Untouched Omega: An MM Mpreg Shifter Romance (Wolves of Mist Peak Book 4)

by Aspen Grey

  Untouched Omega

  Wolves of Mist Peak - Book 4

  Aspen Grey

  Contents

  Scent of the Author

  Also by Aspen Grey

  1. Jude

  2. Alexei

  3. Jude

  4. Alexei

  5. Jude

  6. Alexei

  7. Jude

  8. Alexei

  9. Jude

  10. Alexei

  Epilogue

  Also by Aspen Grey

  Off Limits Omega Sample

  1. Blue

  2. Blue

  3. Alexander

  4. Alexander

  Liberated Omega Sample

  1. Eric

  2. Brooks

  Fated Omega Sample

  1. Jessie

  2. Fletcher

  Scent of the Author

  Stalk the author for more information on freebies, promos, cover reveals and new releases!

  Join my mailing list for information on freebies and new releases!!!

  Aspen Grey on Facebook

  Aspen Grey on Amazon!

  Also by Aspen Grey

  Scarlet Mountain Pack Series

  Texas Heat Series

  Foxes of Scarlet Peak Series

  SoCal Cuties Series

  Off Limits Omega

  Contents

  1. Jude

  2. Alexei

  3. Jude

  4. Alexei

  5. Jude

  6. Alexei

  7. Jude

  8. Alexei

  9. Jude

  10. Alexei

  Epilogue

  Also by Aspen Grey

  Off Limits Omega Sample

  1. Blue

  2. Blue

  3. Alexander

  4. Alexander

  Liberated Omega Sample

  1. Eric

  2. Brooks

  Fated Omega Sample

  1. Jessie

  2. Fletcher

  Chapter One

  Jude

  “Listen to me, you little shit!” my landlord snarled, his yellow, wrinkled fist in my face. “This is two months you owe me! Two months! Now you either come up with the rent by tomorrow, or I’ll have you out on the street!”

  “I have rights!” I shouted back at him. “And I told you I’ll pay you when I can! I work tonight—”

  “Oh, at that den of sin downtown!?” he scoffed. “What are you gonna get? Eighty bucks at best? That’s not even a tenth of what you owe me!”

  “Fine, you know what?” I snapped. “I’ll just reach into my ass, find the $1,600 I’ve been hiding up there and give it to you, how’s that? I can’t promise what condition the bills will be in though.”

  “You’re a sassy little prick, aren’t you?” Mr. Scrawl replied. He looked like a troll or something out of Lord of the Rings when he was angry, and if I wasn’t so fucking pissed off, I would have laughed at just how ridiculous his pudgy, bald face looked. “But this is my building, so either you come up with something for me tomorrow, or you’re gonna regret it.”

  He turned his back and strode down the hall away from me.

  “Is that a threat?” I shouted, knowing just how red my face was at that moment. But Mr. Scrawl didn’t answer. He just kept walking. “Is that a threat? Because I don’t take kindly to threats!”

  I stepped back into my apartment and slammed the door with such force that my little hanging “Home Sweet Home” plaque came crashing down and shattered on the faded floor.

  “Fuck my life,” I grumbled as I took the three steps it took to cross my living room and get to my bedroom. I slumped down on the bed, hoping to close my eyes and get a quick nap in before work, but my neighbors had a different plan.

  They were fucking—again.

  I looked up at the cracked and peeling ceiling above my bed as I listened to them go at it for the fourth time that day (that I counted). I don’t know how they did it, but I did know that the girl always sounded like she was being murdered, and the guy sounded like a game show host announcing to the audience what he was about to do.

  “I’m going to spank you, you naughty girl,” he said, sounding like Alex Trebek. “Would you like that?”

  She yelped back like a cat being killed in the middle of the night. I sighed and covered my ears.

  “Fuck my life.”

  I looked at my phone and saw that it was almost 8:00, which meant I could go in to work now. Work sucked, but at least it would get me out of my room with walls that must have been made out of tissue paper. I got up and banged on the wall with my fist.

  “Shut the fuck up already!”

  This only encouraged them. The girl squawked louder and I could hear the sounds of the man spanking her fat butt. She was a rude, disgusting piece of work who looked like she hadn’t eaten a healthy meal in decades and always frowned at me when we passed each other in the hall. If there was anyone who had a right to be frowning, it was me, not her.

  I grabbed the cleanest t-shirt I could find from my hamper, as the washing machine was still broken (as it had been for the last week) and threw it on. It was sleeveless and had a terrible graphic of a Twinkie cake on it with the ie crossed out. It was corny, but relatively appropriate for the kind of guy I was.

  At 5’2’’, I was what the alphas referred to as a “spinner,” someone who you could literally spin around on your dick when you were on the bottom. It sounded ridiculous and impossible to me, but what would I know? I was a virgin, and given the mating pool of alphas in High Rock, Colorado, I didn’t see that changing anytime soon.

