Omega Reimagined volume 2

by Tanya Chris

  “I should’ve thought of this,” Marta said as she leaned over what Quoitrel now saw was a scale model of North Leland. “Enid made it for me. It was meant to be a piece of art, not a tool of war, but—”

  “But it’ll do,” Enid said firmly.

  “It’ll more than just do.” Quoitrel surveyed it with admiration. “It’s perfect.”

  Around the edges of the model, miniature trees represented the dense forests North Leland was surrounded by—pines to the north, birches to the west. In the center, the palace rose tall and white. The marketplace was laid out in front of it, every stall accounted for, and the residential lanes that spiraled off from town square were so detailed, he swore he could pick out Angel’s house in particular. Enid hadn’t left anything out. Even the brothel was there—the palace’s smaller clone, tucked away on the southern edge of town.

  “Where does the escape tunnel come out?”

  Daisy leaned forward to tap a delicate finger at the base of the scrub oaks the brothel backed onto. “It doesn’t run very far, just enough to get out of sight.”

  Angel tried to use a coaster to mark the spot Daisy had indicated, but the scale was all wrong.

  “We need tiny little soldiers,” Leo joked.

  Marta jerked upright with a flush, as if she’d been doing something wrong. She caught Enid’s eye. “You could, uh…” She inclined her head toward the back of her apartment and Enid scurried away, returning quickly with a shoebox full of figurines. There were humans and wolves amongst the intricately painted figures, but also dragons and orcs and various other creatures Quoitrel hoped wouldn’t be turning up for the actual battle.

  “Did you make these too?” he asked Enid as he examined a beautifully crafted sorceress dressed in a flowing blue gown with long blond hair and fire shooting out of her fingertips.

  “They’re mine,” Marta said. Through her teeth, as if she were forcing the words out. “I order them from a human place, and then I… I paint them.”

  And play with them, Quoitrel realized with a grin he kept to himself. Enid had built Marta a playground for her dolls, and Marta was obviously shy about it, but Quoitrel loved it. It made Marta seem real—not just a formidable personage sitting on a gilded throne dressed in ceremonial robes.

  “So,” Angel said, in a voice that suggested he was trying to hold back a smile too. “Harrod’s troops are here.” He set up a battalion of orcs in the western forest. “And Daisy’s House of Delights is here.” He placed the sorceress in front of the brothel. The figurine was blonder than Daisy, but otherwise it wasn’t a bad match. She had that same beautiful-but-strong thing going on. Quoitrel nuzzled into Daisy’s more variegated locks, stirring up another blast of heat pheromones.

  “That’s you, little one. Throwing fireballs.”

  “I’m going to set fire to their balls,” Daisy said. “But first we have to catch them.”

  Marta and Angel talked strategy, staging the figurines to match their words as they laid out the route Daisy and the others would take through town. Most of their forces would be deployed along the way, hidden from sight but ready to intercede if the enemy alphas seemed to be gaining too quickly. Some of the betas—like Macy and Suki—could be counted on to fight as well as any alpha, but even the omegas could make noise or throw things to cause a temporary distraction.

  Their alpha forces, they assigned to sweep in behind Harrod’s troops and engage with anyone who tried to abort the chase and return to camp. Donovan and Tarek were positioned just outside the brothel to herd the stragglers inside and barricade the door behind them, and Quoitrel was given the plum assignment of waiting inside the brothel with Owen’s alpha mate, Fortis, and Head Alpha Marta herself. The three of them would hold the enemy off until the omegas had made it safely through the tunnel. Then, if all went according to plan, they’d go through the tunnel themselves and Keesh would collapse it behind them, using explosives to trap Harrod’s troops in the brothel.

  “They’re going to make such a mess,” Daisy predicted gloomily. “Just when I got everything so nice, too.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” Quoitrel knew firsthand how much effort Daisy had put into the restoration, but he couldn’t worry about a building when he was so worried about his mate.

