Page 2 of Dark Goodbye

Though I’m not sure where I’m going, it’s somewhere different, somewhere that smells clean. Perhaps this is the final journey before I can cross over. An odd peace descends on my body as I’m laid out on the softest of beds. Eronoiac, the ferryman of the dead, must not be too far now.

I never thought I’d long for death. It was never in my plans before. I was never one of those morose omegas that walked about in mourning clothes, just waiting for my chance. I had so much to live for, so much I wanted to experience. But perhaps it’s best this way.

As my eyes race back and forth beneath my closed lids, I allow another tear to gather and slide down. Though death, at this point feels preferable, there is a small part that mourns what I’m leaving behind.

I should be going into heat soon, and with it, the possibility of becoming a mated omega with a beta of my choosing. Perhaps children if Ilaria blesses. But now, I’ll be nothing more than a memory, a shadow, existing for a brief time and then snuffed out.

Though I had no plans once I entered the commune, I always dreamed of making a difference somehow. It didn’t matter how, but now I’ll never know what it’s like to be of service. One stupid mistake and all my potential flittered away like delicate wingwinds fluttering from flower to flower.

Oh to be free like that. To float on the breeze, going wherever it takes me. Instead, my body is leaden, heavy, and incapable of moving. As my mind fractures, separating within me, I allow one more tear to fall.

* * *

A loud beeping sound cuts into the fog that laces my brain. It’s that same cadence as the godsforsaken plinking sound, but this time, it’s far harsher, strident even. Has the Council of the Dead seen fit to send me to Arnakas due to my crimes?

Unbidden, more tears gather at the corners of my eyes. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Turning my head, I rest my cheek against the cool pillow and open my eyes. Unless eternal damnation looks like a hospital, the truth of the matter is I’m not dead, probably not even close.

Groaning, I turn to the other side and stare at the monitor that’s making that sound and glare at it, wishing for just a moment’s peace. I go to move, to see if I can somehow silence the machine or at least soften the sound, but I can’t. Though I jerk and tug as hard as I can, my limbs lie there, immobile.

My eyes flit toward my right arm, and my pulse quickens as I stare at the cuffs chaining me to the bed. The beeps from the machine also spike, sounding loud and grating to my ears. My arms and legs strain at the restraints, but it’s no use. Nothing I do makes them release.

Frantic, I look about, seeking out the strange Alpha that brought me here, but it’s just me. I’m alone. Again. My breaths come in rapid inhalations as my mind buzzes at the speed of light. Is this my new prison cell? Have I truly been so horrible of a prisoner that they’re choosing to restrain me?

“Please,” I croak in the silence, my voice hoarse and raw, as if I’ve been screaming. “Please. I’ll eat the food. I’ll do anything. I’ll-I’ll obey.”

Since the moment I rebelled and fled from Stanlion as a youth, I was never disobedient. I behaved as well as I knew how, always following the Clan Mother’s edicts as gospel. One mistake. One simple, stupid mistake, and now I’m not even allowed the dignity of moving.

Dragging a deep breath into my lungs, my heart stops as terror winds its way around my spine. A familiar scent permeates my brain, one that wasn’t there before. Or did I just miss it somehow? Amongst the scents of the medicine, chemicals, and the others that work here, a familiar smell teases my nose, stirring up memories I had long since repressed.

Even though I can smell the other Alphas that have come and gone out of this room, this one stands out above the rest, calling to me in a way that it shouldn’t. Davix. A name I haven’t thought about since the day I put Stanlion behind me. But how is it here? How can I smell him? Would the gods really be so cruel as to bring us together after the way I left?

No doubt it’s just a figment of my imagination, the worst possible scenario playing out in my head like a nightmare I can’t wake up from. Digging my nails into my palm, I wait for the tell-tale pain, the one to tell me if I’m dreaming or not, but it never comes.

It’s a dull buzz against my skin, the very whisper of discomfort without the sharp, jagged edges. I am dreaming. I have to be. A soft shuffling grabs my attention, and I look over at the corner where a massive man walks toward the bed.

Every time I blink, his face changes, morphs, turning into the young Alpha that held me, wiped away my tears, and kissed the scrapes and cuts that came with being a rambunctious child. With the next blink, he is the stranger that dragged me from the cell earlier. Green eyes clash with the memory of light blue with flecks of gold.

It’s not him. It’s not Davix. Should I be grateful? Should I cry out for the one Alpha that might actually be able to save me? Bitter tears burn my eyes as I push that thought back into my brain. No doubt Davix is already mated, and if he isn’t, he certainly wouldn’t want to help me.

I shake my head, forcing my brain to dispel the image that threatens to superimpose onto the man stalking closer. A scent permeates the air — all masculine aggression. Is it from Davix or this stranger? The scents intermingle until I cannot tell one from the other. With each step this stranger takes toward me, the smell of Davix dissipates.

It’s been so long since I’ve held the scent of my first crush in my nose that I can no longer say with any certainty if Davix’s scent was always so overbearing or if it’s all coming from this man, but either way, I despise it. I loathe the way it churns my insides. At the commune, I was no longer prey. I was equal with everyone there. But here, back in Stanlion, I can feel this Alpha’s insistent presence as he pushes his way forward.

“Ahh. You’re awake.”

CHAPTER 2

Ladria

I jerk my head to the side, not wishing to acknowledge him. A phantom voice from long ago teases at my memories, echoing the same words. White, sterile walls turn to fields of grass as the memory morphs into reality. Davix sat there, his calm demeanor allowing me a modicum of rest as I hid away from my parents.

‘You’re awake.’ I didn’t imagine it. He said it. He had to. If not, then what memory am I accessing? The scent memory becomes stronger as Davix leans in, his lips a hair’s breadth from mine. But he doesn’t kiss me. He never kisses me. Why did he never kiss me?

How old were we then? I was fifteen when I fled Stanlion which meant he was twenty-five at the most. No doubt the age kept him in check. That or the desire was one-sided with me as the potential pursuer. The memory blurs as my mind stretches back to all those years ago. As an omega, I was biologically driven to want him, to desire him. He knew this. He had to.

How many times did I watch him scent the air, his pupils dilating as he strode over to me? But then, he’d just turn and walk away, his hands clenched by his side, as if fighting a battle I couldn’t see. Was it really so wrong? I knew of very old Alphas mating omegas the moment they turned eighteen. Was nine or ten years so very different?

I didn’t feel different. Even as a child, I felt very much like an adult, one with the weight of the world on her shoulders. But perhaps it was for the best. If Davix ever acted on those unspoken desires, I wouldn’t have had the strength to leave. And I needed to.