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

33- Beginning of Chapter 11

Five was a prisoner born to abhor her kind.

The son of the fallen ancient kingdom of the North—a land that Euodia's ancestors had declared authority over through capitalism and warfare. Icarus was of true, ancient royalty—a blue blood with hair as white as snow and lips as red as blood.

He was of people that remembered the time before the matriarchy; before the sickness created the Omegaverse; before the people transformed into supernatural beasts. Shifters, vampires, and fey were by-products of medicine to save mankind from a deadly virus. And Icarus's people were the last to be cured with the finest of technology, had been given the best of it all.

And that made them vampires of royalty.

Vampires that did not require just as much blood. Vampires that were not as troubled by the needs of the Omegaverse. Vampires that did not scream and sob through their Heats and Ruts the way the others did. Icarus's people were beyond their kind in strength, resilience, and power. And yet a decorum remained, their dignity preserved.

They were the rulers of the Before.

But they had a single deadly flaw.

A weakness that was discovered by Euodia's own court. A spell of slavery harnessed by the wolves in the dim, unforgiving light of the moon. And his people had known nothing of its existence, had not been privy to the weakness their enemies discovered, knew nothing of their impending doom.

Their destruction was foretold in the stars.

Icarus lived most of his life in the glow of fluorescent yellow, to rusting pipes and wet rock for walls. He dwelled deep underground, in the heart of the rebel's stronghold, protected and cherished as their best. He'd trained to rule, trained to fight.

His parents wanted the North; his people wanted justice. The citizens wanted revenge.

But the rebels were not quite as clever with the ways of the world. His parents had been far too kind, far too stupid, began their siege with emotion clouding all decision. They waged war against an army that far outnumbered their people 3 to 1, fought when the air was too cold, and food was too scarce.

There was no sacrifice in their battle, and they tried to save all when they could not. The rebels were not as bloodthirsty and as violent as the Northern Alphas. And that made them ants in a nest, clawing against an armoured boot.

It had been too easy for the Northern Alphas to spike their drinking source with poison and end their supplies with a tap of their fingers. A hard winter was all it took for their people to betray them for blood and coal. His people had been drugged when they came armed in metal that cancelled all magic.

His family was murdered, throats ripped apart by soldiers that came flooding through the caves. His mother and sister had been first to go, and then his father, who'd shielded their bodies from the bullets with open arms. His people were enslaved. The remains of a nation were gone in mere hours.

Icarus was the last pure-blooded Omega of his kind.

For thirty days, he was kept in a cell that saw no light. A million ways to kill listed softly on his breath like a chant, his body trembling with the need to take revenge. His first taste of fresh air had been chained to the feet of the Beta princess.

Euodia.

He knew she was weak, could hear her sour blood pounding through her veins, could almost taste it misting in the air when his hands pulled apart the rubbery tubes of arteries and veins. And he felt his magic, shifting swiftly to take a hold of the fluids within her. His power dancing deep within his soul, turning blood into his weapons.