  I checked my hair, smoothed a little bit of my glitter moisturizer onto my shoulders while the girl next door screamed like a banshee as she came, grabbed my wallet and beat feet out the door.

  “Fuck—my—life!” I grumbled as I shouldered the outside door open and stepped into the dusty parking lot. It stank like trash. For all the shit Mr. Scrawl talked about this being “his building,” he sure didn’t seem to give two shits about it. The front steps and door were so decayed that nobody even used them, the outdoor locks didn’t work and it stank like old curry and rotten broccoli. But it was the cheapest place I could find and moving just wasn’t in the cards for me. Not unless something drastic changed.

  I got in my faded green 1999 Corolla and turned the key.

  Click. Click. Click.

  “No,” I said. “No, come on!”

  I tried again.

  Click. Click. Click.

  Dead battery.

  I slumped forward, mashing my face against the steering wheel. I must have left my dome light on or something. I honestly hoped it was that, as I didn’t even want to think about having to replace the battery. That was an expense I just didn’t need.

  I opened my phone to call an Uber, but realized that I couldn’t even afford that either. That left only one choice. Valentino.

  Sighing, I scrolled through my contacts until I found his name. Wishing I could do anything else, I called.

  “Yo, yo, yo!” he answered, sounding like one of those ‘90s boy band kids who thought they were hip. “W’as good, w’as goo?”

  “Hey, Valentino. Are you at the club already?”

  “Heading over now. Why? You need a ride again?”

  “Car won’t start,” I replied.

  “Oh, I got you, boo,” he said. I could hear the obnoxious smile on his lips. “Be right over. Don’t you worry your cute booty one bit!”

  Before I could respond, he hung up on me. Valentino was one of the dancers at Entrance in the Rear, and
he loved his job. Whether it was dancing up as a fireman, a rodeo rider or a cowboy, a police officer—he loved it all. He worked out seven days a week and had a spray tan that made him look like he’d been eating ten pounds of carrots a day for ten years. His bleached blond hair was so dead that I wondered why he didn’t shave it. He was a beta, and was sometimes submissive to alphas and sometimes dominant with omegas. He had been trying to get in my pants since I turned eighteen, but I’d rather get fucked by my crazed screaming neighbor while she wore a strap-on.

  I kept my face blank and my eyes down as he pulled up in his bright pink Camaro—yes, bright pink—hoping he would see I wasn’t in a mood to be harassed. It didn’t work.

  “Hey, Super Booty,” he teased, squeezing my leg as we pulled off. “Car problems again, eh?”

  “Hands off the goods, creepo,” I replied. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

  “You know, Jude. You need to loosen up. You know what I mean? Loosen up?”

  “Hyuk hyuk!” I snorted, faking a laugh as we drove through town. It was the beginning of March, so the snow was gone but the leaves had yet to come out, so everything just looked kind of dead.

  Yeah, like your soul, I thought.

  “Seriously, though,” he continued. “When you gonna let me open you up?”

  “Hmmm, let’s see,” I pondered. “Oh, how about this? When Donald Trump retires and opens up a nail salon that he personally works at giving mani-pedis? Then I’ll let you stick that tiny dick in me.”

  “Whoa!” he laughed. “With a tongue like that I can’t imagine how well you suck dick!”

  “Well, keep wondering.”

  This went on until we reached the club. I got out quickly and headed inside before him, only to run into Tiffany Hutchins, the owner of the club, who was wrangling several cases of beer.

  “Oh, Jude!” she said happily. “Help me with this, will you?”

  “I’m an omega, boss. Can’t you get one of the alphas to help you?”

  “Oh, shut up and grab the other end of this!”

  I helped her get the cases stacked and stepped out of the way as Valentino came in and headed for the main room.

  “Watch out for that one, boss. He’s sassy!”

  “Choke on a dick,” I told him.

  “I hope to.” He winked back.

  “Fuck my life.”

  “There are already a few customers at the bar,” Tiffany told me. “Why don’t you head out there and get started?”

  I nodded miserably and headed into the main room of the club. It was black and maroon walls with three stages, two small ones on each side and a larger one in the center for “feature dancers,” which was a big joke as nobody from out of town ever came to dance here. There were rumors of some male porn star showing up one weekend, but that never happened.

  Big surprise. High Rock was about as happening as Sleepy Hills and the other surrounding towns of Mist Peak.

  “Hey there, lamb chop,” a greasy-looking old man said with a grin as I came around the bar.

  “Lamb’s not on the menu tonight,” I warned him as I wet down a rag and wiped down the bar top. “Sorry.”

  “How about a brewski?”

  “Preference?”

  “Whatever’s cheap,” he replied. I nodded.

  Of course, I thought. Everyone’s cheap around here.

  “Why ain’t you up on one of those stages?” he asked as I set the bottle down in front of him. He was an alpha, but for some reason I could hardly smell him. It was just a slight tinge in the air as though he’d been wearing pheromone blockers earlier in the day or something. “You could make a good buck with that body of yours. God, wouldn’t want you to waste those gifts he gave you.”

