Page 50 of Unlikely Omega

“Betrayed who, Finn?”

“My gods. Who do you think? It doesn’t fucking matter. We’re imprisoned again, about to be sent back. What does it matter how I feel, how cold I am?” He gestures at the fire burning in the metal stove. “Go, get yourself warm.”

I’m frustrated that he sounds like he’s giving up, and the band around my heart tightens. “Don’t say such things. We’ll get out of this. Let me—”

“Someone is coming,” he says, faintly, his voice scratchy, and he stumbles back. I grab his arm to stop him from walking into the fire.

“Someone? What do you mean?”

The tent flap opens and the two guards step inside. They come straight for me, grab my arms and haul me away from Finnen. These women are so strong. “Come on, omega.”

“No,” I shout, “no!” I struggle but it’s no use. My heels drag on the rugs thrown on the floor of the tent. “Leave me be. The commander said I should warm myself up here.”

“Ariadne!” Finn comes after me, but one of the guards swings her spear and hits him right in the stomach with the back end of it, sending him crashing to the ground.

“No! Don’t touch him!” I yell. “Don’t hurt him!”

“Take her,” the guard says, jutting her chin at the open flap. “Who knows what the army priest wants with her filthy ass, but let’s hurry this up. I’m not going to have the gods angry at me for being late because of her antics. And tie that flap shut.”

16

TAJ

I’m a Black Wolf, a commander in the royal army, and it means the fucking world to me. I’ve always done my duty to the empire, obeyed those higher up, told the truth and fought like a wolf when asked to do so.

When asked a question, I reply what I believe to be the truth.

When I’m given a task, I carry it out.

I’ve been singled out as Fae-blood since I was still a boy. So I was promptly sent to the army and told never to return home.

Yeah, I didn’t return home. Haven’t been home in more than ten years, by my counting. I joined the army as an aide and armor bearer, to take care of the horses, pack the tents, polish and sharpen the swords and knives. I’ve been raised by the army, in all honesty. This is my home.

And I still don’t know what use it is. Just bad luck, I guess, having been given a body that not only looks different but also works differently from other men’s. A disadvantage, something you get teased and bullied over—because getting an erection is something that only happens when you get wet dreams, or smell a random smell, and otherwise can’t easily get it up. You’re a dysfunctional male and an abomination, something my parents apparently knew before I ever did. Something about the way I looked.

To be frank, I can’t really remember their arguments. They didn’t explain much, either. Nobody ever has. It’s a given that I’m weird, different but not special, and I’ve been fighting double time to beat my odds. Becoming a commander meant I regularly pushed myself to the limits, jumped to the front line, offering myself as a sacrifice, like the berserkers, the Drakoryas living in the woods, waiting to offer their lives for the empire.

Being a Fae-blood has meant nothing but trouble until now. It mostly meant I’m not fully human. Am I an alpha? Who the hell knows?

But with this girl…

All I know is that she’s an omega. My body knew her right away. Her scent is the most addictive thing I’ve ever experienced.

You don’t have to be Fae-blood to get under an omega’s spell. And yet I’ve never smelled anything this wonderful, this potent, in my entire life.

So when the General asked what’s so special about my two prisoners, I had to tell him—that he’s a priest, and she’s an acolyte, but not only that.

So he asked to see her and sent guards to bring her to him.

Since my presence wasn’t required anymore, I left.

Not because I don’t want to see what the General will do. If he’ll smell her and lose his mind, like I almost did. If he’ll take her, fuck her there, in his tent. If he’ll keep her for himself, as a plaything or to barter for something.

Fuck, I don’t wanna see it.

We’re animals, we Black Wolves. The General is the worst of us all. You have to be nasty to rise in the ranks. Heartless. You need to step on bodies to make your way up.

The emblem of the wolf’s head feels wrong on my breastplate and helmet sometimes, when I think about it. But it’s still who I am.

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