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

The rich, heady scent of Ivy’s heat crashes over me like a tidal wave as I step into the infirmary. My nostrils flare, every muscle in my body tensing as that intoxicating aroma floods my senses. Sweet honeysuckle and spice, laced with the musky promise of a fertile omega in full bloom.

It’s like nothing I’ve ever encountered before.

A siren’s call tugging at the most primal instincts lurking in my hindbrain, that ravenous part of me that’s all too aware of her vulnerability. Of the tempting offering her body presents in this state.

I swallow hard, gritting my teeth as the urge to stalk forward and claim her surges through me. To let the beast off its leash and take what every fiber of my alpha nature screams is mine by primal right.

Only sheer force of will keeps me rooted in place, nails biting into my palms as I wrestle that primal hunger back under control.

This is Ivy, my omega.

Not some thirsty bitch in heat to be mounted and rutted until the fire burns itself out.

She deserves more than that. Deserves to be cherished, worshiped in a way none of us twisted fucks are even capable of.

But we’re all she has.

Ivy shifts on the narrow cot, the thin sheet pooling around her waist to reveal the soft curves of her body, slick with sweat. Those fathomless eyes fix on me, the very color of the sea, heavy-lidded and glassy with the fever raging through her.

I’m starting to judge Plague a little less, if that’s the way she looked at him when she begged him to help take the edge off.

Supposedly.

‘Thane,’ she murmurs, the word so breathy it has fresh desire running through me.

I clear my throat, buying a moment to compose myself as I cross to her bedside. ‘How are you feeling?’

A ghost of a smile tugs at those full lips, achingly sensual. ‘I’ve felt better.’

A raspy chuckle escapes me before I can rein it in, the sound edged with a hint of a growl. ‘I’ll bet.’

She regards me through lowered lashes, that shrewd intelligence glinting in her heavy-lidded gaze. ‘Are you here to ream me out about Plague?’

I arch a brow at her choice of words, tamping down the flare of possessive jealousy that threatens to surge up and drown me. ‘No,’ I say gruffly. ‘But I do need to ask you something.’

Ivy tenses, that lithe body coiling like a wire pulled taut. She studies me for a long moment, as if weighing her words. ‘Was I the one who asked him to…?’ she trails off, a flicker of uncertainty ghosting across those delicate features.

I nod once, holding her stare steadily. ‘Yes. Were you?’

She hesitates, worrying that full lower lip between her teeth. Then, so softly I almost miss it, ‘…Yes. Are you going to punish me?’

My brow furrows at the tremor in her voice, the sudden spike of fear souring her scent.

Her gaze snaps to mine with a potent mix of defiance and wariness.

‘Why would I punish you, Ivy?’ I ask gently, reaching out to brush a stray lock from her damp forehead. ‘Your body is your own. You have the right to decide who touches you.’

God, I want it to be me.

She blinks at me, lips parting slightly on a soft exhalation. I can practically see the wheels turning behind those piercing eyes as my words register, as she processes the simple truth of her autonomy that most alphas would deny her.

After a long, charged moment, she seems to shake herself from her reverie. ‘If that’s not why, then…’

I give a low chuckle, shaking my head slowly. ‘No, darlin’. That’s not why I’m here at all.’ Leaning closer, I catch her gaze and hold it, willing her to see the sincerity in my own. ‘The truth is, you’re not safe here like this, Ivy. Not with that convoy due any day now to complete the deal. Your scent…’ I trail off, nostrils flaring again as that maddening aroma washes over me anew.

She flushes, pupils dilating until those aquamarine irises are just thin rings around black pools. ‘My scent?’ she echoes, a tremor in the words.

I nod, swallowing hard. ‘It’s a beacon, little rabbit. Calling every unattached alpha for miles to come sniffing around like dogs in a rut.’ My lips quirk in a wry smile. ‘Present company included.’

To her credit, she doesn’t flinch from my wolfish grin, that proud tilt to her chin never wavering. But I don’t miss the way her throat works in a convulsive swallow, the slight hitch of her breath.

She knows exactly what I’m referring to. What her luscious scent stirs in the most base parts of an alpha’s hindbrain.

‘So,’ she murmurs, holding my stare with an intensity that has my blood thrumming. ‘What’s your solution, then?’

The tip of her tongue darts out to wet those full lips, the innocuous gesture sending a fresh surge of desire coursing through me. I grit my teeth against the sudden urge to lean forward and claim that teasing mouth with mine, to swallow those soft whimpers and breathy cries.

‘You need to choose one of us,’ I rasp, the words emerging as more of a growl than I intended. ‘One of the pack to get you through this heat, to keep the rest of those bastards from sniffing you out.’

Ivy stills, that lithe body going utterly motionless. Even her breathing seems to halt for a few precious seconds as my meaning sinks in.

Then, so softly I almost don’t hear it over the thunderous pounding of my pulse in my ears, ‘You’re going to… let me choose my heatmate?’

