it was obvious he was flushed with embarrassment at his misstep.

“You okay, kid?”

Leros nodded. “What about you, boss? She bit you pretty good.”

“Had worse. It’ll heal.”

But the boy was right. The crazy little omega had left a nasty gash on his knuckles. The hot, rusty smell of blood filled the air. Ark went to the packs to find a strip of cloth for a bandage.

“Kid, stoke that fire so we can see what we’re dealing with here.”

The fire had burnt down to dim coals. Leros quickly set to work reviving it. He dropped in a handful of dry pine needles that drifted white smoke then suddenly ignited into orange flames. Atop this he piled twigs, then thicker branches, and in short order the fire was once again snapping and dancing with yellow light.

“All right, imp,” Ark growled. “Let’s have a look at you then.”

As he finished winding the bandage around his stinging knuckles, Ark stepped forward to inspect their quarry. By now the omega had realized the futility of struggling against Orwen’s powerful grasp. Or perhaps she had simply worn herself out. Either way, her small naked body now hung limp and defeated in the alpha’s arms.

“Can’t we just kill her and be done with it?” Orwen grumbled.

“We don’t kill women and children, remember?”

“But she’s a Farlander, boss.”

Ark got closer, letting his eyes rake up and down the omega’s body.

“Hmmm…no, I don’t think she is.”

Yes, she was feral like a Farlander. Her long blond hair was tangled and matted, and her body was smudged with filth. But underneath the layer of grime, Ark could see that her skin was fair, as if she’d rarely been exposed to the sun, and her features were delicate, perhaps even pretty. A far cry from the twisted, mangled look of a typical inbred Farlander.

“She’s got to be a Farlander,” Orwen insisted. “What else would she be doing alone in these parts.”

Ark had to admit, his second had a point. This wild creature surely couldn’t be a from the Central Ruins. Such an omega wouldn’t last two days alone in this wilderness without any alphas to protect her. And a quick inspection of her neck showed that she had not been marked and claimed.

Ark flicked his glance up to meet the omega’s defiant eyes—green eyes that shone in the firelight like sunshine through young leaves.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “What’s your name?”

The omega only growled.

When Ark repeated his question and the omega still refused to answer, Orwen twisted his fist that was buried in her knotted hair, and the omega winced and yipped with pain.

“Easy,” Ark said. “No need to hurt her.” Then to the omega he said a third time, slowly and clearly, “What. Is. Your. Name?”

“Name?”

The word came from the omega’s lips as a raspy whisper. The voice of one unaccustomed to speaking.

The pack leader nodded. “My name is Ark. The one holding you is Orwen. The kid is Leros.”

The omega looked at him blankly.

Ark tried again, gesturing to himself and his companions in turn. “Ark. Orwen. Leros.”

“Shit,” Orwen complained. “Why does she need to know who we are anyway? Look, boss, let’s—“

Ark silenced his second with a sharp look then turned his gaze back to the omega and pointed, making sure to keep his fingers out of range of her teeth.

“Now you, imp. What is your name?”

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