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

her knife into my flesh broadcasted across the room.

Nova’s luminescent blue eyes study the tangle of Alphas I’m at the center of, her brows scrunched together as she weighs whatever thoughts she’s gathered. She doesn’t look cowed.

She looks determined.

The three of them look ready to do whatever it takes to get their lifemate out of this tense situation.

No, more than that.

They seem prepared to find a way to include everyone’s happily ever after. They’re ready to battle for their friends’ lives.

I straighten my spine, taking my weight from my surrounding teammates.

Anastasia is right.

We aren’t the only ones affected by this.

Thank fuck they aren’t as selfish as I’ve been.

Chapter Nine

Anastasia

I’ve broken him. His tears prove it.

I shouldn’t have allowed my defenses to slip. Now he’ll never walk away.

He should have run as soon as he saw my failures, yet he has not.

He’s fighting for me.

My lack of experience with Alphas is proving to be detrimental. I thought I understood the influence of an unfinished lifemating bond, but his recent actions demonstrate how little I knew.

To see an Alpha in his prime cry without inhibition was something I never thought I’d see. If I could take the reason for his tears away, I would.

I cannot. I can only try to protect him from further emotional damage and fight to save him from my physical ailment.

They need to decide my fate. Quickly.

My core throbs with heaviness as though Vander’s prediction not only made my heat begin early, but also urged it to increase in severity.

Crouched at Jumoke’s front, Vander still exudes authority. His words ring clear within the charged room.

“We have options, Jumoke. You ready to control yourself?”

Wet tracks still sit on Jumoke’s face, his hands bound by his teammates.

His stormy hazel eyes meet mine as his torn soul reaches toward me.

I accept his stare but deny his attempt to join our hearts.

He swallows before retracting his emotions, the war within shining through the dancing golden flecks in his green irises.

“Get off me.”

After a brief pause full of silent communication, the three males wrapped around Jumoke step back, giving him just enough space to stand on his own.

He shakes his arms by his sides but makes no move to clean his face. Keeping his eyes locked to mine, he rolls his shoulders and takes three distinct steps backwards.

The Alpha with flaming red hair moves in tandem, keeping the same distance between himself and my unstable, unbonded lifemate.

With more yardage between me and him, he plants his huge boots and stands tall, closing his expression as though donning armor.

“Options. I see two plausible options. One, forfeit the Sky-Flyer to Anastasia during her heat. Barricade her in Jumoke’s den with the provisions she’ll need. Set up a perimeter and send an Omega to check on her every day. The rest of us will set up camp further down the coast. Two, send her deep in the mountains. Find her a safe place away from everyone. A lifemated couple would go with her, keeping their distance until her heat ends.”

Disbelief holds my tongue hostage for a moment, Vander’s words nonsensical until I force my brain to process them.

Neither of these options were expected.

“It isn’t safe. The risks are too great.” I must state the obvious, no matter how unpalatable the words are.

“What do you suggest?” Vander asks. His tone holds zero challenge, the calculation in his eyes seeming to move through scenarios much more rapidly than I can process.

Jumoke’s low growl seems to vibrate along the floor, shaking the ground under my feet. Ignoring the warning it possesses, I fight the physical result of his delicious sound. My heavy womb throbs, the tightening in my lower back traveling up my spine and spearing into my injured shoulder.

Pain. An acquaintance I am well accustomed to.

Lust. My body’s reaction troubles me. Despite my experience with suffering through many heats without assistance, this feels different. Never before has the onslaught been so sudden.

As I fight the heaviness in my organs, Jumoke speaks before I get the chance.

“She means for us to send her back. To return her to the facility.”

His deep rumble colors his words with anger and contempt.

A slew of noises ring in my ears, the room’s response freezing my thoughts and halting my heart.

Shya’s outraged gasp. Britani’s angry snarl. Nova’s horrified hiss.

A range of masculine growls.

Panic takes hold, the telltale sensation of cramping accompanied by lubrication sliding along my channel.

“There’s no time. Now. My heat.”

The rumbling filling the room stops as though squashed by an anvil.

Every muscle in the room contracts in startled surprise.

My face feels clammy but fire courses through my veins. My knuckles pop as I tighten my grip, hoping to remain in control for a little while longer.

“Option one it is, then,” the dark-skinned Alpha declares.

Too many potent scents cling to my nostrils, distracting me from the silent network of communication happening in the room.

Even at their apex, my previous heats have never felt this dire. It’s as if my body knows there are virile Alphas nearby, capable of fulfilling my needs far better than I ever could. Their pheromones tempt me in ways I’ve never been tempted, every cell in my body rioting over being denied.

Too overwhelmed to process my surroundings and keep my limbs under control, I do as I always must when confronted with difficulty.

I stroke the husks of broken lives protruding from my heart, soothing the tiny bundles with utmost care. Using the familiar practice to center my mind, I grit my teeth and allow myself to contemplate the panic gnawing at my chest.

As laborious as unsatisfied heats may be, I’ve always preferred them to my Selected Heats. At least suffering through a cycle alone never resulted in another innocent soul’s demise.

The panic stems from the uncertainty of my situation. Too many things could go wrong.

Too many vines could be severed.

Too many dead husks could be added to my heart.

Rolling the panic into a little ball, I shove it into a sheet, wrap it, and