  As long as Daisy managed to stay ahead of the pursuing alphas long enough to get into the brothel, Quoitrel would make sure no harm came to him, but he hated that he couldn’t run every step at Daisy’s side. What if the heat made him slow? Or worse, what if it made him willing? What if he stopped running and surrendered himself to his lust and the wolves hungry to take advantage of it? Daisy enjoyed sex work, and Quoitrel enjoyed his enjoyment of it, but neither of them would have an easy time processing a gang rape—and at a time of such high vulnerability too. This plan might be the end of the pack’s woes, but it might also be the start of their own.

  Once the strategy had been fully mapped out, the crowd in Marta’s living room broke up. Macy and Suki left first, taking their teams out to assume their posts. Donovan and Tarek headed straight for the brothel. Without an omega to worry about, they were almost eager to fight.

  Marta took Enid into their bedroom where they could make their goodbyes privately, leaving Angel standing next to Leo with an arm hooked over his shoulder, neither of them speaking. Their shared stoicism might be their final memory of each other, but Quoitrel needed more than that. Though he’d only known Daisy a couple of weeks, he already couldn’t imagine living without him, and the scent of heat rising off him made everything worse. Daisy needed to be protected, not to be sent into the literal mouths of wolves.

  “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

  “You’re the one who’ll be fighting,” Daisy answered without answering. “All I have to do is look pretty. As if I ever don’t.” He struck a pose, cocking a hip and thrusting one bare foot forward, the red claws a reminder of his usually carefully controlled allure. “You know they’ll want me.”

  “Too much.” Quoitrel kept his hands behind his back, because if he grabbed Daisy, he’d never let him go. “Promise you’ll come back to me. Don’t stop and let them…”

  “Hey, now. I’m neither cheap nor easy.” Daisy tossed his head, causing the loose pile of hair on top of it to fall around his shoulders. “Sure, I need a knot, but I don’t need their knots. I’m counting on you to give me a good fuck when this is over, so no unnecessary heroics, Sheriff.” Daisy wagged a slim finger at him, and Quoitrel caught it and sucked it into his mouth. The way Daisy’s eyes glazed over told him how little time they had before his heat incapacitated him, so he reluctantly drew back.

  “Let’s do this,” he said to the people still in the room. “Let’s show those Western Pack wolves that we won’t let might beat right.”

  Chapter 14

  Quoitrel paced in front of Daisy’s desk, narrowly avoiding falling through the open hatchway that dropped down to the escape tunnel. His mind was elsewhere—running through town with a dainty golden-brown omega who bore his mark.

  “Patience,” Marta said. “Focus. And also, stop.” She grinned with that last order. “We don’t want them to catch sight of us until they’re well inside the building.”

  He knew that, of course. It was just… patience and focus were easier said than done. But Marta was his commanding officer, so he drew himself up strong and solid, assuming a position of parade rest as if he were a trained warrior and not a wolf who’d been raised to hope he’d never have to fight.

  Marta cocked her head. Quoitrel couldn’t hear anything yet, but when she took a spot on one side of the office doorway, he took the other, peering cautiously around the wall and into the empty throne room. He could see straight across it to the open doorway on the other side, but he couldn’t hear whatever had her on alert. He first picked up on Daisy’s scent, the musky-sweet odor of heat confirming he was alive and heading toward them, then his voice—a terrified yipping drowned in a cacophony of deeper yowls.

  Quoitrel shuffl
ed his feet anxiously. Daisy was alive, and he was being followed. Their plan had worked that far, but Daisy was nowhere near safe yet. And then, there! Daisy burst through the front door, Owen right behind him, their claws skittering over the marble floor and their yelps echoing off the stone tiles.

  But still Marta held Quoitrel back. For moon’s sake, that was his Daisy out there, flying across the room in a frenzy of uncoordinated movements. Thirty feet behind him, Leo came through the door with a column of big wolves close on his heels. He’d volunteered to take the rear, and his efforts had kept some separation between the smaller omegas and the bulk of the pack, but there was less space between Leo and his pursuers than Quoitrel would’ve liked. The lead alpha was close enough to spring as Leo sprinted toward them.

  Daisy careened into the office in a blur of golden fur, but Quoitrel didn’t have time to evaluate his condition before Marta gave the signal he’d been waiting for. She shifted to wolf form and sprang into the reception room, charging straight past Leo to take down the wolf on his heels. Quoitrel was right behind her. He tackled the next wolf in line, sending him onto his back with the force of his unexpected charge.

