Lost Omega

by Noah Harris

  Arulean growled, a deep and resonating sound that seemed to amplify as it echoed around them, growing in intensity as he took a step forward. It rattled Blake down to his bones, shaking his core and urging him to either run or kneel.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” Thoric clicked his tongue, holding up a hand in warning. Arulean froze, eyes narrowing. “My associates are under strict instructions,” he said, turning his hand as if to examine his nails. There was a self satisfied note in his voice that had Blake clenching his teeth and curling his fists. It sounded like triumph. “If I don’t return to the castle, they are to kill your little mate and your son. No hesitation. They didn’t like agreeing to this, of course. They would rather use them as further bait or for experiments themselves. But they agreed. And I wouldn’t push them, if I were you.”

  “What do you want from me?” Each word was forced and hissed out through clenched teeth.

  “What do I want?” Thoric said, voice lilting as if the question amused him, though there was no humor there. “I want your downfall, Arulean Black. I want to see your empire crumble beneath your feet. And then, from your ashes, I will rise.” His eyes finally left the other dragon, flickering over the rest of them. Blake felt a chill down to his core as his eyes passed over them. His roaming gaze only stopped when he spotted the witches, narrowing slightly before returning to Arulean. “Ah, well, that does explain how you found us so quickly. I was hoping to draw out your torture for a while longer.” He waved a hand dismissively. “No matter. It was only a matter of time before you found us. And you didn’t disappoint. So let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

  He smiled, and it sent shivers down Dylan’s spine. There was nothing there but victory and malice.

  “I don’t know what you’re planning,” Thoric continued. “But I suggest you let it drop. If I see an unsolicited move toward us, any sort of aggression, I will kill them. First your son, and then your mate. Understand?” Arulean said nothing, sulfuric rage rolling off him, burning the back of Dylan’s throat. Thoric didn’t flinch. “I have no intention of hurting your followers, but I will if they stand in my way.” He sent a piercing glare toward the rest of them before returning his gaze to Arulean. “You have one day to decide how you’re going to play this. Tomorrow night, you will come to my compound. Alone. And surrender yourself to me. Your family will be kept on a tight leash in case you try anything. I suggest coming quietly if you care for their safety at all.” Then he sneered, tilting his head, mocking and taunting him as his voice lifted into a laugh. “The difference between Lyphnia and me is that despite us both wanting to use your mate for our own ends, she would not have killed her own kin, and I most certainly will not hesitate. You may not enjoy the end of your reign and long life, but if your death can ensure they continue to live, it’s worth it, is it not?”

  Arulean said nothing, barely moving a muscle as he stood there still as a statue, eyes locked on the other dragon.

  Thoric took his silence as confirmation. He nodded once, then took a step backwards, then another. “I look forward to accepting your surrender tomorrow, Arulean. At sunset.”

  He turned then, willingly putting his back to Arulean. It was a show of dominance, intended to show that he didn’t see Arulean as a threat. It was a power play, and it didn’t go unnoticed. They all knew they were helpless at the moment, there was nothing they could do. Thoric walked back to the center of the crater his landing had made and crouched down low. Dylan could feel him gathering his power, energy was being sucked from his surroundings and was rolling off of him all at once, swirling around him just for a moment before he launched himself into the air.

  In a swirl of dark green smoke, like a tornado, moving upwards revealing the large dragon with its green scales as it took to the sky. He circled their camp in another display of mocking power, once, twice, a third time, and then he was shooting off back in the direction from which he had come.

  They watched him go, no one daring to move or speak. They barely dared to breathe. Even as the air cleared of Thoric’s stench, his aura dissipating into the night, letting in a rush of clean, cool wind to sweep through the camp and clear their senses. Even as they visibly relaxed, relief slumping their shoulders and easing out some of the tension that had ridden their adrenaline high. Even as he disappeared from sight, no one dared to move.

  Suddenly, Arulean’s shoulders slumped, dismay clouding around him and sticking to him like a second skin.

