Unnatural Omega

Chapter 10 - Kwame

He hasn't told us everything, but I've let him keep the knowledge to himself. I sense that if Jumoke were to voice the information on the tip of his tongue, the mission would come to a screeching halt.
And I need my omega. Yet again, the connection between us has changed. No longer is her pain ruling my insides. Despair and disgust overflowed from her, and nothing I did could reach her through the barrage of horror.
Just as suddenly as it began, the horrible waves of emotions ceased. An odd sensation had wobbled through my heart, almost as though she'd sent some unsteady thing to inspect me.
Now, I feel her fierceness, and proudness races through my soul.
How can someone die in an unexpected and catastrophic event, be forced back to life, and find such courage?
I need her. My instincts pull at me to claim her, angry that I haven't consumed her yet. Trying to contain the clamoring inside my heart, soul, and mind, I focus on my surroundings.
Everyone except for Nova is here, hidden in the desert sand surrounding an underground bunker. I sense their slow heartbeats, our bodies prepared for whatever may come.
There are multiple entrances, our new enemies smart enough to not corner themselves. Jumoke worked his magic and found blueprints of this operation, but we've also made escape plans should the mission go wrong. We're all armed to the hilt, carrying our body weight, if not more, in gear and weapons.
The plan is to infiltrate, beeline to the omega section, and extract our lifemates.
We haven't found anything to indicate they've been separated yet, but my heart tells me Dirk's omega isn't below. I long to weep for him, but now is not the time. We will save the ones we can on this mission, then continue to search for his.
We each wear undetectable trackers on either our wrists or ankles, linking us invisibly to Nova and ensuring our teammates can find us should the worst occur.
Hidden in our suits, Dirk has rigged individual black out relays, like the one we used in the room in Embilte. Our foe isn't expecting an assault—they are so secretive that an attack is very slim—but we aren't taking risks. We will enter as a team and we will exit as a team.
Converging on a hidden entrance, we use hand signals to convey our statuses.
The desert wind howls around us, hiding our movement and giving us the element of disguise.
Vander presses a button on a wrist communicator he hijacked from an unsuspecting Alpha soldier, and Seeck tosses a little disc onto the sand covering the entrance. At the same time, Dirk tosses another disc towards the south and I creep closer to the buried door.
A soft pop reverberates through the sand. I lunge forward and heave, Dirk joining me in lifting the door. Pounds of sand weigh it down, but we open it wide, most of the grains flinging up into the wind. As they fly away, Vander jumps into the opening, and Dirk is right on his heels. I prop the door open as Jumoke and Seeck follow into the darkness, no fear in their movements. In one quick twist, I join them, closing the hatch behind me with a careful snick.
Bracing on the sloping floor, I stand with my breath held. No alarms sound, and no electricity surges through wires—we haven't tripped a silent alarm. No one is any wiser that we've breached the facility. I place a mauve-colored patch on the crease of the handle, making sure it molds to the metal. It begins to warm, pulling the inactivated disc towards it. The magnetic field of this nifty little device only allows it to pull things northward, hence Dirk tossing the disc south.
I signal success and Vander leads the way down the narrow passage. It feels as though we are descending into the pits of hell. Misery and pain bleed from the walls, and the smell of ammonia and other cleaning agents waft through the air.
We sprint down the hall, no doors to distract us. Making no noise, we close in on our target with surprising speed. Vander chose our entrance wisely—the escape hatch is unmanned, yet near the holding cells.
Vander halts at the end of the hallway, the downward slope ending and four other passages available. After a moment of stillness, he takes the second one from the right. We file after him, our lightweight blades the only weapon in our hands. We've strapped the rest of our gear to our bodies with so much skill they fit like a second skin—they make no noise when we move. Our soft-soled boots don't click on the concrete floor but allow us maximum traction.
My heart leaps into my throat as an eerie sensation courses through my link.
We're close. I can feel her. She's three doors down the next hall. Vander checks around the corner, then freezes. With a fist in the air, he signals for us to halt. We do, the exertion of running down the corridors not affecting our breathing. It would take much more to elevate our heartrates.
