Feral Omega: A Dark Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance (Ghost Alpha Unit Book 1)

The berries stain my fingers purple as I pluck them from the bush, shoving handfuls into my mouth. Juice dribbles down my chin. I don’t care. It’s been days since I had a proper meal.

I’m back outside the camp, the one place that’s ever been home. The one place I’ve ever felt free.

A twig snaps behind me. I whirl around, heart pounding.

Figures in dark green uniforms move through the trees—soldiers, heading straight for the camp. For a frozen second, I can’t breathe. Then I’m running, feet flying over the forest floor. Branches whip my face and tear at my hair but I don’t slow down.

Shouts ring out. Heavy boots crunch over leaves. They’ve spotted me. I swerve and leap over a fallen log. A hand grabs my arm and yanks me back. I thrash wildly, sinking my teeth into flesh. The soldier curses and backhands me across the face. I taste blood.

I bolt upright, gasping, sweat drenching my thin shift. The warm beige walls of my new room swim into focus.

A dream, just a dream—but also a memory. One that still haunts me years later.

Shaking, I draw my knees up and wrap my arms around them. The scar on my left shoulder throbs, a constant reminder of what I am. What I’ll never escape, no matter how far I run. My omega mark, still there, even if it is buried under layers of scar tissue.

Because that’s all I am in this world. An omega.

Untamed, irreparable, defective.

A wild animal to be captured, broken, bred.

Revulsion rises in my throat like bile.

I think of my mother, her once vibrant eyes dulled by trauma and despair. I’d woken one morning to find her cold and still, an empty pill bottle on the floor of our tent. She couldn’t endure it anymore, the flashbacks, the nightmares, the knowledge of what had been done to her. Of the child bred from violence.

Me.

Hot tears spill down my cheeks. I dash them away angrily. Crying is weakness, and weakness gets you killed.

Or worse.

I force myself to uncurl my body and stand. My reflection in the small mirror on top of the chest of drawers is gaunt and pale. I haven’t seen myself in so long, and I barely recognize the person I’ve become.

There’s a stack of towels on the dresser, and clothes inside the drawers. They’re simple, but they’re not the threadbare rags I wore at the Refinement Center, when I was permitted to wear clothes at all.

Thane was telling the truth about no one entering without my permission. Even the servant he sent last night to bring me food knocked first, but I refused to touch the tray of boiled meat, rice and vegetables. Even if it would have been the first actual meal I’ve eaten in months.

I don’t trust these people. And after starving for so long, save for the food they literally forced down my throat at the Center before I left, I barely even feel it anymore.

What I do feel is the need to take a fucking shower, and even though I’m loathe to venture out of my room, I don’t hear anyone outside and I’m pretty sure I slept later than the others.

I grab a towel and unlock my door, peering into the hall. There’s no sign of anyone, so I venture out carefully, cursing the floorboards as they creak under each step.

The bathroom is at the end of the hall. I creep toward it, ears straining for any sound of movement.

Silence.

I slip inside and lock the door behind me with a soft click. A row of shower stalls lines one tiled wall. Holding my breath, I peek into each one.

All empty.

The tightness in my chest eases a fraction. At the Center, there was no privacy. The betas in charge of us watched, always, their gazes crawling over our exposed skin until you could feel it. Like insects.

I hang my towel on a hook and strip off my sweat-dampened shift. Goosebumps prickle my flesh as I step under the spray. The water flows over me, hot and soothing. Nothing like the icy blasts from the high-pressure hoses at the Center, which left me gasping and shivering and raw.

I tilt my face up, letting the water pour over my closed eyes. Steam billows around me, enveloping me like a cocoon. For a few blissful minutes, I can almost pretend I’m somewhere else.

Somewhere safe.

Reluctantly, I twist the tap off and reach for my towel. As much as I’d like to stay here, the water turning my fingertips pruny, I know I’m pushing my luck.

The servants could come any minute.

So could an alpha.

I dry off quickly and slip on the dress they left. The fabric is soft against my skin, clean and smelling faintly of lavender. Such a contrast to the rough, grimy rags at the Center where I was lucky if I got washed clothes once a week.

Finger-combing my damp hair in a rare act of self-care, I crack open the door and peer out. The coast is clear. I pad barefoot back to my room, the floorboards cool under my soles. But as I turn the corner, I collide with something solid.

Hands grab my upper arms, steadying me. I jerk back, a yelp catching in my throat, my mind flashing to cruel hands pinning me down, forcing me to submit.

But it’s not one of the guards.

I find myself staring into the amber lenses of Plague’s leather mask, his gloved hands loosening slightly on my arms.

I glare up at him, my heart still pounding from the collision. Those tinted lenses bore into me, unreadable. I yank my arms out of his grip, taking a step back.

