Kosh's Omega

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Kosh's Omega Page 11

by Carolyn Faulkner


  But it didn't happen quite as Kosh had imagined.

  Instead, they had sent a man ahead—as if they knew right where his room was—who crept stealthily down the corridor and took aim at his door, shooting off an automatic weapon right through it, driving him back against the far wall—right in front of the bathroom—from the force of the bullets that cut across him.

  Tura had left as small crack in one of the ceiling tiles so that she could see some of what was going on. She wanted to scream when she saw the trail of blood his body left behind on the wall as he sank to the floor, but she schooled herself to remain as still and quiet as she could, since the enemy was pouring into the room, sniffing loudly as they did.

  They didn't bother to see if he was alive or not, though, all of them too far overtaken by the scent of her around the room.

  "Our snitch said he had an Omega. This is his room. Where is she?"

  They tore the room apart, but since the bathroom was so bare, they didn't bother to do much more than lean into it and give it a cursory glance.

  "Maybe he's keeping her in the jail?"

  The leader of the group punched the man who suggested that, hard enough to make him almost wince. "Now, if you had access to your own Omega, would you put her somewhere where you weren't, idiot?"

  "Maybe she's at the breeding doctor?" someone suggested. "Or in the clinic, because she's carrying?"

  "We should check that out. At the very least, we could steal some medicine. Although I'd rather get myself an Omega."

  They very slowly made their way out the door while Tura remained as quiet as a mouse until well after she heard them departing loudly down the hallway.

  If she wasn't concerned about the extent of his injuries, she might have remained in her little hiding place a bit longer, but she knew she needed to get to Kosh to see if he was even still alive, so she dropped down, very cautiously, her ears pricked up to be alert to any sounds that might indicate that they—or anyone else—was coming towards the room and its now useless door.

  When she got to him, he was unconscious and losing a lot of blood.

  She laid him flat on the ground and tried to remember everything she could about medicine, but that wasn't much. She did grab the sheet off the bed, folding some of it into a big bandage and tearing others of it into strips.

  Once she'd staunched the bleeding some, she knew she had to get to either Kel or, preferably, Emmy. She put the blanket over him, thinking it might absorb more of the blood and perhaps give anyone passing by the idea that he was dead.

  When Tura stepped out of the room, though, into the deserted corridor, a thought struck her. She was—as she stood in his big shirt—just about as safe from other Alphas as she would ever be, covered in his scent. He wasn't in any kind of a condition to pursue her, and his weapons were readily available on the floor very near him. When she turned back around, she could see them there, as if they were beckoning to her.

  She could, if she wanted to, leave. She'd probably have to be smarter about avoiding their common enemy than Vaudt's men, and she could definitely find clothing and weapons along the way that would make her much less of a target. No one expected a woman to be carrying a gun or one who was willing to engage in a physical fight, either. She might just make it out of here, if she wanted to try.

  That was the question that she couldn't seem to answer as she stood there, knowing she had to make a decision or he would soon be dead and it would be made for her. With a small sigh, she turned and headed down the hallway, almost crashing into Emmy, who was running towards her with the baby in her arms.

  "I need you!" Tura grabbed Emily's arm and hauled her back to Kosh's room.

  "What happened?" The older woman sank to her knees next to the big man.

  "He was hit with gunfire—his stomach is bleeding. What can I do to help you?"

  Emily put little Keev in the relative safety of the tub, her eyes drawn to the hole in the ceiling that she intended to ask Tura about later before she enlisted Tura in helping her do what she could to save her mate.

  As she worked quickly, she said, "I have had word from Vaudt. They have nearly been driven from the compound. He had told me to go stay with you, because he knows you can fight, and he needed all of the men he could muster to drive them off. As soon as we can, we need to get word to the clinic. We need to get him there if he's going to live."

  It was quite some time before some of the small medical teams that Emmy had worked with Kel about setting up—but had never thought they would be put into action within their own compound—found them, and Tura had held Kosh's limp hand against her breast throughout the entire time as Emily worked on him, assisting where and when she could. It took all of those men plus Tura to carry him to the makeshift hospital.

  Like Vaudt had been put out of the operating room, so was Tura, and she did much the same thing he had—stood right at the doors, waiting for word.