A feminine scream may do the trick. My heart enters my throat as a tortured wail cracks through my skull. For a moment, I almost give in to the urge to pounce past my teammates and save the omega, but instead I reach into the link and test my lifemate's condition.
She isn't the one screaming. For an awful moment, I am relieved that it isn't her. Then the woman screams again, and I grit my teeth against the flash of anger that rises in me.
Vander lifts four fingers, indicating that there are four assailants. Then he resets his hand into a fist, pauses, and motions Dirk to follow him. In a coordinated move, they pop around the corner and rush down the hall. Seeck stands guard at the corner, protecting their back should they need it. A few grunts and sounds of impact later, the female's scream rings out again. Seeck motions us forward and we spring into action.
Seeck rips the lock off the first door on the right and flings it open, careful to make the least amount of noise possible.
The little white room is empty.
Jumoke twists the lock off the first door on the left and pulls it open. A woman lies on the bed, unresponsive to the noise around her. Seeck follows him into the room providing backup. I prowl to the third door on the right, breaking formation because of my demanding instincts.
Grabbing the lock in my right hand, I yank it loose. With an urgent, impatient movement, I swing the door open too hard and it almost clangs on the wall before I catch it. Off balance in my attempt to stop the door from giving our position away, I'm not expecting the direct hit to my stomach.
The stool almost sends me toppling on my ass, but I shuffle my feet and stop my descent. Snatching the offending seat from the air, I can't stop the growl that bursts from my throat.
Then her scent hits me. Beautiful. Tasty. Salty and sweet, yet wrong. A purr escapes me, and I realize my eyes are closed.
Opening them in a rush, I take in her room. Tiny and white, a copy of the first room we saw, I almost can't find her despite the lack of hiding places. The white gown covers her from neck to knee, but her skin isn't much darker. In fact, if it weren't for the silver in her hair, I could have overlooked her.
My eyes meet hers, but the animal staring back at me has no logical thought. She's running on fear and natural protective instincts.
I catch a whiff of male pheromones rising from her bed and my vision turns red.
Before I can pull back the beast inside me, I stalk toward her, flinging the stool to the side and growling. Her pupils dilate, and the color of her irises shock me. How could I have overlooked such a splendid green?
She dips down, acting as though she intends to hide under the little table bolted to the floor. With a menacing growl I grab my prey, catching her around the waist and capturing her arms to her sides.
I bury my nose where her neck meets her shoulder and fill my nostrils with her scent. The power of it punches into my soul, and the thread between us strengthens. Even with the change, she can't fight her urges to protect herself. I realize she's too worked up from whatever has already happened to her to calm down in an Alpha's presence. She won't let me in, won't recognize that I'm her lifemate.
Pride and terror war within me, right along with pleasure. I purr, intoxicated with her scent, loving the feel of her feminine body against mine.
She isn't as small as most omegas are, and her height has her less than half a head shorter than me. I don't have to bend far to open my mouth and fill it with her neck.
She stills as I assert my dominance, the wild beast inside me demanding I tame my omega. The logical side of me demands that I stop but having her here in my arms is too much. I grind my hard cock into her lower abdomen, loving how sturdy and soft she is.
She growls.
My omega just growled at me.
She's no longer fighting, instead she stands rigid in my arms, and I feel the cage encapsulating her mind.
She's locked me out, and she's growling at me.
I grab her silver hair, reveling in its softness, and yank her face up to mine.
"You are mine."
Still, the eyes looking up at me shine with a feral anger, no trace of understanding in them.
Her lip lifts in a snarl, snapping me out of my lust-craze.
Hardening my heart, I use my left hand to open my belt. Hearing the clasp come undone, wariness and fear enter her eyes.
Flicking the end free of the buckle, I unwrap a loop and flick my wrist. As my belt unravels, confusion pierces her anger.
