Your Omegas Are Mine 1| Euodia's Sun | Omegaverse Apocalyptic Reverse Harem

17-End of Chapter 5

"Of course, but not all Alphas are scum." She slid slices of bread into a rusty toaster, and it snapped into place spewing out a couple of crumbs. Then she pulled out meat from the fridge, it was in shades of wintery grey but it would have to do. "I'm sure there are good ones out there, you know?"

She turned to look at him, then flinched at the expression on his face. She must have fucked up because there was agitation taut in the tremble of his bottom lip. His brows were knotted so tight it'd formed wrinkles on his forehead. His hair, once pink now seemed almost inflamed into a startling crimson.

And his eyes were shards, glistening slits of citrine that swam with increasing red. There was insanity in the darkness, and she saw now how dangerous he could be. With his nails growing sharp and clawed, and his teeth lengthening into fangs, he moved swiftly, beautiful but deadly. Shit, she'd opened a whole can of worms.

"Helios..."

"You think I wanted to kill Alphas?" he seemed exasperated, his eyes were a mess and they burned. His wings were spread behind his back, towering over her. "I just didn't want to be used. If you'd seen me before, you would have wanted me massaging your fucking feet and cooking that meal on the stove even though I'm sick and hurt and—"

"I know," she soothed quickly, "it was in your backwards, crappy culture. And once you kill off all the adults you can teach the younger generation to be sweeter. I'm sorry, I was insensitive. I don't mean to attack you." He hissed through his teeth, and she could see the clarity of his thoughts in his eyes. She winced, unable to look away from the slit of light that traced the sharpness of his teeth.

"You wouldn't be so kind to me if you'd met me ten years ago," he snarled, hurt springing in his eyes in the form of glistening wetness. He stomped over to her, feet lifted by the shake of feathers. And she noted now the pain that the Alphas had inflicted on him, saw it in the bristle of his feathers and the wideness of maddened eyes. "You'd want me on my back, on my knees, with my wings as your fucking fashion statement—"

"Helios, I've lived here all my life," she answered, quickly, trying to convey her truth. She took his hand so he could eat at her emotions and taste her honesty. She'd stepped on a mine, and he'd blown a fuse. "I don't know what's inside the walls, nor do I know what I have to do with Omegas."

He blinked, grew limp at her words, his face growing ghastly pale. His anger, expelling out of him so quickly that he deflated a little, curled against her back, his breath escaping him in soft unsteady pants. He trembled, quivered in her arms with the insanity and was in a much worse state than she thought he was.

There was no doubt that he had to stay the night.

She took the chance then to dress the meat in diced salted vegetables and pearls of dill oil, sprinkled with the acidity of lemon zest. She plated it with the toast, stale but hot and crispy, sang beneath the knife when she sliced it into two and then poured them both a cup of hot tea, with dollops of golden silky honey.

He was quiet as he leaned against her back, listening to her heartbeat as if he wanted to know that she was alive, as if all he wanted to hear was her heart steady within her being. It was a strange reaction from him, and she led him to her dining table, and turned on a lamp that fizzled with under usage but emitted the sweetest, honeyed glow.

It brought life to the gaunt of his cheeks so purple they sent a shock of anger through her system. She felt her fingers twitch with a strange need to thumb at the deep etch, and smooth out the beginnings of age.

She brought the food to Helios, who took it with a soft splutter of thanks, wide eyes boring into her. He didn't seem quite as interested in the food now, much more content in looking at her. He watched her chew on a sandwich that wasn't that bad with store-bought mayonnaise to cover up the disgusting aftertaste of old frost-bitten meat.

His voice was softer when he asked his question.

"You've never met an Omega before?"

"Not really."

She pursed her lips, wondering what sort of lie she could give him, as she chewed through simple but hot food. She could give him the amnesia card, the orphan card or the I'm-just-a-fucking-hobo card. Perhaps, all three strung between the truth.

"I woke up in a den of the Lonely." She decided to say, the tea was hot enough to scald. "The people in town took me in. The Omega there is old, a victim of war and has had his scent gland and reproductive parts ripped from his body. Tom's the only Omegas here. He taught me most of what I know, and found me in the snow. I live thanks to my abilities. He was the one who told me that I'm a Beta, not an Alpha."

"Oh." The answer was weak and breathy. "But—"

"I'm weaker than an Alpha, I know," she told him, "I don't get Ruts, and I can't smell pheromones just as well."

"You don't smell like a Beta..." he pursed his lips, then shook his head. "And you're a—?"

"Human." Her reply was too quick, but he didn't seem to notice. "I've got nothing, just an affinity with technology."

It had been a point of embarrassment for Euodia, to be so weak that none of the characteristics of her mixed genetics had surfaced. She'd been a powerless being. Quinn assumed that it was possibly due to fucked up royalty inbreeding.

"Oh," he seemed to flush, growing embarrassed as he picked up a piece, the toast was crumbled between his fingertips then brought to his lips. "The blue thing on your face is your ability?"

"Yeah, gets me what I need for a price," she stabbed a thumb towards the display, it flickered. "In the day I work as a scavenger, selling things to the Omegas in your city." She decided to continue, twisting her lies, feigning confusion, and answering questions about why she knew his name. "Have seen your face in magazines. We get that sometimes. You're a King?"

"Prince," he mumbled, licking his fingers. The bread was gobbled up and his tea was swallowed down. She couldn't blame him, for each swallow was golden warmth that made her shiver with pleasure. "Klaus' dad was the one who truly led the rebellion. We're Klaus' soulmates." His eyes widened then, growing glazed as he stroked his neck. "You could join us. I think we'd see the colours on your skin. Our silver." He turned to her then, "and that's what I want the most."

"What?"

"Marking you."

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