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

through the pain of landing, we lash out with quick jabs, causing the scent of our blood to strengthen and mingle with the cloud of aggression around us. His nose leaks crimson while trickles of warmth trail from my right temple and busted lip, but the worst culprit is the slice above my hip. A red patch soaks through my layers of clothes, yet the cut doesn’t hurt as much as my new injuries.

With an unexpected maneuver, Vander’s knee knocks the wind out of me before he shoves me off him.

Prepared to roll to my feet, I snarl as massive boots block my way.

Dirk’s soft yet menacing words hold multiple meanings, warning being the most prevalent.

“Look at her.”

As though pulled by gravity, my eyes turn to her.

Her ashen face and clenched jaw betray her attempts to appear unaffected, the dilation of her pupils showing large black pools of terror.

Yet all I get from our link is the normal vague disconnect.

Her muscles quake so hard her body rattles against the wall behind her back, pain apparent in her thinned lips.

In unison, Vander and I sober, the cloud of aggression and anger retracting as though we’ve inhaled it, leaving nothing but masculine pheromones hanging in the air. The potent smell cannot be helped, but knowing other males’ scents will linger in my den makes me want to rampage.

Except the trembling Omega in the corner looks fit to crumble to pieces, even as her mask settles over her face.

Her pupils stay large, but her lips and jaw lose their tenseness. Still pale, she finally turns her head and meets my gaze.

Tempered though her misery is, it punches me in the gut. Guilt spears through me.

Which makes a wave of anger wash through my emotions, my cells heating in response.

I want to comfort her.

I can’t.

Usually a scuffle with a teammate releases enough testosterone to cool me down.

Not this time. I feel more worked up.

Unable to stand the situation any longer, I push to my feet and stomp from the room, heading back outside.

I’m too volatile to be around people right now.

Chapter Five

Anastasia

Breathe in.

Hold tight to the echoes of wailing, hearty and lively. Use the beautiful sounds of the purest of innocence to temper the acid eating away at my veins, the pheromones present in every inhale too potent to ignore.

Breathe out.

Remember each minute detail, every feature, each bittersweet moment spent together before my inevitable failures arrived. Stroke, pet, and embrace the dried husks protruding from my heart, treating them as I longed to do before my inadequacies caused them to fade away.

Use the pain I’ve been enduring for years to buffer the new agony.

A heavy silence blankets the room, my shaky breaths interrupting what could be quiet so heavy it would seem otherworldly.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The pain in my shoulder pierces across my back and runs down my spine, making every breath a trial. It hammers through my ribs and infects every organ within.

Yet the ache in my abdomen is worse. Weary muscles and hollow bones support foul tissues too afflicted for their current state. Battered, bruised, and ill-used organs pulse and contract, reacting to my surroundings. Tools too sick to realize their attempts at usefulness are futile. Plagued devices too defective to stop trying despite their numerous defeats.

My hips ache, the thick skin along my lower abdomen pulling with every dejected throb of my insides.

Dread writhes in my soul as my lower back pounds in response to my uterus’ heavy tensing, the familiar pain worse than normal.

This cannot happen, yet it was destined to occur.

Biology cannot be denied.

I’ve never been exposed to such potent Alpha pheromones before, for good reason.

I must recover quickly, explain the situation, and accept whatever they decide.

There is no way to undo what has been done.

I will do as I must to survive another day.

And pray I haven’t doomed Jumoke to the worst of fates.

Or ruined the lives of these other healthy individuals.

Chapter Six

Vander

I feel like a heartless asshole, standing here and watching her struggling to her feet without offering to help.

If her words are true, and her scent tells me they are, then I’d be an idiot to tempt fate and move close to her.

The panic she just pulled herself out of, by her own bootstraps, might I add, hadn’t been feigned.

Nor are her signs of pain.

It chafes to hold back my Alpha instincts, the ones demanding I protect and help the weaker dynamic. As awful as her clothes smell, they cannot completely mask the allure of her Omega markers.

I’ve met my lifemate, her spicy scent forever branded in my mind, yet still the urge to conquer this unclaimed, vulnerable Omega pulls at me.

I want to punch Jumoke in the face again, just to relieve a bit more frustration, but I know it would do no good. Seeing this woman’s horrified expression and deep agony at our violent display curbs my urge to chase down Jumoke.

She makes it to her feet, one shoulder tucked tight against her side while her other palm braces her against the wall. Leaning in the corner for a moment, she meets my eyes.

Her breaths, though shallow, even out as I watch her iron will clamp down on her expression of pain.

“I’ll gather everyone in the cockpit,” Dirk’s clenched jaw makes his words sound harsh. Shya clings to the doorjamb, her unease making her tremble as she waits for her lifemate to cross the room. Once he reaches her, he gathers her to his chest, turning them so he’s blocking her from the orange-eyed Omega.

“Dirk, stop,” she squeaks, trying to slide around him so she can see Jumoke’s lifemate.

“Anastasia isn’t bad. She’s good. She helped me.” Her feminine voice shakes, the stress of the last few minutes apparent in every word. Yet, the stern, pleading tone brooks no argument. She will be heard.

“I know, Little One.” Dirk’s massive finger tucks Shya’s golden hair behind her ear.

“I want to help her,” she states, large shimmering pink eyes shining