Without a word, I wrap the thin rope around her wrist, not needing my eyes to secure it. Holding her arms to her sides with my right arm, I weave the rope around itself, and within ten seconds her hand is immobile.
I fill my lungs with her scent before she realizes what I've done, then I step back and let go of her arms. By the time she realizes that her hands are caged with rope, I've finished restraining the other. I left about six inches of slack between her wrists, in case she needs to break her fall or something, but she has zero use of her hands. I've created clubs where her digits used to reside.
Taking no pleasure in my actions, I link the rope around her elbows, fastening them to the creases with enough space between so she can raise and lower them, but not flail about.
I'll cavemen carry her over my shoulder if I must, but if we're going to have multiple people to extract, I need her on her own two feet.
I step into her space again, trapping her arms between us, and grab her chin with my left hand. She tries to back away, but when my grip on the rope stops her, she snaps her teeth at me.
Her feminine growl tests my resolve.
Squeezing the outside of her cheeks so she can't bite down on me, I lean forward and capture her earlobe with my teeth.
A deep growl reverberates from my chest, full of menace and desire. A lesser Alpha would have mounted her already.
Pressing flush against her, holding her ear hostage with my teeth and controlling her face with my fingers, my right hand grabs her hip.
She jerks away from my touch, but the movement only rubs her body against mine. The telltale scent of slick wafts up, and I fill my hand with her ass, unable to fight the urge to grind my hard cock into her.
Her body responds, but her mind still hides away. She's using her anger and fear as an effective shield.
Unhappiness and frustration grinds into my heart. I release her glorious ass, snatching the rope again, but keep hold of her ear and face.
Breathing heavily, we stand there, both of our hackles raised and neither willing to relent.
She must come with me. Now.
I tighten my jaw and force my growl into her form. If I can't break through her mental defenses now, then I'll have to wait until we get to safety.
Pinching her earlobe until she yelps, I tug the rope behind my back, forcing her wrists forward so she's off balance. I lean into her and make her tilt backward until she relies on me to stay upright.
I don't draw blood, but I come close, the need to taste her almost overwhelming.
When she stops snarling and quits fighting, I open my mouth and lick the indents I've made on her earlobe. Movement from behind me breaks my attention.
I whip around, shoving her behind me and ready for battle. Seeck stands in the doorway, a figure draped over his shoulder. He tilts his head down the hallway, and I curse my lack of control.
I nod, my head back in the game. Turning to my omega, I lift the rope in my hand until her wrists are even with her eyes.
"You will come with me," I command, refusing to growl or purr.
The feral anger that was pulsing from her is muted, confusion marring her brow. She doesn't know what to make of my strange actions.
Her feet follow behind me, the combination of the restraints and my order forcing her actions.
I grit my teeth and hide the hurt in my heart. This isn't a joyous meeting. It doesn't feel like a rescue.
The black cloud of premonition expands behind my breastbone. With more force than I intend, I yank her forward and join my teammates in the hall.
Seeck follows Vander into the room across the way while Jumoke tails Dirk out of the next cell over.
Dirk also has a body draped over his shoulder, but unlike Seeck's, this person wriggles and fights. That must be the woman that was screaming when we arrived.
Dirk busts the lock on the fifth door and swings it open. His speed and intensity show his desperate need to find his omega. With a quick glance at the empty room, he sprints to the last one on this side of the hall.
Keeping my omega close, I track behind Seeck as Vander opens the fourth door on the left side. A body lies prone on the mattress, but the smell of death permeates the air. Vander pauses in the doorway, sniffing. He shakes his head and moves to the fifth door.
Snapping the lock and opening the door, he checks for occupants. A figure lays huddled on the bare mattress, and it seems as though they're curled up in the fetal position.
When Vander steps into the room, the head swivels and reptilian eyes loom back at us. The dim lighting reflects a chilling coldness in the orbs, and the empty expression reveals a lack of intelligence.
Instead of sitting up like a human would, the creature unravels, a terrifying mix of human and snake features mashed together. It cocks its head, then hisses in warning.
