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

20-End of Chapter 6

No-Man's town was the last stand of the Alphas, a black market that he and his family had allowed to live simply because of the convenience. He couldn't deny the need for scavengers to hunt down items that were needed. And a handful of Alphas left to rot within the lands of apocalyptic doom were small fry.

An old Omega was the voice of the entire syndicate (they couldn't allow an Alpha to be in power). And he guided his brethren well enough for them to survive, the man was in charge of the business, and he kept it systematic and beneficial to the empire. Besides, none could pass the teleportation system aside from the Omega and thus what remained of the scented Alphas were kept at bay.

The Omega had been waiting when he arrived, greying and blind, with eyes so blue they were almost white. He was fey just like Solar was, and he'd swept prophetic eyes over him murmuring praise. His wings, like his, were gossamer and moonshine, diamonds and star dust. They flapped softly, made beads of light that danced with the motes and the grains of weathered fine sand that coated the back of his throat.

Solar's was just as pretty, maybe even prettier.

"You come searching," the Omega mumbled, babbling away, "the wastelands are the remnants of history. Why come to the past when you can seek the future?" Solar didn't have to speak, a soldier stepped forth demanding he bow, a gun nudged towards his face.

There was a flurry of sound and Solar peered at the crowd that clattered forward. The Alphas were immediately leering and whistling, exuding pheromones and perfumes so thick he cringed at the scent of stale water, drying rain, and soil.

He'd forgotten that Alphas had the oddest of perfumes, not pretty like the Omegas but strange items that made breathing difficult. He admitted that when in Heat and under the doctrine of the Matriarchy, he'd once found the smells sexy, had even enjoyed moth balls and clouds of dust.

Mated to six, now all he smelt from them was the unsentimental bite of their body odour.

Solar's face twisted into disgust, wrinkled his nose, and then recoiled. He was thankful for the suppressants, the medicine injected into his veins to stop his needs for an Alpha forever. It gave them all the ability to fight back, had been the reason why they'd won the war.

Without it they'd have lost the moment an Alpha Rut wafted into their nose, would have bent over and spread their legs for the women to fuck them.

A sword placed too close to the artery was enough to get the women to grow quiet in the den. The inn was so small and dirty it seemed to sag, the boards creaking. Wooden beams and waterproof tarp were stretched to make ceilings and walls.

The windows were cracked glass, painted darker to block out light. Wood and stone were all that they had to build the hut on stilts, and he could see the ferment of the apocalypse, agitating and peeling at the cracks. The beams swallowed the abuse but could not bear its weight. He could see that even now, Alphas worked on keeping the establishment together, pinning more boards over a sagging wound.

The Omega offered him food and drink at a table. A cushion was laid upon chipped seat as if his ass needed the pampering. He scoffed and threw it to the side then gagged at the cup of murky water that was brown with bits of sediments at the bottom of the cup, and biscuits with a strong scent of age.

They lived poorly, but he felt no pity.

Alphas were people with the minds of rapists, paedophiles, and murderers. They were women that only knew blood shed and tears, anger and revenge, lust and never love. They were controlled by their instincts, savage beyond reason.

Alphas enjoyed all benefits, and the Omegas had been the bottom of the caste. Naturally, they hadn't relinquished their rights so easily. They had wanted the easy sex, the financial benefits, the rights for healthcare, education, and ownership. The men prostrating at their feet for every meal.