The Archer: Lost Omegas Book 1

Healing

DEIMOS

On his hands and knees, he felt several pieces of the Bond reconnect as she called out that she accepted his offer. He instantly felt some relief from the turmoil that was his mind and spirit since the Bond broke. It was strange, to finally feel some measure of peace while pain erupted from his chest and back. The whip had cut deep. The Berserker would heal him quickly, likely sealing the wounds within a day. The priestess had been right. An act of atonement would start the process of restoring the Bond with his mate. He would need to find a way to earn her forgiveness, then her trust, for the Bond to be fully repaired, but this was a start.

The blood dripped from his chest wounds onto the dry grass below. His back was in worse shape. The blood streaming from those wounds in a steady flow around his ribcage. He knew the wounds would bleed heavily, they were deep, exposing the red meat of the tissues underneath. The calfskin whip was sharp, small spike of metal woven into the tail. He would scar heavily, his own Warrior Marks forever dissected by the lacerations.

He felt her concern for him through the Bond. It was weak, dampened by the fragile connection, but it was there. She had accepted his atonement. The blood falling to the ground was for her, a simple price to pay. He may never be able to provide her the love she claimed she needed in a pairing, but he could prove that he was still a worthy mate. One who would be loyal and devoted to his omega, as all alphas should be. He would find the balance between duty to his people and duty to his mate. The Bond breaking had taught him that lesson in a harsh way, he would not lose this battle. He would find a way for his mate to accept him. Give him her forgiveness, her trust, her submission, her love. He found her recent submissive, meek behavior disgusting. Though he needed her submission, demanded it, he had discovered that he wanted her to choose to submit to him, because she recognized and trusted in his dominance not because he broke her spirit. Seeing such a wild creature broken and tame brought him no satisfaction.

He slowly pushed himself to standing, Cyrene watching him closely. He breathed deep, forcing himself not to stagger or show weakness. It was just pain. It would fade. The agony he felt now he would feel a hundred time again to see the concern in her green eyes. "Let us return to the camp, mate."

Cyrene nodded and started walking back towards the group of tents, but stopped as they neared the camp. "You should rinse those wounds," she said turning to look at him.

Deimos commanded the other warriors to return to the camp. He turned to Laran and opened his mouth prepared to thank him for carrying out the Triad as he asked, but Laran interrupted, "we will speak in the morning, brother. Clean your wounds and rest tonight. We leave for Siwili tomorrow."

He waited until the king and the warriors were several yards away before he turned to Cyrene, taking her hand gently. He expected her to pull out of his hold, but she did not, instead allowing him to lead her on the path to the stream. He released her so he could wade into the shallow water, a pool of red forming around him. He watched Cyrene on the bank, scurrying around collecting flowers. It was an odd thing for her to do, but as she started grinding them into a soft mass with two stones, he realized she was making a poultice. For him. This pleased him.

CYRENE

She felt his satisfaction through the Bond, unsure how she felt about it. She felt his pain through the weak Bond, still broken but less than before. She wanted to be angry, she did not want to be Bonded to this man, but she had felt nothing but relief when King Laran had stopped. She was not heartless, she could not let him go through the Triad a second time and receive another thirty-nine lashes. She knew the Berserker could take more than an normal, mortal man but Deimos' mortal body would have limits.