The Archer: Lost Omegas Book 1

Triad

DEIMOS

He laid next to her in the dark, listening to her soft, steady breathing. The sun was only an hour or so away from rising. It had been three days since the Quitar. During this time, he felt the Bond continue to die, fall away piece by piece. He had left her the morning following the Quitar, to help the others attempt to track down her sister, who escaped that night. Their efforts had been unsuccessful so far. There were no tracks, no scents, nothing to help his warriors find her trail. It was unusual and suspicious. Several of the Skulk soldiers lingering in the Lobo camp claimed this vanishing was a hallmark of the Vibora. Several Lobo soldiers were still out in the plains, still searching for signs of the fleeing omega, but Deimos had returned to the camp alone. He was becoming too unbalanced the longer he was away from her. 

The Berserker was getting harder to control. The war spirit was falling into fits of rage at the broken Bond, tearing into Deimos' mind. If the Berserker broke free outside of a battle, it would be dangerous for everyone. The spirit had no mercy, it would tear apart anyone it desired in its bloodlust. Laran was worried. The other Lobo warriors were worried. The Raposo soldiers were worried. They saw his deteriorating mental condition, the Berserker surfacing with no provocation. They knew that he was damaged, that his Bond with his spirit mate had been damaged. They saw the claiming mark fading from his neck, and as it faded, the more Deimos appeared to be losing control. The moment he had returned to the camp and entered his tent, seeing her sleeping form on the bedroll, the Berserker quieted for the first time in days.

Deimos shifted, pulling Cyrene into his arms slowly so not to wake her. She stirred anyways at his touch, her body turning stiff and tense as she became aware of his presence. He fought back the instinct to purr for her. It would not help calm her, as he had learned the night of the Quitar. "Tell me what you need from me, Cyrene. Tell me what I must do," he pleaded quietly.

"I need nothing from you, Deimos," came the soft reply. It was not said argumentatively or harshly, but rather a gentle statement, a tender correction. It infuriated him. He wished she would fight him. Yell at him. Hit him. Anything. Instead he was lost on how to respond to this docile woman that had replaced his fiery mate. Or rather, the woman that was left after he extinguished the fire he did not realize he craved so desperately.

He did not know how to proceed, what to say, what to do. What could be done? He was powerless to change the past. His only insight into this woman had been her sister, who escaped after the Quitar. Was this his destiny after all? To find his spirit mate only to lose her? Perhaps he deserved this. He held a Berserker inside him. He had done terrible things with the war spirit, killed more men than any other warrior, and enjoyed it. He enjoyed killing. He was a heartless bastard. But this woman had stirred something in him from the moment he saw her. The Bond made him feel whole, for the first time. Now both the Bond and himself were broken. He needed this woman like he needed air in his lungs, blood in his veins, but he was losing her.

"I will let you rest," he muttered as released the woman in his arms, rolling away from her, angry at his own self-pity. The Gods did not do this, he had made his own choices that led him here. Now, he needed to make different ones. Her sister had told him to earn Cyrene's forgiveness and trust. But he did not have an answer to how. As he stood, he recognized that he did not understand his mate's culture or her side of the Bond well enough to find a solution on his own. Though it humbled him to admit, he needed help if he had any hope to repair the Bond before it died completely.

A thought came to him as he left the tent, walking into the quiet camp. Through questioning the other omegas on Gwendolyn's escape, he had learned that her sister was training to become a priestess to the Fox God. One that would eventually lead Raposo ceremonies to honor their God. Ceremonies like pairings. Bond blessings. Births and funeral pyres. They all received training on these rites, the knowledge passed down from generation to generation. Perhaps among the omegas there was another priestess that could provide him with information about the Bond. He knew the alpha ways of Bonding. He needed to learn what he did not know: the Bond from the side of an omega.