Untouched Omega (Alpha Elite Series Book 4), V.T. Bonds [best books to read for success .txt] 📗

rumble mingles with his murmured words of encouragement as he rocks back and forth, soothing her as best he can.

Seeck, the flame-haired Alpha, wraps his arms around his lifemate, resting her back against his smooth purr. Nova’s pure blue eyes shimmer with unshed tears, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she studies me. She reaches up and grabs her lifemate’s elbows, forcing him to hold her tighter.

My heart squeezes, threatening to crack under the pressure of longing and misery. I locked away my desire for a happily ever after decades ago, but seeing three examples cracks open the hidden box and releases the hunger.

I long to look to Jumoke, but turn my focus inward instead.

A simple glance at my own soul sucks the want away, the overwhelming burden tucking itself neatly into the too-small box and urging me to turn the key.

Despite the lessened emotional load, my limbs feel heavy with fatigue and pain. I keep my spine straight, emulating a statue to the best of my ability.

“What treatments have been attempted?” Jumoke asks, his eyebrow lower than it was a few moments ago.

I suppose I failed to keep my eyes from his, the link between our hearts too enticing to resist, even though I’ve clamped it as closed as I can.

The question makes me pause; the list extensive.

“Every treatment available. All attempts to produce any type of vaccine or cure have failed thus far.”

Collective contemplation continues the quiet moment, Shya’s soft sniffles the only break from the mated males’ purrs.

I accept the pinching in my lower back, lumping the sensation in with the other pain my body endures.

Jumoke leans forward, shifting as though being still is too difficult while he mulls things over.

He flexes his hand, squinting his eyes as he narrows his gaze on my face.

Terror makes my heart leap into my throat, his absent-minded movement reminiscent of someone testing the extent of pain in their limb. His close scrutiny causes a mighty force to slam against my hold on our link.

My spine threatens to crumble under the combined onslaught.

“Your hand. The one you touched me with. It hurts?” I can’t dampen the horrible dread clumping in my chest, tightening my diaphragm and making my words sound frightened.

Golden flecks gleam within the green of his irises, the usually animated orbs abnormally still as he stops his inner musings and truly focuses on me.

My insides tighten, the blast of arousal shooting through my organs clashing with the fear and pain coursing through my body.

“No, Anastasia. You haven’t infected my hand. I’ve just punched an old man a few too many times today.”

Zero relief accompanies his words, the danger still too potent for relaxation. Add in the throbbing of my abdomen and his piercing gaze, and my senses scramble.

My defenses slip, my focus stolen by his vibrancy, and part of me screams as lines appear around his eyes. His sensual lips tighten, highlighting the draining of joy as his expression turns dark.

I snatch at our incomplete bond, knowing I’ve failed, desperate to limit his entry into my soul.

Terrified he’ll misinterpret what he sees. Horrified he’ll mistreat everything I hold dear.

Scared he’ll morph into one of my failures.

Wringing theoretical hands around our connection, I twist until he’s forced to back away and accept my manipulation, restricting his access.

His expression goes from dark to pitch black, the gold specks in his eyes growing as fire rages within him. A tide of epic emotions slams against my hold on our link, the onslaught too sudden and shocking to maintain control of anything besides my grip.

My body jolts backward, my shoe squeaking against the floor in my rush to flee, the wall smacking my back and blasting pain into my shoulder.

Yet I do not relent, my wards too precious to forfeit.

As suddenly as it began, his barrage ceases. It takes a moment for my vision to clear, but I catch the wide-eyed surprise written on his face before his mouth closes and a myriad of thoughts cloud his expression.

Not expecting the underlying sense of tenderness his soul offers mine, I stay pushed against the wall, staring at him as I recover from whole-body pain and all-encompassing panic.

When his jaw flexes as though he’s gritting his teeth, I gather my wits, trying to rise above the pain of my body. As my shoulder eases to a throb and my breath evens, my abdomen clenches. It refuses to relax, contracting as though sustained by external means.

Sounds register, deep, menacing, warning aggression filling the room, four Alphas glaring at the cause of my outburst.

Jumoke’s knuckles turn white as he meets each glare head on, his introspection disrupted by the challenge.

Like my uterus, my heart contracts in dismay as the Alpha fated to be my denied lifemate acts as though he’s never owned an ounce of self-preservation.

Instead of apologizing or explaining my cold actions, he lifts his lip, baring his teeth.

And snarls.

Fighting a wave of disbelief and agony, I clamp my fingers together and struggle to keep upright. I long to drop to the floor and curl into a ball, my reproductive organs unrelenting in their pulsing and cramping.

Breathing through my nose, I force my senses to stay cognizant, knowing too much is at stake to let down my guard.

There’s still more to tell, if the tension in the room doesn’t turn into a massacre.

Chapter Eight

Jumoke

I dare them. They can jump me, here and now, and I’d gladly take their abuse.

I’d defend myself, of course, but also welcome the pain.

Fuck, those few seconds I stole into her soul and glimpsed her most private self has me shaking in my boots. How can someone still be standing when they’ve suffered so much?

I’m angry at myself for losing control and taking out my frustration on her. When she pushed me away and locked me out, instincts demanded I return and expunge her heartache, to do all I can to carry my portion of the burden and lighten her load.

What I saw…

What can I