Page 41 of Shared Omega

“Get your dirty claws off of her, Farlander!”

He is on the verge of attacking again. Two minutes ago, I was fully behind him on that. I assumed that this Alpha meant us both harm. But based on the way that he protectively shielded me from the collapsing rubble, I’m starting to rethink that.

“Dog!” I shout, before another fight erupts. “Stand down!”

Instantly, Dog backs off. Some of the redness goes out of his face, and his muscles relax. He turns toward me, with an almost hurt expression on his face.

“Sloane.” His voice is hoarse from roaring. “What are you doing?”

The other Alpha just looks on in amazement for a moment before he throws his head back and guffaws. His body shakes with laughter, sending up clouds of dust.

Dog’s face reddens again, this time with a combination of anger and embarrassment.

“I can’t believe it,” the other guy snorts. “An Alpha taking orders from an omega? By the Source, now I understand why she calls you Dog.”

Dog stands his ground but doesn’t move to attack as the other Alpha approaches him, getting in his face.

“Watch it,” I snap at the blond Alpha. “If you try anything, I’ll turn Dog loose on you again, just like that.”

“Just say the word,” Dog growls under his breath.

Now it’s the Alpha’s turn to back down. He turns his dusty head, looking back and forth between me and Dog, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Who are you?” he asks at last.

“I’m Sloane,” I answer, “and this is Dog.”

“And my name is Truk,” the Alpha says. “But I mean…”

He looks at my body, and I suddenly become very aware that I am naked. But Truk’s eyes are looking at my feet. He’s looking at my boots—the only thing I’m wearing. He turns toward Dog and looks at his black shorts.

“You are Outsiders,” Truk says. “And yet you are Alpha and omega. How…how did you come to be in this place?”

Dog has calmed considerably, his breathing growing steady again. He has drawn close to me, and he is possessively dusting the debris from my body. The old house groans and creaks around us. A board knocked loose from the fight spontaneously clatters to the floor.

“We can talk,” Dog says to Truk, “but not here. This house is unstable. Let’s go outside.”

Truk nods.

But I’m not ready to go outside just yet.

First, I sift through the rubble and scrounge up my dropped knife, which I slide back into its secret sheath in my boot. Next I find the gun. Even though it is out of ammunition, I want to hang onto it. If nothing else, I can at least use it as a deterrent, although that trick clearly didn’t work very well with Truk.

Once I’ve fetched my gear, I head back toward the stairs.

“Where are you going?” the two Alphas ask in unison, before giving each other a look of annoyance.

“To get the rest of my frigging clothes.”

***

Out in the clearing, the air is warm, and the rays of the mid-morning sun are lighting up the motes of pollen sifting from the swaying branches of the trees and dancing over the tall grass of the clearing, which is rippling like water in the breeze. Somewhere off in the blue shadows of the forest, hidden birds are singing again.

I’m beginning to like that sound.

In fact, I’m beginning to like all of strange new sensations that this place has to offer.

But I remind myself that the city hive is my home—my natural habitat—and if we ever want to make it back there, we have a mission to complete.