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

by Aspen Grey

  “Tyson!” he exclaimed. I guess he thought his alpha would handle me easily, but he’d underestimated me. Then again, I was fueled by a fire that he could not understand—the fire of protectiveness for my fated-mate. “No!”

  He released the omega, who still had enough presence of mind to have some strength in his legs and fought to stand before he began to topple over. I instantly shifted back to my human form and dashed over to him, sliding on my knees and catching him before he fell. I cradled him and stared down at the most beautiful face I’d ever seen in my life.

  Don’t worry. I’ve got you.

  Larcon raced past me and slapped a hand over Tyson’s neck, doing his best to stop the flow of blood from the severed jugular I’d given him.

  “I’d hurry if I were you,” I called out over my shoulder as I kicked open the back door. “He might make it if you get him to a doctor in time. Clarice might even stitch him up if you are nice to her!”

  “You son of a bitch!” Larcon screamed at me. “You’re gonna pay for this!”

  His words were nothing but noise in my ears as I raced quickly out the back and through the parking lot over to my car. Thankfully, it was raining and the humans were inside. It wouldn’t have been good for them to see a naked man carrying a young man over to his car and speeding away.

  I managed to get the passenger side door open and slid the beautiful boy inside, then hopped in the driver’s seat and threw the car into gear. I’d have to pass Officer Brady on the way out of town, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered right now besides getting this omega home and making sure he was safe. Who knew who Larcon had been talking to on his phone when I came in—he could have his whole pack on the way into town right now.

  I floored it and roared, my voice lost beneath the roar of the engine as it howled, propelling the car to high speed and sending me screaming out of town. I blew past the police cruiser doing at least sixty, but by the time Brady would be able to get his cruiser in gear and head after me, I was already halfway home.

  The rain poured from the sky as I hit eighty before I had to slow down on the curve up into the hills, drifted around the corner and floored it again, pushing the classic Ferrari for all it was worth. The tires squealed against the wet pavement as I tore up the base of the mountain towards our compound.

  I slowed at our private road and sped down the driveway to the house. The Ferrari’s tires screeched to a halt at the front steps and I was on the other side pulling open the passenger side door before I could blink twice.

  Rain pelted down on us as I snatched the poor omega up in my arms and took the steps two at a time up to the house. I was about to shoulder the door down when Jasper pulled it open for me.

  “What happened?” he practically shouted.

  “Clarice!” I roared. “Is she here?”

  “I think so—”

  “I’m here!” Clarice’s voice rang out from upstairs and she appeared on the second-floor balcony.

  “Help! Larcon drugged him—put something in his drink, I think!”

  Clarice rushed down the stairs, her messy hair twisted up in a bun, looking more like a stylish New York magazine editor than a shifter nurse living in the woods in Colorado. But Clarice’s skills as a healer were unmatched. She worked at the hospital for the humans during the day, but tended to any and all shifter injuries when needed—even treating the Kurrens since the peace had begun.

  She won’t be treating Tyson, though, I thought as I set the omega down on the couch. She raced over to his side and placed a hand on his neck to feel his pulse.

  My own heart was racing as I waited, feeling helpless as she examined him. She pulled back his eyelids and looked into his eyes, then leaned close and sniffed his body up and down. Finally, she placed a hand on his forehead and closed her eyes.

  “Well?” I snapped. “Is he going to live?”

  Clarice opened her eyes. “He’s going to be fine.”

  “Oh, thank God,” I exclaimed as I sat back and placed a hand on the boy’s leg. “Thank God for that.”

  “What the fuck is this?” I looked up to see Eric coming in from the kitchen. He was the pack’s de facto leader since Hector disappeared. No one had really elected him, but he’d decided we should all listen to what he had to say. His decisions were questionable, and I was growing tired of it.

  “Listen—” I started to say, but he cut me right off.

  “I just got a call from Marco.” Marco was another one of the Kurrens’ alphas. “He told me you tried to kill Tyson?”

  “No,” I shook my head. “Tyson tried to kill me after I walked into The Bar and saw Larcon drugging this omega, ready to drag him off to their compound and keep him as part of his harem!”

  “And you intervened?”

  “You’re goddamn right I did!” I snarled, getting to my feet as I felt that old wound open again ever so slightly. “And I won’t apologize for it either!”

  “Alex,” Eric said firmly as he stepped up right in front of me. “We have peace with the Kurrens. We don’t interfere in their affairs and they don’t interfere with ours. Now, I understand what you must be feeling because of your—”

  “Don’t you dare!” I snapped. “You don’t have any idea how I’m feeling right now! Don’t even try to pretend you do!”

  Eric wanted to say something, but held his tongue. I kept my eyes locked on his, showing him I wasn’t about to back down, when Jasper, who was standing by the piano, finally spoke.

  “Why did you bring him back here though, Alex? I mean—what’s so special about this omega that you’d risk the peace for him?”

  I broke my glare and turned around to gaze at the beautiful boy who was lying so peacefully on the couch.

  “Because,” I said to the room, “he’s my fated-mate.”

