Page 16 of Hunting Their Omega

Our Omega.

Our mate.

Wynn stepped into the bathroom as I exited the shower.

“The Council left us some clothes. I guess they were tired of seeing us walk around naked.”

I rubbed a towel over my hair and dropped my voice to a whisper. “There’s something strange about this place—about theCouncil. I keep thinking about that collar and how they dumped the Omegas in the woods. It doesn’t feel right, Wynn.”

Our bond flared to life, his anger scorching through my veins at the mention of the collar.

“I know,” he said, taking my place in the shower and turning on the water.

The door opened behind me, and Alaric joined us, one hand rubbing his chest.

“It’s different than I thought it would be,” Alaric said.

I nodded as I pulled on my clothes. “Stronger.”

“Not just that,” Alaric said thoughtfully. “Our bond is deeper—more intense. It’s almost like I’m inside you.”

“Easy, Casanova. I don’t mind crossing swords, but I’m not letting you take it any further,” Wynn said, smirking.

“Fuck you.” Alaric tossed a towel to Wynn and shouldered his way into the shower. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do.” Wynn toweled behind his neck.

The bond pulsed.

A bond so much more than anything we could describe. One that should have been impossible.

A fated mated bond.

Never one to shy away from the obvious I confessed, “My wolf wants to mark her. Needs to.”

“Shit,” Alaric scrubbed his hand down his face. “So does mine.”

For shifters, marking someone, giving them a permanent bite that branded their skin was a claim. It was a warning to other shifters that the person was off-limits.

Claiming marks were sacred, irreversible.

If you walked away from a mate, your mark would remain on them for the rest of their life. It was the reason many bonded units never claimed their Omegas or allowed them to mark them in return.

Wynn didn’t have to say anything, I felt his need.

“No one is marking anyone until we find out more about her. Until she wants it,” Wynn said. “Do you two have any bright ideas as to how we’re going to integrate Isolde into the pack?” he added, changing the subject.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Wynn murmured. He yanked on the provided clothing and crossed his arms as he leaned against the bathroom sink. “Clearly, the Council kept the Omegas in the dark. They’re even more naive than we planned for.”

“Why would they make them so vulnerable?” I asked. “It doesn’t make sense. If they’re as submissive and weak as the Council says, even the strongest Omegas wouldn’t be able to outmaneuver us. Why send them into the woods with nothing? Why bind them with collars made of black magic?”

Alaric turned off the water. “Foul play. The Council excommunicated witches from the shifter community after the Black War, and the Hunt didn’t start until ten years later. The laws are strict about the punishment for housing magical items,worse for getting caught using or making deals for spells or hexes. Yet somehow, this collar is being used by the Council for the Hunt. This can only mean one thing: someone is breaking the rules and making deals with the witches again.”

“But at what cost?”

Wynn scowled as we contemplated what else the Council lied about.

“We need to get Isolde back to Hidden Creek as soon as possible,” I said. “Then we can think about what the Council is or isn’t hiding.”

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