  The rest of the marauding pack skittered to a stop, surprised to find themselves face to face with a pair of alphas instead of on the tail of a fleeing omega. Behind them, the front door slammed shut with a solid thunk. The clang of iron against iron drew the attention of the Western Pack warriors closest to the door, but the wolves facing Quoitrel weren’t distracted. One of them feinted at him. He fought it off, keeping to his feet as he heard Fortis call to him from the office.

  There were wolves everywhere now. Some of them were in human form trying to pry the iron door open. Others cased the room, seeking alternate escape routes or jumping for the barred windows. Some were still focused on the omegas. They tried to circle behind him and Marta, aiming for the office where the pretty scents had gone. And a determined handful wanted to fight. However you counted, he and Marta were thoroughly outnumbered.

  He slid closer to her so they could protect each other’s flanks as they worked their way back toward the office, snarling and snapping and making an occasional lunge as if they intended to fight. Quoitrel’s wolf protested at the retreat—wanting to charge forward, not mince back. But his human mind remembered that they weren’t there to fight. They were supposed to make sure the omegas escaped, so that the tunnel could be sealed up behind them.

  On Marta’s signal, he made a last surge forward, driving the menacing horde back a few steps, then raced at her side for the office door.

  “This won’t hold them long,” Fortis warned as they shifted into human form. He braced both arms against the wood to keep it shut while Quoitrel engaged the deadlock. “The whole door’s going to cave in.”

  Heavy bodies slammed one after another against the lightweight door, making the panels bow and the frame crack. Marta brushed Fortis out of the way, applying her greater strength to help Quoitrel withstand the onslaught.

  “Are the omegas out?”

  “Quoitrel.” Daisy’s head popped up through the hatchway, answering the question for her.

  “I thought they were,” Fortis said. “What are you doing?” he asked Daisy. “Follow Owen and Leo. Angel’s waiting for you.”

  “But I need my alpha,” Daisy said in a voice so small it almost broke Quoitrel completely.

  “Everyone out,” Marta ordered. “Fortis, you first. Take Daisy with you.”

  Fortis jumped into the tunnel. He grabbed a resisting Daisy around the waist and dragged him under, out of Quoitrel’s sight but not out of his hearing.

  “Do what Fortis tells you,” Quoitrel called after him, using his alpha voice, though it was thick and maybe too desperate to work. “Be good,” he added, more to himself than to Daisy.

  The door cracked, a chunk of wood exploding inward. A set of dark wolf eyes peered through it until Marta slammed her fist into the snout between them. The face disappeared with a howl.

  “Your turn,” she said to Quoitrel with a nod at the tunnel.

  “You can’t do this alone.” The lock had given up, the doorjamb shredded around it. Nothing stood between them and Harrod’s warriors except a disintegrating slab of wood and their combined strength holding it in place.

  “That was an order, not a request. Go.” She bumped him out of the way, stationing herself in the center of the failing door. “I’m right behind you,” she added in a more egalitarian tone. “The faster you’re out of here, the faster I can be too.”

  He dove for the escape hatch just as the door gave way in a burst of shrapnel. He ducked into the tunnel to escape the flying shards, then popped up again to see an influx of wolves overrunning the office.

  “Go,” Marta growled, and then she was a wolf again, unable to speak. Quoitrel was caught between her last command and the instinctive urge to fight alongside her, but Daisy’s vulnerable I need my alpha called loudest of all. The scent of ripe omega—his ripe omega—floated through the tunnel.

  He shifted, the faster to run, and scurried through the passageway, which was so dark even his wolf eyes couldn’t see. Only Daisy’s scent and the brush of dirt against his fur kept him oriented, while the sound of paws behind him motivated him to run faster. Hopefully that was Marta back there, but even if it was, she wasn’t alone. Alpha pheromones flooded the tunnel, overwhelming the smell of omega.

  He burst out of the tunnel to find Angel standing guard over the exit, his pale skin eerily white in the glow of moonlight.

  “Marta?”

  But Quoitrel didn’t have time to shift and explain before another wolf leaped from the tunnel. It wasn’t Marta, and it wasn’t alone. Two more wolves jumped up behind the first one.

