Page 5 of Hunting Their Omega

The Council was known for being overly cautious, but I couldn’t say I blamed them, considering they were allowing almost eighty virile males inside their walls—males who were ready to do whatever it took to leave with a mate.

This was our pack, the Hidden Creek’s first year of eligibility, and it was my job as Alpha to lead my unit into our first claim. All the other units in our pack were counting on our success. Only then could they participate in the Hunt. The Council admitted one unit from each sanctioned pack to compete in every Hunt, and there were four Hunts a year. That meant there were only four chances to bring an Omega to the pack each year until, hopefully, all the units had mates and pups.

Bishop shrugged. “No matter. We’ll see them eventually.”

I grunted my agreement and led my unit to the security doors. Two Council Enforcers operated the door while an official stoodbehind them with a clipboard, checking in the invited units. The older shifter peered at me, and the sneer fell from his face at my blank expression.

“Alpha Wynn, Beta Bishop, and Gamma Alaric of the Hidden Creek,” I said smoothly.

He gave a sharp nod, scribbling something on his board as he found our names.

“Welcome, Alpha unit. The Council wishes you a successful Hunt.” He stood aside to let us pass.

We entered the large, well-lit space. Tables were arranged in the center of the room, and each had a sign bearing a unit’s name. A steaming buffet and drink station took up one wall, and a handful of units crowded around it with cups of coffee.

My nose tingled with the wild, musky scent of unfamiliar wolves. Alphas, Betas, and Gammas filed inside, sticking close to their unit as they looked around. Alaric was right—the cloying smell of desperation and longing was overwhelming. As were the narrow, assessing gazes roving over us as we entered.

Pack treaties and alliances didn’t exist—not in the Hunt, where the prize was the survival of your pack. Everyone was an enemy.

A reassuring warmth filtered down the bond, and I recognized Bishop’s calming presence. My unit felt my Alpha instincts rising in the face of aggression, but luckily, they knew how to calm me.

Even so, my wolf snapped a warning, ready to take fur at a moment’s notice.

“Easy, big guy. Save it for the Hunt,” Alaric said as he placed a large hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

I huffed, rolling my neck to ease some of the tension in my muscles.None of them matter, I reminded myself.Focus on securing an Omega.

“Goddess only knows why Omegas were given the ability to breed. If strength is an important factor, Alpha or Beta females would have been the better choice,” I muttered.

Bishop’s thick brows lifted. “Maybe you’re judging them too harshly. I mean, what do we really know about Omegas? Everyone says they’re timid and meek, but that could be a lie.”

I gave him an incredulous look. “Why would the Council protect them so fiercely otherwise? If they could survive on their own, they would be with a pack. That life, living in the solitude of a confined building, cut off from other shifters, is not just unnatural; it’s blasphemy.”

“You know what happened before the Council stepped in and offered their protection,” Alaric said. “Males quite literally killed to get their hands on Omegas, and packs were consistently at war. It doesn’t matter how strong you are—no one can run forever. Who wants to spend their life being hunted?”

“Why would they even try? To take a bound mate is . . .” Alaric’s face soured as he went silent, unable to finish the thought.

“Desperation,” I replied. “It brings out the worst in people.”

I swallowed my rising distaste and mentally prepared for the hours ahead. I wasn’t good with tears or fragility, and the thought of binding our unit to a female who would cower in our presence set my wolf on edge.

How the hell am I going to do this?

I was more thankful than ever for my unit. If she was a spineless, helpless creature, Bishop’s talent for easing the emotions of others and Alaric’s easygoing nature could be of comfort.

We headed to our table and took our seats. Bishop struck up a conversation with the unit next to ours in an attempt to find out more about the Omegas. The man could charm the venom out of a snake—it was one of the many reasons he was my Beta.

Omegas were a mystery in general. The information we had was passed down from mated units or the Council themselves, so needless to say, the facts were few and far between.

“Think he’ll have any luck?” Alaric asked, his sharp eyes cataloging the males in the room.

“Doubt it,” I replied. “You know how males can be about their mates.” Covetous, possessive, and suspicious.

The only established information regarding Omegas had to do with their heat. When the time came, they perfumed with a hormonal scent known to make adult males feral with need. Their bodies produced thick slick that made it easier to bury oneself to the hilt, ensuring impregnation, and they grew insatiably needy due to their instincts.

The rest of what we’d heard was a slew of contradicting rumors. Some said Omegas were weaker than other wolves, while others claimed their sharp minds made them strong. They were all virgins, but they’d fuck the closest dominant wolf if they got the chance. They had to be tended to like children, yet their sole purpose was to give birth to our young.

None of it made sense.

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