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  Chapter One

  Eric

  Sold…I thought as I lay miserably in bed and stared at my Sleepy Hills High graduation tassel that hung from the mirror over my desk.

  My father sold me. What an amazing birthday present.

  I turned eighteen tomorrow, June 8. Most kids got a car or a computer for their birthday, but not me! I got an alpha—an alpha that I didn’t choose, didn’t want, and couldn’t return if I wanted to. My son of a bitch father had sold me for 40,000 dollars. Can you believe that? Not even enough to live comfortably on for more than a couple of years max. His only son!

  Mark Duplass…that was his name. He was a trust fund baby that lived in a mansion just outside of town with who knew how many bedrooms. I never understood why rich people always gloated about how many bedrooms they had anyway. I mean—how many children were you really going to have? And if you didn’t want a huge family, did you really have enough friends who were coming to stay over that often? I’d rather have a nice cozy place with just enough room.

  I’d always been a dreamer, tearing up over cheesy romance movies on Netflix, loving a nice chick-flick and a tub of Haagen-Dazs, picturing myself as the awkward girl who got swept off her feet by the heart-melting man who fell in love with her and took her away to a beautiful cottage where they’d raise a family together (why didn’t they make those films about two guys I wonder…?), but once my father had given me the news of what was going to happen to me, I realized that my happily-ever-after was nothing but a fantasy.

  “You’re going with him and that’s that!” he’d told me with a slap to the cheek. “He’s rich, he’ll give you everything you’ll ever need, and I won’t have you linking up with one of those crazy Webbers that live up by Mist Peak! Violent sons of bitches, do you have any idea the trouble they stirred up last year with that pack war against the Kurrens?”

  “I don’t think they started that, dad—”

  He shut me up with a second clap and pointed a warning finger in my face. He was really angry at me, and part of me wanted to believe that some o
f that anger was directed at himself—guilt at having sold his only son—but I knew I was just rationalizing. My dad had always been a cruel man. I didn’t have a single happy memory of my youth that involved him, and I’d never even known my other father. A one-night stand probably. Dad never talked about him.

  “You just be thankful for what I’ve arranged for you,” he told me. “You’ll be a prince around these parts!”

  “I don’t want to be a prince!” I’d shouted, ducking out of the way of his third blow. “I just want someone I love!”

  “Love’s a bunch of bullshit, boy!” he called after me as I raced upstairs and slammed my bedroom door. “You better get that through your thick head!”

  I’d cried for a long time, wondering for a moment if I should just shift and head into the woods and live off the land. But I wasn’t a wolf—not completely—I was a shifter, and that kind of life wasn’t for me.

  I looked at the clock on my wall. It was 10:55, which meant Mark was on his way over. He was taking me out “for drinks,” which meant—as I was underage—that we were going to get a coffee in downtown Mountainside at a place that stayed open until eleven so students could study. I prayed I wouldn’t run into anybody I knew from school. This was supposed to be a “get to know each other” meeting so I’d be more amiable tomorrow when he took me to his house.

  Tomorrow…

  Tomorrow I would be gone.

  Tomorrow I would be legal.

  I shuddered at the thought. I was as virginal as they come. I’d kissed two guys in my entire life, and one of them was when I was six and was just a silly game with boys experimenting with each other. I’d never had sex, never given head (unless you counted practicing on a cucumber when I thought Corey Foreman was going to ask me to prom) and only given a single handjob that I thought would be reciprocated but wasn’t. Mark was definitely going to want to have sex with me, and probably as soon as possible. And that terrified me.

  I almost jumped out of bed when I heard the doorbell. I got to my feet and checked my hair in the mirror. It wasn’t that I cared what Mark thought of me, after all he’d already paid for me, it’s just that I knew my father would have a fit if I didn’t look perfect.

  My chestnut curls were looking good. I’d washed and conditioned my hair and then blow dried it to make them curl just right. My skin was clear, thank God, and I thought I looked pretty cute in my beige chinos and white and gray striped t-shirt.

  “Eric,” my father shouted from downstairs.

  “Coming,” I replied.

  “Hurry up!” he waved his hand at me and I came down, taking each step like it was going to be my last. My legs felt like I’d just run ten miles and my heart was like an overinflated balloon ready to pop. When I reached the ground floor, my dad got right up into my face.

  “Now, no funny business! You understand?”

  “What kind of funny business?”

  “Any!” he snapped. “Best behavior. If you screw this up for me, you’ll wish you were never born!”

  Like I already don’t, I thought miserably as he opened the door.

  Mark didn’t even come in. He stood on the steps and eyed our little home with obvious disdain. Some people would have found him good-looking, but he made me want to hurl.

  He dressed like a total fuck-boy, wearing nude-colored joggers with some kind of chunky sneaker that dads wore in the ‘80s. He had that typical haircut that everyone had these days with the sides shaved and the top slicked back, and a long-hem t-shirt in an off-pink color that reminded me of Pepto-Bismol.

  “Ready to go?” he asked me.