  “Keesh,” Angel barked. “Let’s get this tunnel sealed off before their whole fucking pack comes through it.”

  Leo and Fortis shifted into wolf form to confront the alphas in their midst. They circled the enemy wolves, taking quick nips then dancing away, trying to use their speed to overcome their opponents’ bulk. Quoitrel needed to help, but not until he knew Marta was safe. He shifted into human form and grabbed Keesh by the arm to stop him from activating the detonator.

  “Your mother’s still in there,” he reminded Angel, but even as he did, two more Western Pack alphas jumped out of the tunnel

  “Do it,” Angel insisted, before shifting to take on the new arrivals.

  Overruled, Quoitrel released Keesh’s arm. Keesh depressed the plunger, and a muffled bang was followed by the whump of hundreds of tons of dirt collapsing. Nobody else could come through the tunnel now, but they still had to deal with the wolves who already had.

  Thank the moon for how hard Angel and Leo had trained in the last few years, because they were unstoppable, especially when they worked together. And though Quoitrel’s job had never required him to kill—only to contain—the thought of these brutes chasing Daisy made fighting them instinctive. He didn’t even know where Daisy was thanks to these fucking assholes, and the quicker he dispensed with them, the sooner he could get to what he ought to be doing, which was taking care of his heat-wracked omega.

  He made a final, ferocious lunge that left his opponent bleeding onto the snow, then looked around for another enemy to tackle, only to discover they’d all been taken down. Donovan came scurrying through the woods just in time for it all be over, and Quoitrel set him to handcuffing anyone still capable of moving. Then he went in search of Daisy, his nose leading him unerringly to the base of a tree where he found him huddled in Owen’s arms.

  “He’s bad,” Owen said as he released Daisy to him.

  Quoitrel held his omega at arm’s length so he could evaluate him for damage. Daisy was whole but a wreck, the complete opposite of the first time Quoitrel saw him. Unadorned and undressed, his hair a wild tangle, his face dirty and streaked with sweat, his expression artless. But still so incredibly beautiful. Quoitrel stopped trying to resist Daisy’s need to burrow. He opened his arms wide and took h
im in.

  “How many of them did we capture?” he heard Angel ask.

  It was Tarek who answered. “We couldn’t count them, they came so fast, but I’d say twenty-five to thirty. Including Head Alpha Harrod himself.”

  “Sweet!” Fortis and Keesh high-fived each other, but even though Quoitrel was excited about eliminating so much of the Western Pack’s fighting force—and excited in a different but unavoidable way by the heat-drenched omega in his arms—he couldn’t forget that they’d left Marta behind. He steered himself over to Angel with Daisy glued firmly to his side.

  “How do we rescue your mother?”

  “She’s dead,” Angel said with a quick shake of his head. “No Western Pack alpha would’ve made it through that tunnel if she were alive to stop them.”

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve—”

  “You should’ve done exactly what you did, which was obey orders. I told you Marta was prepared to die. I’m not surprised she managed to do it. She was our only casualty, which is exactly how she would’ve wanted it.”

  Leo appeared at Angel’s side. He was streaked with blood, and his thick braid bristled with broken strands, but he wrapped his arm around Angel, lending support Angel hadn’t asked for. Angel turned his nose into Leo’s neck as Daisy started trying to climb Quoitrel’s body.

  Quoitrel lifted him so Daisy could straddle his cock, which was embarrassingly hard. He couldn’t help it. Wolves were notoriously turned on by adrenalin to begin with, and Daisy was in heat, smelling like Daisy-supercharged and trying to rub himself up and down Quoitrel’s body.

  Angel put a hand on Daisy’s shoulder, and Daisy jerked away as if Angel was contaminated with Red Canine Plague.

  “Sorry,” Quoitrel said. “He didn’t mean that. He’s just—”

  “I know. I shouldn’t have touched him. I just wanted to tell him how much we appreciate his service. And yours too,” Angel said, turning to Owen who was firmly sandwiched between Fortis and Keesh and starting to smell like the chase might be kicking him into heat too. “Now get those omegas home. Take care of them. We can manage the cleanup effort without you.”