It's every movement is laced with pain, the agony rising off it in waves. All its ever known is pain, terror, and more pain.
Vander throws his knife, ending its suffering. Another blade quickly follows, finishing the severing of the head from the body. Vander strides over, retrieves his weapons, wipes them clean on the sheet, then exits the room.
Disgust at the terrible wrongness of what we found threatens to distract me, but I use my training to lock it away. I focus on the mission and stay on Seeck's heels as Vander prowls to the last door.
My Omega begins to shake hard enough to vibrate the lead in my grasp. When I turn my head to look at her, she sneers at me despite her terror.
My lips purse with my effort to not retaliate, and it hurts to turn away from her. My soul clambers to mingle with hers.
Dirk and Jumoke stomp out of the last room on the right side, no new omegas in tow. Vander yanks the lock off the final door as Dirk stalks across the corridor. He crowds Vander, wrenching the door out of his grip in impatience and ripping it from its hinges.
Sitting cross-legged on top of the table, an Omega peers back at us, utter boredom clear on her face. Her darker skin makes her features difficult to see in the low lighting, but our eyesight is keen.
Her coloring is lighter than mine, but only because I'm still tanned from our last mission.
For a moment, no one moves.
Then a glint of mischief sparks in the Omega's eyes and she unfolds her legs.
"One, two, three, four, five!" She points at a different male with each number. "Oh, bloody brilliant! This'll be fun!" she says, hopping off the table.
Her next move is so unexpected that Vander doesn't react in time.
The sharp little sliver of metal she flings pierces between the pointer and middle knobs of his left knuckle. He hisses in pain and yanks it out as he curses.
"We're here to take you to safety," Seeck says.
She throws her head back and laughs.
Vander stands in the doorway, not approaching her but also not allowing her to escape. Dirk hovers behind him, but I feel his attention wavering.
Shit, he can sense his Omega. She's in this facility, but not nearby.
How did I not sense her before?
I track his point of attention, splitting my focus between the chaos around me and the source of his misery.
She's deeper in the tunnels, but not where there should be any rooms. Jumoke's blueprint was incomplete.
As the woman's laughter bounces off the walls, Vander tenses as though he's been shot.
"Well then, lead me to 'safety', you big, strong Alphas." She does air quotes around the word safety, her mirth strange and demeaning.
Her strides are full of power and grace, the confidence in her posture shocking.
Vander stands as still as stone as she sidles up to him.
In a gown that's identical to the other Omega's, she looks the part, but she's nothing like the rest. This is not a woman mistreated or traumatized.
She's deadly and bored.
A hairs breadth away from touching Vander, she trains her eyes on Seeck.
"You may be here to rescue me, carrot top, but there's one flaw with that plan." She turns her attention up to Vander and her grin turns wicked. "You aren't here to save me, are you, old man? No, you're here to claim me." She leans closer and inhales, humming in rapture as she exhales.
Before Vander, Dirk, or Seeck can react, she slips past them and darts down the hall. Jumoke lunges for her but misses. I stick my foot out and catch her toes as she sprints by.
She tucks in midair, rolling through the impact as though she expected for me to trip her.
"Well, boys? Keep up!" her flirty tone doesn't match the situation, but she continues running in the direction of the escape hatch.
I glance toward my teammates, looking past my omega's silvery hair to see their reactions.
Vander stands unmoving in the doorway, his feet in the same position they were when she began walking toward him, his torso twisted as he looks over his shoulder at the omega jaunting away from us. The shock plastered on his face shows how flabbergasted his mind has become.
A connection wavers between them, but it wasn't there a few moments ago. The sound of footsteps coming from deeper in the facility breaks the moment.
"Go, now. Exit strategy," Vander snaps.
Frustration emanates from Dirk, and the mutinous expression on his face makes me fear for the safety of our rescues.
If he goes charging down into the snake pit, the omega over his shoulder won't survive. Jumoke and Vander will chase after him, while Seeck and I extract the omegas we found.