I lean back, giving her space as I force myself to nod. ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’

Her gaze darts away, those delicate features pinching in a frown. ‘Because… because you’re alphas,’ she whispers, so low I have to strain to hear her. ‘You take what you want. That’s how it’s always been.’

The anguish in her voice, the raw vulnerability she’s allowing me to glimpse… it’s like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs.

What nightmares lurk in her past, what horrors were visited upon her at the hands of my kind to forge such bone-deep trauma? The thought has fury surging through me, white-hot and caustic.

Reaching out, I cup her cheek in my palm, forcing her to meet my eyes once more. ‘Not this time, Ivy,’ I say, the words edged with the weight of an oath. ‘Not with us.’

She searches my face for a long moment, her gaze seeming to bore straight through to my battered soul. Whatever she finds there seems to reassure her. Her shoulders slump fractionally, the fight bleeding out of her in a slow exhale.

‘But…’ she murmurs, worrying that full lower lip again. ‘Won’t it cause… tension? If I choose one of you over the others?’

I consider her words carefully, tamping down the rumbling growl building in my chest at the mere thought of her choosing one of the others. Of watching one of my brothers claim her, take her to heights of ecstasy that should be mine alone to provide.

Finally, I force myself to meet her stare head-on, unflinching. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say, the words a low rumble of finality. ‘Whatever you decide, we’ll accept it. No arguments, no challenges. You have my word on that.’

Ivy holds my gaze for a few heartbeats longer, that clever mind no doubt weighing every angle, every unspoken implication of my promise. Then, slowly, she gives a small nod.

‘What about…’ She trails off, teeth worrying at her lip again. ‘What about Wraith?’

The name hits me like a physical blow, panic and instinctive rejection surging through me in equal measure.

I can’t have heard her correctly.

Or has she lost her mind?

‘Wraith?’ I echo when I’m able to speak again. I can’t keep the edge of disbelief from my tone.

Ivy nods again, more firmly this time. ‘He saved me when I escaped,’ she murmurs, something achingly vulnerable flickering across those delicate features. ‘Tended to my wounds, kept me alive when the others were hunting me. I… trust him.’

I stare at her for a long moment, utterly dumbstruck. Of all the alphas for her to choose, I never could have anticipated Wraith. My brother, even if it isn’t by blood, the rabid beast even I can barely control most days.

‘Ivy…’ I begin, only to trail off with a shake of my head. How can I explain the gravity of what she’s suggesting, the risk she’d be taking by allowing Wraith to get that close to her?

She can’t understand the level of core-deep darkness that lurks behind that impassive mask, the violence that rages just beneath the surface at all times. The magma flowing hot and deadly beneath stone.

As if reading the doubts flickering across my face, she leans in, hand coming up to brush my arm. ‘The others don’t trust him,’ she murmurs, each word laced with quiet conviction. ‘Do you?’

I open my mouth to deny it immediately, to insist that no, of course I can’t trust him to so much as breathe the same air as her. I love him, I’d die for him, but I know him. He’s a beast, a force of nature that can never be tamed or controlled. God knows I’ve tried. Put my own life, my own people, at risk just for his sake, but her? She’s the one thing I won’t risk. Not even for him.

He’s my brother, but he’s still a monster.

A real monster.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

But the words won’t come. Because as much as it terrifies me, as much as it makes every protective impulse flare white-hot with the need to keep her safe…

I realize I’m insane.

I do trust him.

With her, at least.

Not the version of him that rages through battle with feral abandon, tearing through our enemies in a frenzy of bloodlust and savagery. But the quieter side, the gentler facet he only allows me to glimpse on the rarest of occasions.

The part of him that emerged in those frozen mountains, sheltering Ivy from the harsh elements and shielding her from harm with his own body.

As twisted and utterly destroyed as his psyche may be, there’s still some shred of protectiveness buried deep, some instinctive drive to guard and defend his…

Our omega.

She’s good for him. I haven’t seen this side of him in a long time.

Not ever, really.

The only question is whether I’m willing to entrust my most prized possession to the care of a monster. Even one I love.

But I’m a monster, too, so that makes me a hypocrite.

I search Ivy’s eyes, seeing the flickers of trepidation warring with that unshakable core of resolve that first drew me to her like a moth to the flame. She won’t back down on this, I realize. Not easily.

With a slow exhalation, I force the tension from my shoulders, giving a measured nod. ‘You’re right,’ I murmur, the weight of each word ringing in the stillness between us. ‘The others don’t trust him. But I do.’

Ivy’s brows knit, that clever mind already spinning out the implications of my simple statement. ‘But…?’

I hold her stare steadily, unflinching. ‘But he’s not always… himself,’ I admit roughly. ‘I trust Wraith, just not the thing he becomes when he’s like that. You’ve seen what he’s capable of out there, the violence he’s able to unleash. And that’s with his mind intact.’

