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

The door slams open, jerking me out of my thoughts. I twirl the combat knife I’ve been toying with after sharpening it, irritated by the intrusion.

I’m sure it’s Thane. Always likes us to know where he is by making as much noise as humanly possible. Sees himself as better than Whiskey, but there’s only one difference between the two alphas.

Thane isn’t quite as much of a little bitch.

Sure enough, he storms in, his face like a thundercloud. Something has him riled up. It doesn’t take much.

I take it the meeting with daddy dearest didn’t go well.

Whiskey looks over from where he’s sprawled out on the couch. ‘What’s got your panties in a twist, boss man?’

Thane glares. ‘Pack meeting. Now.’ His alpha command ripples through the room.

I tense, resisting the urge to bristle at being ordered.

Slowly, I slide the knife back into its sheath and stand, bones popping. The others gather around, expectant. All except for Wraith, who stays in the back, leaning against the wall in stony silence with his eyes glinting above the gas mask perpetually strapped to the lower half of his face.

Was it deliberately designed to resemble a muzzle?

Not much in this world unsettles me, but that fucker does the job.

And it’s not just his freakishly huge stature, either. Those ice blue eyes peeking through his choppy black hair are the only thing about the silent behemoth that suggests there’s anything going on upstairs. They’re cold and calculating, but when he has one of his ‘episodes,’ they turn almost black with rage.

We’re all huge, even for alphas, but he’s a musclebound Frankenstein’s monster gone wrong.

And that’s generous, considering the state of oblivion I know the lower half of his face to be beneath that gas mask. All sharp teeth and bone and sinew. How he’s even alive, I don’t know. I’d say it’s a miracle, but that’s ironic when it comes to a guy who looks like a demon fresh out of hell.

Thane paces like a caged lion. ‘I met with my father. He’s sending us an omega.’

Shock punches me in the gut. An omega? Here? Has the old coot gone insane? We’d tear her apart.

Or is he joking?

No, this is Thane we’re talking about. The guy has the sense of humor of an anhedonic school marm.

Whiskey shoots upright, eyes wide like a kid on Christmas morning. ‘Holy shit, really?’ He grins lecherously. ‘What’s she look like? She hot?’

‘I don’t know and it doesn’t matter,’ Thane snaps.

The room erupts into chaos.

‘When do we get her?’

‘This is absurd. We’ll break her in a day!’

I remain as silent as Wraith, mind racing. I have to admit, the possibilities send a dark thrill through me. It’s been so long since I tasted an omega.

But Plague is right. She wouldn’t last.

Not with us. Not with me.

Omegas are rare. Fragile. She will be nothing more than meat thrown to a pack of ravenous wolves, and she’ll probably last even less time.

Whiskey, on the other hand, is practically vibrating with excitement. The only brain he’s packing is hanging between his legs.Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

‘The creepy bird has a point,’ I say, at odds with the darker impulses that make me want to spring at the idea. ‘This is not exactly an environment that’s…. shall we say… conducive to an omega’s well-being.”

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Thane grunts in a way that makes me think he’s made the same argument recently to no avail. ‘The Council has decided we need a ‘moderating force.”

‘Sounds good to me,’ Whiskey chimes in, his arms behind his head as he kicks his boots up on the sofa near where Plague is sitting. ‘I’ll moderate that tight little hole all night long.’

Plague shoves his feet off so hard, Whiskey nearly topples off the couch.

‘Hey!’ Whiskey cries indignantly.

‘It is an… intriguing prospect,’ Plague remarks, but I can see right through the indifferent routine. He likes to act fancy, but when you take off the mask and get down below the surface, he’s every bit as much of a twisted fuck as the rest of us. Perhaps more than most. ‘If an inadvisable one.’

‘It doesn’t matter what’s advisable,’ Thane cuts in. ‘The Council has decided we’re too erratic on our own and we need an omega to calm us down.’

It’s clear from the bite in his tone just what he thinks of that idea.

‘Wonder what gave them that impression,’ Whiskey says, casting a pointed glance in Wraith’s direction.

When the massive alpha’s ice blue eyes flick up, Whiskey shrinks back a little. It’s hard to tell if Wraith is even listening in his thorny silence. I’m usually pretty good at reading people—being a serial killer and a formally diagnosed psychopath comes with certain benefits—but he’s a stone wall.

And that’s probably why I hate him so fucking much.

‘I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have some eye candy around here,’ I say in an attempt to prevent another meltdown. When I’m playing peacemaker, it’s a testament to just how fucked up the situation is.

‘That’s what I’m talkin’ about!’ Whiskey says with a triumphant fist pump that immediately makes me regret siding with him.

‘Who is this omega?’ Plague asks.

So much for his indifference.

The look on Thane’s face says it all. ‘She’s… a reject from the Refinement Center,’ he mutters.

‘A reject?’ Whiskey echoes, wrinkling his nose. ‘The fuck does that mean?’

‘She probably has an extra eye or something,’ I say flatly.

‘Fuck that, as long as she’s got a tight pussy, I’m down,’ Whiskey says without missing a beat.

He’s desperate enough I’m starting to worry the couch cushions aren’t safe. Not that the rest of us are getting any more action up here in the middle of fucking nowhere. Fucking the servants is strictly off limits. They’re all male, anyway.

Thane rolls his eyes. ‘From what I understand, she… bites.’

‘Bites?’ Plague echoes, tilting his head.

Of course the germophobe would stick on that.

‘Kinky,’ Whiskey muses, rubbing his hands together. ‘I can work with that.’

‘So we don’t even get to pick one out?’ I ask.

‘No,’ Thane says, giving me a stern look that might work on the little toy soldiers he used to command before he went apeshit on his commanding officer and tore his spine out of his body. ‘This isn’t a fucking shopping trip, this is something the Council is forcing on us. And for all we know, she could be working for them. So I want everyone on their best behavior when I bring her back here tomorrow morning.’

‘Great,’ I mutter. ‘That’s just what we need. A narc living in our midst.’

“A narc that bites,’ Plague adds flatly.

I snort.

Thane gives us both a withering stare and looks around. ‘In the meantime, someone fucking clean up. This place looks like a bomb went off.’

‘I’m not touching anything that’s had Whiskey’s dirty laundry on it,’ Plague says pointedly, standing from the couch to follow him out of the room. ‘I gave up on picking up after you Neanderthals ages ago.’

‘Not it!’ Whiskey calls, running after them even though he’s the one who left ninety-nine percent of the mess littered around the common area.

I turn to Wraith, realizing I’m alone in the room with him now. He just gives me that intense, blank stare.

‘Right,’ I mutter, pushing up off the couch. ‘Guess I’ll get a mop, then.’

Considering the state of this place, a bonfire might be more effective.