  Blake was the first to step forward. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t a full member of the Shadow Pack. Perhaps it was just who he was, unwilling to let the man suffer. Perhaps it was his own impatience to get started. Either way, he was the first to move. He squeezed Dylan’s hand once, waiting for a squeeze in response before he stepped away from him. He walked up to Arulean with caution, but his head was held high.

  He put a hand on the dragon’s shoulder, feeling the taller man jump at the sudden contact. He turned to gaze at him, dark eyes swirling with a storm of emotion, face looking torn and crestfallen.

  Blake forced a small, wry smirk to his lips. “I think it’s time we refined our plan,” he said, squeezing his shoulder in a small show of support. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  10

  They spent most of the night in the meeting tent, gathered around the table with Blake’s equipment, the thin canvas roof and walls giving them some semblance of privacy. It started with everyone crammed into the small space. As the night wore on, they started to cycle out, trickling out to the campfire to get food that had long since gone cold, simply because they had to keep up their strength.

  Eventually, only the leaders remained. They would be the ones leading smaller teams to carry out their plan. Everyone at that point knew the basics of their mission, but the rest remained to go over the minute details, over and over again. They talked about every scenario they could think of and what to do if the eventuality became reality. They talked it over until there was nothing new to say, and then they talked about it some more.

  Dylan had suspicions that they stayed mostly out of nervousness, worry, and sheer anxiety that wouldn’t allow them to sleep. That, and no one wanted to be the one to tell Arulean he needed to rest. The planning, at least, kept him distracted. There was an edge about him that no one liked. Beyond his fire, his rage, his power, and his confidence, there was something that none of them had ever seen on him before, nor ever wanted to. It was so subtle that it was easy to miss, subtle and rare enough that it was easy to simply dismiss it out of the pure idiocy of the notion.

  It was defeat.

  The dragon king looked defeated. Resigned in a way that no one had ever seen him before. The fire was still there, burning bright and hot, ready to take back his family by force and tear out the throat of all those who stood in his way. However, there was a more solemn note behind it. No one said anything, but Dylan knew that they were all aware of it. If their plan failed, if nothing worked, Arulean would ultimately give himself over to Thoric and the witches to save his family an untimely death.

  The more the night wore on, the more apparent that resignation became. As the fire in his gut burned low with exhaustion and bone deep weariness set in, his defeat hung heavier on his shoulders. It pained Dylan to see it, he could no longer look at him. No amount of reassurance could lift that burden.

  The eastern sky was lightening by the time Blake called a forceful end to the meeting.

  He slammed his hands down on the table, startling everyone and cutting off the discussion, which was going over the movements of the different teams for the tenth time. Dylan jumped in his seat a few feet away. They had given him a chair, and for once, he was grateful. Had he not been pregnant, he would have stood the entire night out of stubbornness and the endurance drilled into him through his soldier training. Now, however, his feet and back ached, and he was thankful for the chance to sit.

  He had been nodding off, leaning on a hand with eyelids drooping. His head snapped up at the sound, head whippin
g around to stare at Blake.

  His mate only stared at Arulean as he called an end to the meeting. The dragon frowned, trying to protest, but Blake wasn’t having any of it. He pushed, the others left, staring back in awe at Blake. They were all close friends of Arulean’s, part of his inner circle for years. They had helped him run the Shadow Pack and were his closest confidants, but none of them dared to oppose him. Certainly no one dared to order him around. He was, after all, still a dragon king. At most, their tactics would involve gentle persuasion.

  Blake was blunt, and Dylan knew it was because he needed to be. Blake had always been good at reading situations and people, and adapting to what they needed. And right now, he needed to be stern. So he was. When Arulean tried to protest, he cut him off, meeting his gaze sternly and holding his ground fiercely. Sparks flew, energy crackling while Arulean tried in vain to get him to submit.

  But then he bent. Posture slumping and face crumbling. Arulean’s aura and scent receded, and it took everyone a moment to simply comprehend that it had happened at all.