  “God?” I smirked. “You think God wants anything to do with this place?”

  The greaseball chuckled. “Name’s Marcus.”

  He extended a hand, but I just forced a smile. “Call me Alejandro.”

  “Alejandro?” he laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  It was typical for the boys to use aliases when at work. Didn’t want any crazy stalkers finding you on social media. We had Long Dave, Troy (whose real name was Paul), Jay Bird, Big Ben, Monster Matt and various others. Sometimes I’d just make something up when I wasn’t interested.

  “I gotta check something,” I lied as I ducked out of the bar and headed for the lap dance hall. There weren’t any dances going on in the booths yet, and I was able to lean against the wall and take a breath.

  I’d never been more miserable. Mom and pops were gone, I was stuck at a dead-end job that they both would have died if they’d seen me working, and worst of all, at eighteen years old, any hope I’d ever had of falling in love was completely gone.

  Men were pigs. Savages, interested in only one thing. And that’s why they came to the club. Half the boys fucked their customers and the other half either paid for sex or charged for it. Nobody was in a relationship for longer than two weeks tops, and the alphas who came in from out of town would say whatever they thought would get them in the pants of one of our omegas—not that it was that difficult to do.

  Love? Not in this life.

  Chapter Two

  Alexei

  I could smell the son of a bitch. He thought he’d sprayed himself with enough pheromone blocker but he was wrong. An unknown alpha coming into High Rock doing his best to make himself undetected? There was only one person who could be behind that: Viggo Petrov, my old boss.

  Viggo was a ruthless gang leader from New York City, and a year ago, I’d been working as one of his most feared enforcers. I did his dirty work, from collecting payments to handing out beatings to those other packs that wouldn’t get in line, and if it came to it, doling out the ultimate punishment. But I had my one rule: no innocent bystanders. Viggo knew this, and I thought he respected me enough to never ask me to break my rule. But I was wrong.

  One of the smaller gangs in the city crossed him, tried to keep a percentage of what they owed him for protection money, and Viggo lost his mind. Rather than having me go collect, he told me to do something much more drastic. He told me to kill their leader’s son.

  I told him no, but he gave me an ultimatum: do what he says or face the wrath of him and the rest of the gang. Funny how quickly those you trusted can turn on you. But I don’t take kindly to ultimatums. So, I hit Viggo where it hurt—his wallet. I raided his secret stash, took the money I was owed and then some, and headed out. I left the city behind and headed for Colorado.

  High Rock was a quiet town at the base of the Mist Peak mountain, a place with few shifters and no connection to New York. I bought some land and used my money to build myself a house fit for MTV Cribs. I let my hair grow out of my ruthless buzz cut, bought a crappy truck for when I went into town, and left the criminal underworld behind me. But it seemed like my old life had finally caught up to me.

  I sniffed the air as I blazed into town on my bike. The alpha’s scent was weak but it was enough for me to track.

  Had they really only sent one guy? That meant they didn’t know I was here. He was just a scout, and given the fact that I didn’t recognize the scent, it probably meant Viggo had contracted out with other packs to hunt me down. The bastard was vindictive, and I’d made him look like a chump in front of the whole city. I knew he’d never stop looking for me, I just never thought he’d find me so soon.

  The scent weaved around the outskirts of town, through all the side streets and alleys. Whoever this guy was, he was methodical. Viggo must have shelled out some serious dough for a scout like that. I’d picked up the scent when I’d come down from my house to head into town, and immediately doused myself with pheromone blockers before setting out after him. He probably wasn’t even expecting to find me here. He’d gone through most of the town already. Poor bastard had no idea that he was the one being hunted—not me.

  It had been a mistake getting involved in the criminal world, but what’s an orphan gonna do, right? My parents wer
e crooks and it got them killed before I was old enough to remember their faces. Guess it was fitting that their son grew up to be an outlaw too. But the difference between me and my fathers was that I wasn’t going to die young. No way, no how.

  I followed the scent into a part of town I never went to. The son of a bitch must have tired out and decided he needed some relaxation time, as his trail led me straight to the “gentlemen’s club,” Entrance in the Rear. Like most of the alphas I’d encountered in my old life in New York City, they weren’t concerned with finding any sort of real connection or love. All they wanted was a piece of ass or a glimpse of a nice omega booty. That wasn’t how I rolled, so I avoided shitholes like this. But tonight, I was on a mission. So I parked my bike in the shadows of the parking lot and headed inside.

  It was just as grim as I’d expected, with dim lights aside from the colored ones that lit up the three stages. Two of them were empty, while a twink omega dressed up in an ironic fairy costume walked lazily around one of the poles while a couple of drunk alphas watched from below.

  What a way to make a living, I thought as I handed the bouncer a ten for the entrance fee and began to search for the bastard who was tailing me. I sauntered over to the bar, hoping to grab a drink and make myself inconspicuous, but there wasn’t even anyone working the counter. What the Hell was this place anyway?