Page 23 of Unhinged Omega

Of destiny.

He takes a step toward me, the movement surprisingly graceful for something so massive.

Another step.

Another.

Part of me wants to just run toward him. To get it over with. To finally face what's been hunting me all these years. But I'm frozen, caught between flight and surrender.

All I can do is wait.

When he reaches me, his metal claws surprisingly gentle as they close around my arms and his other hand comes up—ahumanhand, though it's still massive enough to wrap around my entire upper arm just the same—I don't resist as he pulls me down into the darkness. The mask begins to crumble, pieces falling away to reveal the horror beneath. Shocking blue eyes boring straight into my soul, exposed bone and muscle, razor-sharp teeth in a face that's more monster than man.

But I don't feel revulsion or even the usual horror from all the other times I've caught a glimpse of him. Only a deep, aching sadness that feels like it's hollowing me out.

His jaws part, and I know what comes next. I've lived this moment a thousand times in my dreams. But knowing doesn't make it hurt any less when those knife-like teeth sink into the crook of my neck.

The pain is excruciating. Not just the physical agony of flesh being torn, but something deeper. Something that resonates in my very soul. His pain becomes my pain, flooding through me like poison, and I want to scream but no sound comes out.

But then...

Something cuts through the nightmare.

A scent that doesn't belong.

Blood.

Not mine, though. This is different. Deep and rich and dangerous, like wine spilled on velvet. Like rust on a blade.

It smells... good.

My eyes snap open to find myself back in my cell, heart racing and skin covered in a cold sweat. The dream clings to me like cobwebs, but that scent...

That scent is real.

I sit up slowly, trying to orient myself in the light that seems blinding in the face of the darkness I just emerged from. The concrete walls feel closer than ever, but at least they're real. Solid. Unlike the endless void of my nightmare.

I'm not alone.

I stare at the alpha looming in my doorway, his blood-red coat a splash of violent color against the drab concrete. His eyes are hidden behind crimson tinted lenses, but I feel his gaze raking over me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle.

His choppy hair is so bone-white, I immediately wonder if he's Vrissian. But the fact that he's here keeps me from holding out any hope this is a rescue mission. Not that anyone from my mother's homeland even knows I exist.

"Who the fuck are you?" I demand, trying to ignore the way his scent fills the small space.

It's... wrong.

All wrong.

With one notable exception, every alpha I've ever met smells revolting to me. Like rotting pine bark or stagnant swamp water or bitter cheap cigar smoke.

But this one... he smells like fresh blood. Like steel and danger and moonless nights.

And worst of all, it's not repulsive.

Not at all.

His lips curve into a smirk, but there's something off about it. Something almost uncertain beneath the swagger as he responds in perfect Vrissian.

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