  Blake took charge from there on in. He assured everyone that they needed their rest. No matter how difficult it might come, some sleep was better than none at all, and they all needed to be on top of their game later on if they wanted to rescue Rajiah and Remi. That, at least, got people moving, no matter how reluctantly.

  So they filtered out of the tent, dispersing to their own. There was a watch already set with patrols up and running, everyone taking shifts of a couple hours each. They didn’t think anyone would try anything during the night, especially given Thoric’s confidence and his set meeting time, but none of them wanted to take any chances.

  Dylan started toward their own tent, but paused when he realized Blake wasn’t beside him. He half turned, quirking a brow at his mate in silence question. Blake still stood beside Arulean. He wasn’t a small man by any means, but the dragon dwarfed him nonetheless. Still, there was something strangely defeated about Arulean’s posture, and Blake’s confidence made him seem bigger. He made eye contact with Dylan and waved him off with a silent gesture.

  Dylan just nodded and turned to go back to their tent, letting the two alphas have whatever privacy they needed.

  He was exhausted as he slipped into the tent. It was just big enough for the two of them to sleep. Their bags of personal belongings were stuffed along the edges, and the rest of it was covered in blankets and sleeping bags. Under normal conditions, Dylan would have done just fine with a sleeping bag. In fact, that was all he had packed for himself. Blake, however, had different ideas. His mate had packed far more blankets than needed to cushion them from the hard ground. And Dylan knew that Blake was normally just as minimalist as he was when it came to packing for action. This was for his sake, so Dylan wouldn’t have to sleep on the hard ground when his body already ached.

  He sighed, unlacing and kicking off his boots outside the tent before scooting further in. Part of him hated it. Hated the fact that Blake even thought he needed the extra pampering and the special considerations. He hated reminders of his condition and that he wasn’t at the top of his game.

  Still, as he peeled off his clothes and set them aside, feeling the softness of their blanket nest, he finally appreciated the thought behind it.

  He wasn’t a fool. He knew Blake was mad at him. He knew he had every right to be. But the fact that his mate was still doing little things like this, still going out of his way to comfort him and even stand between him and danger. Well, it sparked something warm deep inside Dylan’s core.

  By the time Blake returned to the tent, Dylan was nestled beneath the blankets, his back turned away as he faced the wall of their tent. He stayed silent and still as Blake kicked off his shoes, scooting into the tent and zipping it shut before peeling off his clothes and tossing them aside. Dylan tracked his movement through sound alone, eyes open but locked on the canvas wall of the tent.

  He knew that he couldn’t pretend to be fully asleep. Blake would be able to tell if he was awake or not. Still, despite the few comforting touches they had exchanged since leaving the Shadow Pack compound, they were still at odds with one another. It wasn’t as vast as it had been or might be, but it was still there. Simply knowing that Blake wasn’t happy with him, and him being upset with Blake as well, kept Dylan from turning around and embracing his mate.

  The blankets shifted as Blake slid under them, and Dylan stiffened as the man slid up behind him.

  Blake’s touch was hesitant and slow, as if he weren’t quite sure whether or not he was crossing a boundary. His hands hovered uncertain at his hip and back, body close enough that Dylan could feel his warmth without quite feeling his touch. He breathed in deep, inhaling Blake’s scent, letting the walls around his heart loosen just a fraction to let out tentative feelers through their bond.

  Blake seemed just as exhausted as he was, both mentally and physically. It had been a very long day for both men. Despite not doing much, simply being in the presence of Arulean’s overpowering aura and distressed scent had been draining. And with that exhaustion came the loosening of their guard. He could feel Blake’s weariness, his need for comfort, and the need for touch. Beneath it all, he could still feel Blake’s frustration with him, and he knew they were far from okay, but for now...

  For now, a little comfort couldn’t hurt. Especially if it helped them rest and prepare for whatever was to come tomorrow.