A tense moment passes, then Dirk stomps after the odd omega. He speeds down the passageway, leaving the rest of us to dart after him.
When the rope pulls tight in my fist, I realize my omega can't keep up. Not giving her a chance to balk, I turn and snatch her feet out from under her. Her squeak and snarl are hard to ignore, but I push the urge to correct her away.
"Be still," I growl, and her struggles cease. Between my command for her to come with me and the new addition to not move, her body sits rigid in my arms. Her mental defenses are rock solid, and I must push the desire to test them away.
She's not heavy, but she fills my arms in the best way possible. Having her so close, feeling her weight against my chest, and smelling her wondrous aroma makes it difficult to focus on my surroundings.
Keeping two paces behind Dirk, we sprint back the way we came, the escape hatch our main objective.
Launching up the tilted hallway, I lean forward, shifting my weight with each push up the inclined floor. One feminine hand clutches my bicep, and the feel of direct skin on skin nearly short circuits my brain.
With a hard cock and soft omega stealing my attention, I almost miss the confounding events transpiring above us.
The dark-skinned omega holds up a little object and smirks in glee. Vander curses at the rear of the formation, his sharp words carrying disbelief and anger.
She presses the ignition button on the communicator wristband she stole from Vander, unperturbed when a billow of smoke fills the hall from the little patch on the handle.
Hidden in the smoke until she twists the handle and pushes open the door, our senses ring with her delighted laughter. The wind whips away the sand that had blown onto the door and sucks the smoke out into the desert sky. The stars aren't visible, the wind kicking up so much sand that the night seems blurry.
She scrambles through the exit and Dirk catches the door just before it slams shut. He uses his force to shoulder it open, his muscles taught with the effort. The omega on his shoulder senses his distraction and wiggles in vain.
How the hell did such a little omega lift the heavy door with the added weight of the sand on top?
Dirk flings the hatch all the way open, jumps out, and reaches a hand back to help me up. I snag his wrist and hop into the elements, holding my lifemate close to my chest.
I move forward, giving Seeck space to pop out of the darkness, the form on his shoulder making his silhouette look like a misshapen monster. Jumoke vaults out, then Vander catapults out of the hole, not accepting Dirk's outstretched arm. He jettisons into the desert, his movements manic. His shoes pump into the sand as his eyes scan the horizon.
"Where the fuck did she go?" he screams.
He continues away from the hatch as though he's forgotten the mission, beelining toward a destination that makes no sense.
Dirk slams the escape hatch closed and we all take off after Vander.
A Sky Flyer lowers into the sandstorm, it's lights off and noise dampener making it look like a dark cloud.
Dirk yells at Vander, yanking his attention back to the main issue at hand. Vander lifts his arm behind him, flipping Dirk off.
With a burst of speed, Jumoke catches up to Dirk and takes the omega from him. Seeck is the first to reach the Sky Flyer, jumping through the small access port opened on the side. His eagerness to return to Nova rules his actions. Jumoke reaches the Sky Flyer and pauses, watching Dirk catch up to Vander.
Fists and feet connect as they grapple, both using the exertion to relay how angry they are. Aggression fills the air surrounding them.
Blood splatters in the sand, but neither seems close to calming.
"Take her, too. They'll get us all killed, and that's my job, dammit," Jumoke snarls.
Without time to decide, I flip my lifemate over my left shoulder and accept the wriggling omega from Jumoke. As he sprints away, I duck through the little opening, squatting low so I don't hit my cargo on the ship.
I power through the maze, going straight to the room we've assigned for our return.
The Sky Flyer is a medium sized deck, one outfitted for the military, but discharged years ago. We'd acquired it three years ago on a mission and stashed it between two major cities located near sector limits. With the amount of metal littering the desert between the sectors, it probably would have remained undetected indefinitely. We had prepped it as a bunker that Command was unaware of. Our secret caches throughout the planet have supplies unavailable to the public.
We knew that starting the engine, and therefore the computer, would alert Command's databases, so Jumoke played around with the system while the rest of us had inventoried what was available.