‘Going somewhere in a hurry?’ His voice is low and smooth, with a hint of amusement that makes my hackles rise.

I refuse to answer him.

He tilts his head, studying me. ‘Settling in alright?’Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

I bare my teeth in a snarl. ‘Fuck off.’

A low chuckle emanates from behind his mask. ‘Feral little thing, aren’t you? No wonder they kept you locked up so long.’

Rage flashes through me, white-hot. I lunge at him, fingers curled like claws. He sidesteps easily, catching my wrists. I thrash, kicking out at his shins, but he doesn’t even flinch.

‘Let go of me,’ I hiss, trying in vain to wrench free.

His cool leather gloves creak as his grip tightens around my wrists. Not enough to hurt, but it’s like fighting against steel bands. Plague may not be as massive as the other Ghosts, but the betas that have tried and failed to hold onto me are nothing in comparison.

‘Relax,’ he says, his tone infuriatingly calm. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I just need to give you a quick exam, make sure you’re in good health.’

I still, my blood running cold. An exam. The words conjure up memories I’ve tried desperately to suppress—cold metal tables, rough hands. Pain and humiliation and the sour reek of arousal.

‘No,’ I whisper, my voice cracking. ‘I won’t let you touch me.’

Plague’s head cocks to the side again, considering. ‘I’m a medic, Ivy. It’s my job to look after the pack’s well-being. That includes you now. And your wounds don’t look like they’re healing properly.’

His emotionless mask tilts down as his gaze rakes over my face and body. I may not be able to see his eyes, but I can feel them. I snarl at him again, pushing against his strong hands before yanking back again, trying to fake him out, trying to get away. He doesn’t relent.

I laugh, harsh and brittle. ‘I’m not part of your pack,’ I snap hoarsely. ‘I’ll never be one of you.’

‘Maybe not yet,’ he agrees, maddeningly unruffled by my venom. ‘But you are under our protection. And that means making sure you’re not ill or injured.’

The panic is rising, clawing at my throat. The walls seem to close in around me. I can’t breathe. Can’t think beyond the need to get away. To hide.

The alpha’s grip gentles, not enough for me to escape, but the bones in my wrists stop creaking. His thumbs rub soothing circles on the insides of my forearms.

The alpha’s touch should make me recoil, but it sends warm tingles down my spine instead and I feel my limbs weakening. A whine claws its way up my throat, but I cut it off just in time. An instinctive omega response to an alpha’s comfort that makes me hate my biology even more than I already do. It’s also one I’ve never encountered before, considering the few alphas I’ve interacted with weren’t interested in comforting me at all.

‘Easy,’ he murmurs. ‘Easy now. I know you’re scared.’ He pauses. ‘Thane said there was an incident. How exactly did you get these bruises?’

When all I do is stare at him, he continues, his voice softening. ‘If they hurt you at that place, you can tell me. I swear on my life, I will never harm you. No one in this pack will.’

I want to believe him, for some reason. Want to let the deep timbre of his voice wash over me, lulling me into a false sense of security. I’m an omega. I crave touch and safety and bonding, even when I know it’s a lie.

But trust is a luxury I can’t afford.

Not now, not ever.

I twist one hand free and rake my nails down the side of his mask, gouging deep furrows in the dark leather. He jerks back, more from surprise than pain, and I take my chance. I wrench out of his loosened hold and run like hell, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood.

I hear him calling after me but I don’t slow down. Can’t slow down. I fly down the stairs, skidding around corners, my damp hair whipping my face.

As I run, one troubling thought occurs to me. Why isn’t he using his bark?

It’s not troubling enough to stick around to ask, though.

The front door looms ahead, my escape. I lunge for the handle, yank it open—and slam into a wall of muscle. I reel back, blinking up into Thane’s startled face. He catches me by the shoulders, his brows drawn together in concern.

‘Ivy? What’s wrong? What happened?’

I shake my head wildly, trying to push past him. But he holds me easily, his hands gentle but implacable. Panic claws at my chest, my lungs seizing. I can’t get enough air. Black spots dance in my vision. I claw uselessly at Thane, too, but my hands are going numb, arms limp.

Dimly, I hear pounding footsteps, Plague’s voice calling my name.

No, no, no!

My knees buckle as adrenaline tilts the world sideways and upside-down. Strong arms catch me before I hit the floor, cradling me against a broad chest. Thane, my foggy brain supplies. He’s saying something, his lips moving, but I can’t make out the words over the roaring in my ears. I hear Plague, too.

I can’t let him catch me.

Can’t let him…

The last thing I see before the darkness takes me is the gleam of Plague’s amber lenses as he appears at the top of the stairs, his hand outstretched.