Page 1 of Wild Omega

Chapter one

O-11

The advantage to being psychotic is you can get away with things other omegas can’t. The orderlies barely even fuss anymore when I stick my hands into their snacks, and throwing chairs usually only earns me eye rolls. Oh, and sometimes a sedative, because they’re bitches. Did I mention I hate needles? Loathe. Despise. Abhor. The only upside is that the stinging injection quiets the mess of voices in my head.

Those voices can get overwhelming, even if they belong to my alphas—the ones who’re coming to get me out of this hellhole of a so-called hospital. Although everyone scoffs at the idea I can hear them.

The cute little button of an omega with glossy brown hair and burn scars down her neck who’s walking toward me doesn’t believe me either. She scans me over and sucks on her bottom lip. “I’m really sorry, O-11. I shouldn’t have said what I did before.”

I cock my head, studying her wide eyes and the rippling raw flesh cascading down her neck. Savage burns from a fire.

“Hmm,” I murmur, thinking back. Last time we spoke, she said no one’s coming to get me, and other mean stuff. I wrinkle up my nose at the memory. “You were wrong. We’re not unwanted and forgotten,” I muse aloud. What happened after that feels a little hazy, which probably means I overreacted, and the nurses went into bitch mode. Again.

She winces. “Yeah, I was wrong. Forgive me?”

Lip service, but I’ll forgive her because she’s harmless. And cute. “Sure.” My gaze slides around the room to the real devils sitting behind their LCD monitors. Two of them keep one eye on me, trying, but failing, to be discreet. Those eyes silently warn me what awaits if I put a foot out of line.

Or tell the truth.

The other omegas can never find out why this place really exists.

“Where’s O-4?” the teenager asks, and I spin around, searching the small group of omegas gathered to socialize.

“She’s not here.” I blink rapidly as my brain works overtime, my heart sinking.

O-4’s been here the longest of all of us, and she’s my favorite. Even if she is sweetly naïve. In fact, all these beautiful women are innocent, floating serenely along life’s ocean waves, unaware of the sharks circling below the water waiting to rip their throats out. Only I know, but no point opening their eyes now, since I can’t help them. Can’t even help myself.

The scarred omega walks up to a staff member we’ve often seen with the missing blonde omega. “Excuse me, where’s O-4?”

The nurse clears her voice, eyes shifting away and then back to us. “Oh, she got adopted.”

Fucking liar. Woman with a powerful scent like O-4? Carved up and fed to dogs, more likely.

“We’re so happy for her.” The nurse glances at me again, silently daring me to contradict her. I can practically hear the squirt of sedative syringes expelling air bubbles all around the room.

“That’s two now,” O-18 muses, tucking brunette locks behind her ear. Her gaze shifts nervously across the reduced group of omega women. She’s clever, so maybe she’ll figure something is up with this bullshit clinic.

But nothing good comes from learning the truth. Peeps who do earn a fast ticket out of here to someplace worse. Only I stay like a revolving door, lying about what I know as I go through the motions, used until I’m dizzy and creaky.

A skeptical look crosses O-18’s face as she turns to study the staff peppered around the room. She might be closer to the truth than is good for her.

“Her pack came for her,” I murmur, letting the chill that rides up my spine blow out into a full shudder. I pull O-18 in for a one-armed hug and beam, shaking off the premonition. “Isn’t that wonderful? Her alphas came to get her!” I tug the clever little omega toward the table where the others deal out the Uno cards, hoping to distract her. “My alphas are coming for me next.”

O-18’s eyes widen in alarm at my words, and she beams with too much enthusiasm. “Yes, they are. Sit next to me, O-11, and tell me about them.” Eager not to send me on a psych out.

It seems my outburst last time traumatized her a little, but shit happens. Especially around here. A trickle of heat runs through my belly, and I clench my muscles in response. She asked about my pack, so I won’t let this opportunity pass by.

“Hmm, I think I might have three in my pack.” That’s how many distinct whispers rattle through my head.

Her brows lift. “A small pack, then?”

“Yes. Not many men out there can handle someone like me.” I flick hair over my shoulder and demand to know why the black-haired omega, O-9, hasn’t dealt me into the game. She rolls her eyes and flips out an extra card pile at the speed of a machine gun.

O-9 is the quiet sort; probably quieter today because she’s missing O-4. They’ve both been here for years and years. With her jet-black hair and hideously long lashes, O-9 seems like the kind of omega who ought to be spoiled like a princess. Instead, she’s stuck in here with a crazy like me. And devils likethem.

The teenager beside me runs fingers self-consciously across her charred shoulder. “I think I’d want a big pack. Lots of interesting things going on, lots of laughter. Never alone.”

What a beautiful pipe dream. I squeeze her hand. “You’ll get it.” Then I slap down a Draw Four on her, and she chokes and flicks my hand away, calling me a bitch. I smirk.

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