As we always do with our hidden bunkers, we'd stocked it with enough food and necessities to hide five Alphas away from the world for three weeks. Yet, this one also had leftover things from previous use, as well as extra first aid kits, fuel, and other items we'd stashed away.
Arriving at the designated room, I spot the omega that Seeck had carried laying in the corner bed. Other than the rise and fall of her chest, she doesn't move. The rest of the room is empty, and I hear Seeck greeting Nova in the cockpit.
Standing in the middle of the room, I debate my next move. With both shoulders weighed down with a woman, and one still struggling, I have limited options.
Not knowing the condition of the female fighting her restraints, I flip my lifemate off my shoulder and onto the bunk next to the occupied one. She screams as she falls, but she's cut off when her back hits the bed.
"Stay," I growl, keeping her leash in my grasp.
Tucking the omega's legs to my chest with my forearm, I tie the end of the lead around my left wrist. If my lifemate decides to bolt, she'll only get about five feet before reaching the end of her line.
I look down at her, taking in her beauty. Her hair spreads out on the white sheet, some of it covering her face. Her vibrant green eyes peer through the tangled net, hatred shooting up at me. Her gown is twisted tight against her breasts, and the luscious curves make me want to toss the weight off my shoulder and fall on her. I want that flesh in my mouth. Biting the inside of my lip to distract myself, my growl strengthens as I catch sight of her lower half. Her thighs are exposed, the gown askew because of the way I flipped her off my shoulder. She uses her wrapped hands to push down the edge of her gown, but I catch a glimpse of the silvery hair between her legs.
Snarling in outrage, I gulp in big breaths of air, fighting to do the right thing. Her body responds to my reaction, the scent of her ripening making my battle much more difficult.
The omega over my shoulder reacts too, and the sugary smell so close to my nose snaps me out of my tailspin. Her scent is not the one I want to smell and having it next to my face makes me want to wash out my sinuses.
She doesn't smell sick, but there's only one woman's pheromones I want to fill my lungs with.
Turning to the next bed, I ease the Omega off my shoulder, supporting her shoulders and neck with my arm in case she's injured.
Either Vander or Dirk gagged her, and the reason is obvious. Despite no one being around to save her, and no one wanting to hurt her, she's doing her best to scream. The gag looks like a thin strip of leather around her face, but it's a high-tech piece of gear. It seals her lips closed using benign particles, energized by the movement of her cells. The resulting affect also traps her vocal cords, prohibiting them from vibrating and making noise.
I've had this contraption used on me before. It doesn't hurt and will only cause damage if left on long term—it would take weeks of constant use for it to hurt her.
Her arms are restrained behind her back and her legs are tied at the ankles. The bottom edge of the white gown rests along her lower abdomen, the quick changes and being held over multiple shoulders has made it rise high.
She tucks her knees to her chest and tries to kick me, but I catch her ankles and pin them to the bed.
The rope around my wrist pulls, and I snarl as I imagine my lifemate trying to run away.
Going still under my hands, the Omega in front of me stops fighting. Her eyes roll back, and the scent of slick fills the room. Scrunching my nose at the potent smell, I yank down her gown so she's covered.
My teammates had better get here soon, before I snatch up my Omega and lock us away in my makeshift den.
The itch under my skin and irrational annoyance makes my eye twitch. With the seething black cloud in my chest obscuring the future, I almost miss the signs.
The chaos of the last few weeks has made me ignore the telltale tightening of my spine—my body is preparing for Rut.
This is the last thing we need right now—an obstacle that could destroy our lives if we don't take precautions.
If I'm close to Rut, then so are the rest of my teammates. Within the next two weeks, we'll all be slaves to our base instincts.
It took four or more betas to slake our desires before we broke from Command. We can't go into Rut with Omegas nearby, or we'll mate and mark them, whether or not they are our lifemates.
And claimed omegas don't typically like to share.
We have to get these women someplace safe—somewhere away from us. As soon as possible.

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