The soldier’s skin is stretched so tight over his cheekbones that I expect it to crack any moment. The reek of piss stinks up the warehouse. The fool, clearly a beta by the way his shoulders are hunched, has wet himself.
I yawn aloud. The sound of my jaws cracking seems to snap the man into action, for he staggers forward, followed by his partner. They haul a rolled-up carpet between them.
Strings of thread trail from the edges to sweep over the wooden floor. The patchwork on the outside of the carpet is peeling. The fabric seems so innocuous, so unassuming, it’s precisely that which sends all of my instincts on alert.
A sliver of awareness ripples over my skin. Thud, thud, thud, my heartbeat accelerates. The fine hair on my neck rises.
What the bloody hell? I can’t take my gaze off that damn rug. “Unfurl it.”
The edge of impatience in my tone must have signaled the impending flare of temper, for Ethan, my second moves forward—not that the soldiers will dare try anything. The stripes on their vests mark them out as emissaries of the Leader of Scotland, and Kayden doesn’t have the balls to put them up to breaking into my stronghold. I drum my fingers over my chest. Nah! It’s exactly the kind of move, I’d expect that twat to try to pull off.
Adrenaline laces my blood. I curl my fingers into fists.
That piece of shit wants me out of the way so he can take over my position. Well, he and most of those gathered here. Don’t everyone rush all at once. I snicker.
The Scot nearest to me pales.
He expects me to kill him. The body count I’ve left behind in the past year ensures that most fear me. But I might spare these men; for now, and only because it keeps them guessing about when they are going to die. Can't have them getting too comfortable now, eh?
I lean forward on the balls of my feet.
The sudden movement draws a gasp from the beta. He bends and places his side of the rolled-up cloth on the floor. The other man follows.
I take a step forward. Honestly, I don’t show any other outward sign of threat. I don’t even peel back my lips, or speak…well, okay, I glare at the soldier on the right.
With an audible gulp, he turns and scampers down the big hall toward the still open doors. His partner blinks then scoots after him. My gaze is already on the piece of fabric left behind.
“I don’t think it’s wise to open it, General,” Ethan warns.
Since climate change unleashed tsunamis and wrecked Earth’s sublayers thirty years ago, trace metals all but vanished. Electronics can no longer be powered up, and technology collapsed, leaving no means of communicating. The only way to check what’s inside that rug is the old-fashioned way. To open it.
“Consider yourself heard.” I crack my neck from side to side. “You’ve done your duty, Second, so can we get this charade over with?”
Sure, his concern is genuine, and yet it doesn’t sit easily with me.
Not since he betrayed the ex-General, aka my dear departed father, by aiding me in killing the old man.
“Allow me, sir.” Solomon, my third, grabs the open seam of the curled-up mat. He heaves, but it doesn’t budge.
Ethan moves to the other side, and together they tug at it. The cloth unfurls…and flattens out into a pool of turquoise and green.
The illumination from the solitary skylight far above floods over it and the entire rug shimmers.
My pulse races. The breath catches in my throat. My heart hammers and I am sure it’s going to jump out of my ribcage.
The next second, a figure springs up from the carpet and launches itself at me. Head bent, dressed all in black. There’s a blur of movement, and a blade whines through the space.
I slide aside.
The breeze displaced by the stranger shimmers over my neck. A flash of pain cuts through me as the blade nicks my skin.
I thrust out my leg, and the intruder goes sprawling to the floor, only to turn in a move which should have been near impossible.
It calls attention to the lithe lines of the body that is wrapped in that jumpsuit. The figure launches itself back at me, and I bend my knees and throw the intruder over my shoulder.
There’s a thump, then the sword skitters across the wooden floor.
I swivel around and close the distance to where the infiltrator leaps up from the center of the carpet.
The colors fade, the room shrinks around me. My vision narrows in on the face, to where the dark cloth has unraveled from around the head of the newcomer. Eyes of shattered green blaze at me.
The hair on my nape rises.
It’s her, the woman from my dreams.
A strand of dark-red hair slinks free.
The scent of rain on cool dawn air bleeds through the space, interlaced with that sugary essence of slickness.
Blood rushes to my groin.
Every instinct inside me goes on alert. “Omega,” I rasp.
2
Lucy
I lift my chin, then farther up, then all the way up, to meet his gaze. To call the General massive is an understatement. He is a monster. A man-mountain, the biggest, most powerful alpha I have ever seen.
His blue eyes blaze at me.
A ripple of fear mixed with something else—lust? Anticipation? —tightens my stomach.
His face is all hard planes and dark angles. Long black hair flows to his shoulders. His lower lip is full, obscenely so. It should soften his looks; instead, it only heightens the sense of danger that clings to him like a rich coat.
It’s the exact opposite of the faded vest that embraces his torso.
His clothes strike a jarring note in the middle of the most prosperous pocket of this city, which is where we are, but it suits this alpha. Declares exactly what he is: an asshole who doesn’t give a damn about anyone else.
Who takes pleasure in surprising his friends and outwitting his enemies—no, he doesn’t have friends…doesn’t need friends…or lovers or… How would he be as a lover? A dominant? A male who’d take without mercy? That feminine, omega core of me quivers in anticipation.
A pulse flares to life between my thighs.
An age-old instinct deep inside awakes…and insists this alpha will pleasure me. He’ll bite me, lick me, suck me…and a piercing wave of desire twists my stomach.
Heat flushes my skin, and yet I feel cold, so cold.
I try to take a step forward, but my feet feel weighed down.
The alpha thrusts out his chest, and the force of his dominance crashes over me.
My breath catches.
I can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t do anything but stare at his face, drink in his features. Open my heart and absorb every last particle of impact that his sheer charisma has on me.
I want to trace that long, hooked nose of his. To close the distance between us and bite his square, pronounced jaw. Lick it, nibble on it, then pull his head down between my thighs until his hard whiskers rub across my sensitive core.
Heat floods my skin.
My nipples tighten.
I don’t need to look down at my breasts to know they’re thrusting out, their sharp edges a palpable outline against the material.
He must know the effect he has on me, for the strong cords of his throat ripple. His sculpted chest seems to widen as he straightens and plants his arms on his trim hips. His powerful shoulders block out the sight of the room. His entire presence sucks up the air in the space. The strength of his personality is a visceral force that crashes into me and threatens to overpower me. I want to reach for the throbbing space between my legs and relieve the pressure that is building in my womb. What is happening to me?