  So Dylan let out his deep breath in a long winded sigh, letting his body slump as the tension oozed out of it. And with that release, he pushed back against Blake. He pressed his back against his alpha’s firm chest. Dylan pressed his hips back against Blake’s, feeling the satisfied brush of the soft hair and soft skin of his mate’s thighs against his ass.

  It took a moment, one where the two of them simply breathed in each other’s scents, before Blake gave in.

  His arms wrapped around Dylan from behind, hands and fingertips moving slowly but purposefully, not hurried in any way, not demanding, but soft and gentle, mapping out the dips and curves of his body that were both familiar and new. It was another reminder that his body was changing, a change that he didn’t like, and it had Dylan biting his bottom lip.

  But then Blake’s lips were on his neck, his warm breath caressing Dylan’s skin. He pressed gentle, open mouthed kisses against the glands in Dylan’s neck, and his back arched, a soft sound escaping his lips as he tilted his head to give his mate more room.

  Then the atmosphere in the tent shifted. The touches became more insistent, a little firmer as his alpha’s hands drifted along Dylan’s body. When long, calloused fingers touched his hip, drifting down to dig into his thigh, Dylan spread his legs on instinct, lifting one up and leaning back to hook it over Blake’s, exposing himself in an open invitation.

  He could feel Blake’s arousal pressing into his cheeks, the alpha’s hips canting shallowly against him in a subtle search for friction. When Blake touched him, fingers wrapping around his length, Dylan’s back arched, pushing more firmly against his mate. He lifted a hand, reaching behind him to twist his fingers into Blake’s hair. The alpha growled, deep and rumbling, the lips at his neck pulling back to reveal sharp teeth and he bit down and nipped at the over sensitive skin.

  Dylan’s breath became quicker, and with each inhale, he tasted Blake’s arousal on his tongue.

  It was something so much deeper than just the two of them. Something biological. The desperate need for comfort from one’s mate after being exposed to the overwhelming heartache that clung to Arulean and pervaded the air around him. The need to know that they weren’t alone. Yes, they were still arguing and had their differences but in this moment, they weren’t alone.

  And Dylan needed that comfort just as much as Blake did. To know that despite their argument, they weren’t broken. They were still together, a couple, still here for one another, and they had hope of fixing this once all the chaos was over.

  So when Blake’s fingers slipped inside him, Dylan didn’t
pull away. And as Blake stretched him, soft noises of encouragement slipped from his lips as his fingers tightened in Blake’s hair. Blake pushed into him, slow and steady, burying himself to the hilt and he took a moment to simply breathe, to simply exist there, where the two of them were one, combined and whole. Dylan whined low in his throat, unable to hold back the plea in that sound and the desperate fondness that leaked out of his heart and through their bond.

  They made love slowly, hips rocking together and breaths heavy in the silence of their small tent. When Blake pushed in to knot him, to seal them together in a desperate and clinging attempt to keep them whole and as one, Dylan didn’t protest. He simply pushed back against him and cried out soft and needy as Blake stretched him further.

  Worn out, tired, and drained, sleep took them quickly and deeply, neither of them pulling away from the other. Dylan fell asleep with the feeling of Blake’s lips on his neck and a hand splayed wide and protective over his belly.

  _______________________

  “I’m still not happy about this,” Blake said, voice gruff with displeasure and still rough around the edges from sleep. He pulled his shirt over his head: thick, long-sleeved, and black. As he settled it around his waist, he shot Dylan a disapproving glare, but the heat behind it was only half-hearted. Blake’s defenses were wearing thin as time ran out.

  “I know,” Dylan’s voice was soft, almost in apology but not in regret. He pulled his own shirt on, similar to Blake’s, but looser to better hide his belly. He already had his pants on, form fitting but loose enough to move freely, with plenty of pockets and straps for his gear. The front flap of their tent was open, letting in the fresh morning chill from the breeze. Dylan repressed a shiver, reaching forward to grab his boots and yanking them towards him, pulling them on roughly. “You’ve made that abundantly clear,” he grumbled, roughly tugging on the laces.