  Vaudt eventually found her that way, holding his son, tears tracing silently down her cheeks.

  It wasn't the smartest thing for one Alpha to touch another's woman, but Vaudt put his big hand on her small shoulder. "I heard he was hurt." Some of Kosh's futzing with electronics had paid off, and a few of his men had primitive communication equipment that he had resurrected himself.

  "Shot, multiple times in the stomach. And it took so long to get him here—he lost a lot of blood."

  Emmy came through the door at that moment, pushing Tura away from it. She knew she should update her friend on the condition of her mate, but the first thing she did was walk into Vaudt's arms, which closed tightly around her, mud, blood and everything else he was wearing be damned.

  As soon as she felt that ache in her heart alleviated some, she turned to Tura.

  "He's alive, but barely."

  It was a long, slow road until he finally awoke one morning. Tura had never left his side over the past three weeks, sleeping in an uncomfortable chair by his bedside and acting as his private nurse so capably that Emmy wanted to recruit her to help in the hospital.

  Tura had pointed out that she didn't read, but Emmy had countered with the fact that most of the people who worked there didn't.

  She also said something to Tura that stopped her in her tracks. "I'm glad you decided to stay and try to save him, rather than making your escape."

  Tura's eyes widened alarmingly.

  They were chatting, alone, in his hospital room. "I saw you, just before you turned and began to head towards me. You looked down the corridor the other way, then into the room behind you, at him, then back again, and I knew you were thinking that you could probably have gotten away, and that this was probably going to be your only chance to do so."

  Tura drew a deep breath. "Yes."

  "He would have died if you'd gone."

  She watched tears fill the younger woman's eyes. "I know."

  "But you would have had what you want most in the world—your freedom."

  Tura met Emmy's eyes for a long moment, then she took Kosh's hand in hers as the tears splashed down onto his arm.

  They hadn't spoken of it again.

  Kosh opened his eyes and she was the first thing he saw, hovering over him, her eyes wet with tears.

  "Why are you crying?" he asked. "You only ever cry when you're over my lap."

  "Kosh! Shh!" she said, blushing brightly, leaning down to kiss his cheek gently.

  "Emmy cries every time I punish her," Vaudt said in a manner that his mate found very unhelpful, so she swatted him. "We should leave, my lord." She got up, then looked back at him pointedly until he got the hint.

  "Oh, all right," he said reluctantly, rising to pat Kosh on the shoulder. "Good to have you back. Get well quick; we have a lot to do."

  When the door closed behind them, Kosh's fingers looped around her wrist, although he didn't have the strength to use his grip to do anything, but she got the idea and leaned towards him.

  "Thank you for being here."

  Her breath caug
ht and her big eyes sought his, confirming the truth of his words.

  "I was awake when you and Emmy had your little discussion."

  Tura rolled her eyes and sighed. "Of course, you were."

  They were quiet for a moment as he rubbed his thumb against her pulse, which was just about the only thing he was capable of doing to her at this point. The spirit was definitely willing, but the flesh was horribly weak.

  "But there was another reason why I didn't leave, you know."

  He raised his eyebrows at her as she brought the hand that had been holding her wrist to her tummy, and she didn't have to say anything else.

  His face lit up more animatedly than she'd ever seen it. "Are you sure, little girl?" he asked, the reserves of his strength fading fast, even though he desperately wanted to stay awake and make sure that she was all right and being well cared for in his absence.

  "Yes, I am," she said, ruffling a hand through his hair. "But I'll have Emmy confirm it, if you like."

  "Good girl."

  He slumped a bit, and she figured he'd had to surrender to sleep, so she bent down to kiss his forehead, whispering softly, "I love you."

  Then, suddenly, he turned his head, the bastard, pressing his lips to hers and whispering back, "I love you, too," before he closed his eyes again on a very smug smile.

  The End

  Carolyn Faulkner

  The words “spanking” and “discipline” have always sent a shiver up Carolyn Faulkner's spine. She knows she's not alone.

  Writing started as a way to explore her feelings. Soon short stories flowed from her pen featuring reluctant heroes taking the leading lady in hand, but always for her own good.

  Today Carolyn is the author of dozens of books. She writes from her home in Maine, where she lives with her husband and leading man.

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