Page 7 of Her True Alpha
“That explains it, then.” Alreck had only ever seen one omega breeder mate, but he had heard that compared to beta women and drone females, they were all sweet and curvy, with a heavenly pussy made for an alpha’s knot. The king’s transport had a look reminding Alreck too much of the rounded arches of a woman’s hips and thighs.
Not that he needed help remembering. Lately his thoughts chased after female images all day long. The curve of Rachel’s hip, the swell of her belly, and the smell of her in his sheets haunted him. She was a ghost beyond redemption; she’d known from the start what he’d really wanted, and she’d hated him for it.
But not as much as she’d hated herself.
“You can park it around back.” He said to the driver, “You probably have orders on guarding it, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to add some of my guys.”
“We can do that. I feel like we are standing at the bottom of a sniper trap here. You won’t get any argument from me.”
“You ever been here before?” Alreck asked.
“No.” The driver looked around, surveying where they stood.
One of the few buildings with four walls and a roof on this street, the area in front of the tower had an empty space as its courtyard. But it didn’t look nice. The sidewalk pieces were laid out like dirt-caulked tiles in front of patched steps. Cement garden boxes held rubble instead of plants. But it was wide open, with no edges to trip over and no barriers or blind spaces to hide behind. Once a busy city area, the rest of this street was a boneyard of old buildings and other refuse mixed with thorny brambles and wild grass.
“Some of my men are also on the side of the building, waiting for you. Is it okay if two of these lot ride inside, or on the back? How do you do it when you’re in enemy territory?”
“There is a two-man platform in the back.”
At the back of the vehicle, the driver inserted a key, opening a trunk that lifted and slid aside to create space for two men to stand above the bumper. Alreck saw handholds, too. Secured to the sides were guns with wooden grips and sets of red sounders and white smokers.
Those brought back good memories. He’d love to get his hands on some reds, the short-burst alpha deterrent devices used by the king’s army. There was a game senior tops had played against their inferiors during training maneuvers–nothing more satisfying than launching a red sounder at a young dickhead. The ball would hit, activate, and the team would go down, falling like sticks at the noise. Since that nerve-deadening sound always hit those with the greatest power hardest, the biggest dickheads would end up shitting their pants. Earplugs in place, Alreck had laughed and laughed.
The alpha’s second, Nixon, knew how to make white smokers out of bottles or tin cans, but reds required materials they didn’t have. This trip might offer a better alternative, though. If they couldn’t get better weapons directly form the King, Nixon had told him about a drone market down in Sector 10 that had all kinds of shit available. Darre might hate the noise makers, but there was an omega and her future children to protect now.
Breaking his team up, Alreck picked two men to ride in the vehicle and sent half of the remainder to run ahead to ensure no one staged an ill-conceived ambush. Alreck was overly cautious, he knew, but times warranted the need for extra meat shields. He assigned the rest to watch the area around the tower. Things had been uneasy in this sector ever since Darre took a mate. He and Nixon had agreed that keeping men outside and on patrols was a good idea.
“Just go on to the alley. The way is short, and I got men all the way to the garage. Park there and we will load tomorrow. The alpha’s second, Nixon, is waiting for you.”
As one, the men got back in the transport to take it around back.
Tomorrow, Alreck would be riding in the cab with Alpha Darre and his mate, driving to Sector 5 to stay with her family, visit a doctor, and take a meeting with the alpha’s high-powered relatives. It was the last thing in the world Alreck wanted to do. Spending hours in an enclosed space with Naya was the closest he’d come to visiting the torture chamber. Either Darre would kill him, or he’d kill himself just to get some relief. One way or the other, it was going to be its own special slice of hell.
Alreck wished he could take back that first moment he’d greedily inhaled the scent of an omega breeder. Prime. Sweet. Perfection. Her fragrance got into his head and blood, went to his cock and lodged there. The alpha’s mate affected him from the first. She’d started up all kinds of nagging cravings in him. Alreck didn’t want Naya, specifically, but she’d showed him what it could be like to have an omega bond. He wanted that now to the point of obsession; even her fucking mated smell marked his brain, and he couldn’t get it out.
He’d done fine without a female before he’d met her. There had been a great deal of peace in not knowing what he’d been missing. With females scarce in Sector 2 and banned from the tower, Alreck assumed he’d go to his grave without one of his own.
Trying to plug up his craving with a pretty, bruised little fluff of beta female who’d needed saving, he’d asked the alpha for a contract marriage with Rachel, daughter of Corre. Sweet of face, but twisted of mind, the girl had lived a life of abuse. Manipulated by her father into participating in a plan to take over Sector 2, Rachel attempted to kill Darre and his mate. Her best hope for survival had been a contract with Alreck.
He’d done everything he could think of to help her. Nixon had a beta wife-mate. If that bullheaded male could keep a wife and find some happiness, then Alreck knew he could too. Yeah, he’d miss out on the breeder’s blessing, the psychic, soul-deep connection of a bonded mate, and getting his knot squeezed. But he wouldn’t be alone.
At the end of the day, there’d be a woman waiting for him, making him dinner and presenting herself willingly on his bed. They’d laugh and play. He wouldn’t be so fucking lonely every morning. He’d had plans for Rachel and their life together.
But she hadn’t wanted his help. Not understanding the extent of her shattered mind, he’d left her with drones while he went to the tower, underestimating her determination to escape him, to escape living. She left him, left life, taking her unborn child with her, in the most permanent way possible.
She wasn’t omega. But he missed her. Missed the warmth of her body, the curve of her cheek and shy smile when he complimented her. He grieved all the possibilities of what could have been. Willing to do whatever it took to have a woman in his life, Rachel took his last opportunity with her to her grave. All women, even betas, were rare in this sector. He didn’t know when he’d get another chance.
Alreck had asked to hang back from this ride into Sector 5, knowing the close proximity of another woman so soon after the loss would be difficult, but Darre had laughed at him. “Naya wants you to go.”
So Alreck was going.
As he headed back inside the tower, Alreck’s personal shadow, Blade Jordan—a crazy alpha who’d sharpened and silvered his canines—handed him his breather mask. Currently, Alreck was only one of a few men who wore one.
There was no shame in it; Alreck would not fuck around with the insult of a leaky hard-on because of smelling Naya.
“What do you think Alpha will say about the transport?” Jordan asked.
“You know he will hate it. Not only is it a target, but it comes from his brother. I think the omega will like it, though.” If the interior was as nice as the exterior, Naya would love it. Although she didn’t complain, the omega wasn’t shy about her appreciation of nice things.