  “He is!” my dad answered for me. He pushed me on the lower back and I stumbled out onto the porch. Mark winked at my dad, took me by the arm and led me over to his Aston Martin. It could have been nice, if not for the fact that he’d had it wrapped in reflective gold paint.

  “Get in,” he told me. “And don’t scratch the paint.”

  Sure, trust fund baby.

  Mark smelled…unpleasant. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what I didn’t like about it. It was something like an old laundry room or a damp basement that someone had been smoking cigars in. It was undeniably alpha, but harsh and sloppy.

  Mark’s parents had struck it rich somehow—something involving the tech industry or an app or something—and then died and left their fortune to him. He was thirty-nine and hadn’t worked a day in his life. People in town knew all about him and his debaucheries, paying for companions and indulging in every substance known to man. Some of the alphas looked up to him, but any omega with any sense knew that these were the kinds of men you stayed away from.

  We rode in silence into town. As he pulled up in front of the coffee shop, he grimaced.

  “You’d think they’d have a valet by now,” he scoffed.

  A valet in a tiny town like this?

  He got out and I did the same. He walked in, not bothering to hold the door open for me, but expecting me to follow him dutifully. Not wanting to upset my dad and face his wrath when I got home, I did just that.

  “Sit over there,” he told me as he went to the counter. I did as I was told, feeling like my heart was on the verge of collapse, and took a seat in the corner farthest from the door. The crowd was sparse, and I couldn’t stop hoping that one of the customers would see my predicament and do something to save me.

  Sure, I thought. Keep dreaming!

  Mark came over to the table and sat down, and I saw a look on his face that sent a chill through my body. He eyed me up and down and licked the corner of his mouth with a slimy tongue.

  “So, there’s been a change of plans.”

  He stared at me—waiting.

  “Y—yes?” I asked.

  “I know your dad said you were coming with me tomorrow. But we’ve decided to bump that up to tonight. Seeing as how you turn legal tonight at midnight, I want you to be at the house when that happens—just in case you decide to run off and lose that V-card to some eager boy your age who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  No!

  “B-b-but…I don’t have my things,” I protested. It was the only thing I could think of saying. I glanced around, debating for a moment whether I should throw a fit and hope that someone would help me.

  “I’m rich!” he laughed. “You don’t need any of your things. In fact, I’ll give you all new things so you can dress the way you should be dressing.”

  He leaned forward quickly and took my hand in his. I wanted to pull away, but I was terrified.

  “Don’t look like that,” he grinned. “It’s not going to be that bad. In fact, in time, you’ll learn to love it—to love me.”

  No, I shuddered. That will never happen!

  Chapter Two

  Brooks

  As my Harley roared and blasted down the road towards Mountainside, I couldn’t believe that I was finally going home.

  Well, sort of…but not really.

  I’d never expected to get a letter notifying me of my father’s death. After all, I’d never even known the guy. He gave me up for adoption before I was old enough to remember his face, and I’d been bounced around America’s fantastic (not!) foster system until my eighteenth birthday when I’d set out on my own.

  I’d linked up with a few packs after that before finally settling in with a biker gang called the Iron Nail. They were shifters and welcomed me with open arms. I’d learned to love bikes, the open road and the camaraderie, but then the war came.

  Another gang started antagonizing us over territory and began trying to steal omegas that were already mated up. We tried our best to keep the peace, negotiate and avoid conflict, but the other side wasn’t having it. They wanted blood, so blood is what they got.

  Our side was victorious, but the cost was high. We lost half our crew and the remaining half wanted to hunt down the families of the defeated gang and take care of them too. I wasn’t into that and wanted to set out on my own, so when I got the notice from the government that my father had passe
d, I saw my opportunity.

  He’d left an old house in Mountainside, and as I was his only family (technically) I’d only seen the photos, and was on my way there now to check it out.

  A quiet house in the woods. A nice break from the wild life of an outlaw.

  I took a hard left onto a bumpy road and slowed the bike as I approached the driveway. It was dirt with an old mailbox on the ground next to the rotten wooden post where it had hung.

  Job number one, I thought as I maneuvered the bike up through the trees. As the house came into view, I had to laugh. The photos had made it look a lot better than it was.

  It was a small cape that hadn’t seen a coat of paint in years, the once blue now faded to a tinted gray. The porch was in complete disrepair, several windows were without screens, one of the ones on the top floor was completely boarded up and the yard looked like it was ready to be hayed. But still, I was never one to shy away from a challenge, so I pulled the bike up and parked.

  “So, it’s a fixer-upper,” I joked to myself.

  I hopped off and made my way up to the steps. Thankfully, the front door was still intact and strong. I unlocked it with the key I’d been given and pushed it open. It smelled all right—I didn’t detect any mold—and didn’t hear any water dripping through the ceiling. I tried to imagine my father living in a place like this, but seeing as I didn’t even know what the old man looked like, abandoned the thought all together.

  This is my home now.

  At twenty-nine, after having been through everything I’d been through, I was ready to settle down, find an omega, put a cub in him and start a family. Unlike my father, I’d be there for my son and prove to him (and myself) that real love could exist in a family. But there was one big problem: I had to find an omega!