Page 23 of Omega on Fire

She settles again without waking, her breathing evening out. I exhale slowly, exchanging a look with Moses who gives me a slight nod of understanding.

"What now?" I ask quietly, voice pitched so only my packmates can hear.

"Now we take care of her," Moses answers simply.

Beaux bares his teeth in what might generously be called a smile. "And kill anyone who tries to take her from us."

I snort. "Real Prince Charming routine you've got going there, Motley."

But secretly, I agree with every word. Something fundamental shifted when we found her, when we saved her. She's ours now, whether she knows it or not. Whether she'll want us or not when she wakes.

And God help anyone who tries to change that.

CHAPTER 10

CHARLOTTE

I'm floating. Drifting on a cloud of something soft and warm. There's a cocoon around me, not suffocating but protective. My body feels heavy and light all at once, like I could sink through the mattress or float to the ceiling.

Scents drift in and out of my awareness. Rich, comforting, and distinctly Alpha. But not threatening. Not like the cell.

Cold concrete against my back. Heavy boots approaching.

I flinch, but another scent wraps around me. Leather and gunmetal with a hint of something woodsy. It settles over me like a weighted blanket, anchoring me to the present. And there's another,summer rain and fresh linen. Then frankincense and myrrh, black pepper, deep and spicy.

Pack. My mind whispers the word before I even know what it means.

Warmth spreads from my chest outward, instinctively responding to these scents. They're talking, these Alphas and a Beta, their deep voices a rumble that vibrates through my bones.

"—worried about the trauma of bonding," one says, voice like gravel over velvet.

The term jolts me, drags me through time and space to?—

The gun. The flash. Blood splattered across my face, hot and metallic. Someone screamed. Was it me?

I thrash against invisible restraints, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wants to escape. My limbs are lead weights, useless against the memories assaulting me.

"Charlotte, you're safe." A voice cuts through the fog. "You're safe now."

But I'm not. I'll never be safe again. The heat, the horrible burning heat is coming for me again. I can feel it crawling under my skin, ready to consume me.

Hands on my body. A needle in my arm. "Let's see how wet you get for me, little Omega."

"No!" I scream or try to. It comes out as a hoarsewhisper. My nails dig into something soft and fleshy and I hear a sharp intake of breath.

"Doc, she's fighting again," someone says, strain evident in their tone. "What do we do?"

"Give her space," a clinical female voice responds. "There are drugs in her system slowly working their way out of her. Her body is confused, traumatized."

I manage to open my eyes, but everything is a blur of colors and shadows. Faces hover above me, concerned expressions swimming in and out of focus.

"Will she—" A pause. "The heat they forced on her?"

The doctor's sigh is heavy with what sounds like pity. "The compounds they used are aggressive. There will be aftershocks, possibly another full heat within the next couple of weeks. It's critical that she feels safe, that she has control. This environment is new to her. She will seek out familiar scents, but her conscious mind needs stability."

I want to tell them I'm right here, that I can hear them discussing me like I'm some broken thing to be fixed. But the words won't come. Only a whimper escapes my throat as another flash of memory hits me.

Darkness. The drip of water somewhere distant. The cold metal chains against my wrists.

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