The Archer: Lost Omegas Book 1

Joined

CYRENE

She felt the claiming bite on her next scar over to form his mark. The Gods had blessed their pairing. She didn't feel blessed, she felt further betrayed. Even the Fox God seemed to have forsaken her. Vows were meant to be said with love, an attachment of two people who shared deep affection. She felt none of these things for Lord Deimos, and he felt nothing for her. It was a mockery of the vows, the pairing. Yet the Gods had allowed it! Blessed the pairing. His mark would be on her neck forever.

Pairings were permanent, sacred vows of union. Unless one of them died, they would be tied together in the eyes of not only their tribes, but their Gods, forever. Cyrene knew what came next. The merging of bodies, a giving of one's body to another. She felt the nausea rise in her throat. Would she have to give every part of herself away? Her life to the Skulk, her trust to traitorous leaders, her vows for sister's safety, and now her body to a man that did not love her, he did not even respect her. Would she have nothing for herself in this life? She closed her eyes, stopping the train of thoughts. She would not feel pity for herself. It was a waste of energy, it would not help her, would not strengthen her. She needed to just get through this, just focus on surviving tonight. She would find a way out. She had to.

Lord Deimos still held her hands. He looked at her hungrily, his eyes had gone red, and the Berserker was looking at her like she was prey. It made her nervous. She tried to hide it, meeting the war spirit's eyes defiantly, refusing to drop them in submission- showing him that she was not afraid. But her body told the truth. Her hands were sweaty, her heart racing in her chest. The war spirit swirled in his eye, ready to devour her. She refused to let herself be intimidated by either of them. She had been forced in this situation, but she was not defeated. She was still herself- still Cyrene, Lead Archer of the Skulk.

"Come." He finally spoke, standing and pulling her to her feet. His voice raspy- a sign the Berserker was there, hidden just beneath the man.

She stood, blaming her shaking legs on lack of food. I am not afraid. I am not afraid. Her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest. Would he take her violently? Tear her? Rip her insides apart? She could never overpower him, she had learned that quickly that day by the river. She had no bow, no dagger, nothing to defend herself with. The vulnerability was quickly swirling into fear. She took a breath and centered herself. If she could ride Hibi into battle, with swords and arrows flying around her, she could do this. But Lord Deimos wasn't threatening the Archer, he was threatening the woman. The omega.

Keeping a tight grip on her hand, he led her from the tent and through the camp. Dusk was approaching quickly, the days growing shorter. Lobo men were all around, getting ready for the night. Most stopped and stared at them as they passed, at Lord Deimos with fear and at her with open curiosity. She hated their attention, that they knew what would happen to her tonight. That she was being paraded in front of them. It made heat rise to her cheeks and nausea bloom in her stomach. She saw a few women, Raposo women that had been taken, but they were instantly removed from her sight by one of the warriors. She growled.

Lord Deimos continued walking through the camp, ignoring her growls, pulling her away from the staring men and preventing further attempts to see the Raposo women. Soon, they reached the last few tents of the camp, but he kept walking, out of the camp and down the hill and through the tall grass, until they reached a stream. It was probably once a river, but drought had drained the water from her land. At the water's edge, he finally stopped, turning back to her.

"Undress." He said as he stepped back. She didn't move. He continued threateningly, "Or I will tear the clothing from you and march you naked back through camp."

Snarling angrily, but recognizing she had little choice, she took a step back and toed off the too-big boots. Then pulled her dirty tunic over her head. His gaze instantly dropped to her bound breasts. She turned so her back was to him. She didn't need him eyeing her like a piece of venison. She didn't want to see those swirling red eyes. Cyrene could hear sounds of him undressing behind her, she refused to let herself turn to look, though she was tempted. Instead, she placed her hands on the waist of her leggings, took a deep breath, and tugged them down to her feet in single movement. Stepping out of them, she stood in her underwear in front of him. It was impossible to quell the feeling of nakedness that rose. It made her nervous, skittish. She was not used to feeling this way.