She shivers instinctively, a spike of pure, undiluted fear souring that rich, heady scent. But she doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch from the weight of my stare.

‘He’s never been around an omega before,’ I continue, the words like gravel in my throat. ‘Certainly not one in heat, with all those pheromones and instincts raging. I don’t know how he’ll react, how far that feral side of him might take things if he gets a whiff of you like this.’

Ivy’s lips part on a soft exhalation, something vulnerable flickering across those delicate features. ‘Is that what you’re afraid of?’ she breathes, holding my gaze with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs.

It is what I fear most.

But there’s another thing looming in the back of my mind.

I draw in a deep breath, struggling to find the words to explain the tangled knot of emotions churning in my gut. How do I make her understand the complexity of the situation, the delicate balance we’re all teetering on?

‘It’s not just that,’ I finally manage, my voice rougher than I intend. ‘There’s… something else.’

Ivy’s brow furrows, searching my face. ‘What is it, Thane?’ she asks softly, a note of genuine concern in her voice that tugs at something deep inside me.

I run a hand through my hair, frustration building as I grapple with how to articulate my fears. ‘Wraith, he’s… he never lets anyone see his face. Not deliberately. Not even me.’

Her eyes widen slightly, a flicker of understanding dawning, and her gaze softens. ‘I’ve seen scars before, Thane. I have some of my own.’

A harsh bark of laughter escapes me before I can stop it. ‘Scars,’ I echo, shaking my head. ‘God, if only it were that simple.’

I draw in a deep breath, the scent of her heat still clinging to every molecule of air in this cramped infirmary. It’s a constant reminder of what’s at stake here, of the delicate precipice we’re all balanced on.

‘Ivy,’ I begin, my voice low and rough. ‘What Wraith’s been through… it’s beyond anything even you can imagine.’

Her eyes widen, a flicker of shock rippling across her face. But to her credit, she doesn’t flinch away. Just waits, silent and attentive, for me to continue.

‘His throat was torn out,’ I forge on, the words like ash in my mouth. ‘That’s why he can’t speak. It’s scarred over now, but… his face…’ I trail off, struggling to find the words to describe the horrific damage without betraying him. He doesn’t even let me see him. The few times I have weren’t on purpose.

The images are still burned in my memory.

I break off, swallowing hard against the surge of protective fury that wells up. Even after all this time, the flashback of first seeing the extent of his injuries still has rage boiling in my gut.

‘It’s… a lot to take in,’ I mutter. ‘Even for someone who’s seen their share of battle wounds. Because he’s alive, and he shouldn’t be. Not after that.’

She’s quiet for a long moment, her eyes searching my face. ‘But that’s not what you’re really worried about, is it?’ she asks softly.

Perceptive little thing. I can’t help the wry smile that tugs at my lips. ‘No,’ I admit. ‘It’s not.’

Ivy waits, patient and attentive, as I gather my thoughts.

‘I’m not worried you’ll be repulsed,’ I say finally. ‘Not deliberately, anyway. But, Ivy… if his mask slips somehow, it’s going to be a shock. A big one. You won’t be expecting it, and there’s no way in hell he would ever show you unless it were a mistake. I’m afraid…’

I trail off, the words sticking in my throat. How do I explain the delicate balance we’ve struck with Wraith, the constant tightrope walk of keeping him stable and functional?

‘You’re afraid I’ll react badly,’ she finishes for me, hugging herself and looking away. ‘That I’ll be scared of him.’

I nod stiffly. ‘Yeah. And if that happens, if you run… if you scream…’

‘It would devastate him,’ she murmurs, her brow furrowing.

‘Worse,’ I say grimly. ‘It could break him completely. Push him over that razor’s edge he’s always teetering on.’

She looks up at me again, concern clear in that hypnotizing gaze.

Not just concern.

Fear.

Fear for my brother’s sake.

I take a deep breath. ‘He’ll disappear into the wilderness again. I know he will,’ I admit roughly. ‘I can’t lose him like that. He’s my brother, even if not by blood.’

‘I won’t run. Or scream,’ she murmurs. ‘If I can trust you, you can trust me.’

I swallow hard. ‘You should at least take some time,’ I rasp, unable to meet the weight of her stare any longer. ‘Think it over, Ivy. Really consider what you’re asking, what it could mean. I… do ask that you wait, though. For my sake, if nothing else.’

She’s silent for a long time before nodding slightly. ‘Okay.’

When I finally force myself to look at her again, that determined tilt to her chin is back.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe she can handle this.

Why does the air suddenly feel so heavy?

I give a curt nod, pushing off from the cot and turning for the door before I can let the weight of her gratitude shatter the last shreds of my composure. ‘We’ll be right outside if you need anything,’ I toss over my shoulder, the words gruff and clipped.

I feel the weight of her stare boring into my back as I retreat, scalding and intent. Like the first lick of wildfire before the blaze truly takes hold, consuming everything in its path.

Especially me.