by V T Bonds
Unbalanced Omega
Alpha Elite Book 3
V.T. Bonds
Copyright © 2020 by V.T. Bonds
Cover design by V.T. Bonds
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 979-8-6873-7074-5
*This story is not for the faint of heart. It is a dark action-packed Omegaverse story set in a world where violence and sexual situations occur. Scenes are not glossed over. Sensitive readers please abstain. Proceed with caution.*
Dedication
To those who are brave – Remember the fear. Let it motivate you. Every time I sit to write, I battle too many doubts and terrors to name, including the fear of never writing a decent sentence again. Yet here I am, another book complete. Why? Because I use that fear. You can’t be brave without fear. So, remember the fear but keep your focus on overcoming the obstacle in front of you. You’ve got this. One step at a time.
Emily Zisman – I’m honored to have you in my life. Thank you for every moment you’ve dedicated to my work and myself. You’re a gem.
My ARC Team — You jumped in and refuse to quit! Thank you for being so truthful in your feedback and reviews. I can’t ever thank you enough.
Chapter One
Shya
I’m tired of crying. I cry and cry, but nothing changes.
My tummy hurts. So does my head. And my arms. Wait, everything hurts. I don’t want to hurt anymore.
Maybe if I stop crying, I can feel better, and then I won’t need to cry anymore.
But it hurts, so I can’t stop crying.
They won’t let me out of the bed. I don’t like the weird sounds around me, and the thingies in my arms are scary. I took them out before, when I woke up the first time, because I was scared and wanted them gone, but when I pulled them loose my blood went everywhere and I started crying harder. It was scary.
It doesn’t matter now. They put me back in the bed, strapped me down, cleaned my arms, and put the scary things back in. I don’t want them in anymore, but I don’t want to see my blood again either.
Maybe if I stop crying, they’ll take them out and let me get up. This bed isn’t comfortable. I think it’s making me hurt worse.
Maybe if he came back, everything would get better. I don’t know what he looks like, but I know he’s big and strong but gentle and loving.
He left, but I don’t remember when. I just remember he cared for me, coaxed me to stay alive, and loves me.
I want him back. More tears leak from my eyes as the silence in my heart seems to echo in my body. I miss him.
The door opens, the soft swish a noise I’ve been dreading and yet waiting for. I suck in my next sob, blinking fast to try to make my eyes stop leaking. Looking toward the door, I fight a fresh wave of tears.
Everything here is either white or grey. I hate it. I miss the colorful sky, the sunlight glinting off tall buildings, and the bright clothing everyone wore. Nothing here is colorful.
A woman carries in a tray, and I swallow the sob rising in my throat. She’s a vision of drabness. White tray, tights, and buttons. Grey surgical cap, dress, and shoes. Even her skin seems grey under the ugly lighting. My chest aches with the effort of holding in my sobs, but I want to get out of the bed, and I don’t think they’ll untie me if I’m still crying.
She doesn’t even look at my face. After setting the tray on a stand by my feet, she checks the machinery surrounding me. Before I can understand what’s happening, she flips the sheet off my right leg, grabs something off the tray, and shoves it against my inner ankle. A million monsters with razor sharp teeth bite into my veins.
I scream and plead, hating every second she holds the device to my skin. She ignores me, watching the monitor beside my head. When she pulls it away, there’s no relief. Her cold glove rubs my leg too hard, and I squeeze my eyes closed so I don’t have to see her mean face.
I’m so alone.
No one wants me.
I miss the Alpha I’ve never met. He was nice, but he’s gone.
A memory pops up, my first one since I’ve woken in this scary place. My mother’s conflicted eyes fill my mind, her pain and sorrow mixing with her joy and love. She carried that expression every day after my father died.
I miss her. I love her.
The restraints hold me in place, so I can’t get away from the mean lady.
I do the only other thing I can.
I call out for my mommy, sad and scared, thrashing on the bed.
Deep in my heart, I know I’ll never see her again.
Chapter Two
Nova
This has to stop. There must be an end, right? I clutch the pillow closer to my chest, willing the pain to cease. Kwame told me to wait, and I have been, no matter how terrifying and agonizing it has been. Every lock on our den door is engaged but worry and agitation flow through me.
Seeck’s unhappiness flows into my heart, and I push right back, giving him more of my angst than I know I should.
I should be stoic and calm for him, but the suddenness of his departure still claws at my bones, and I’m finding a bottomless barrel of anger in my marrow.
He’d told me there was nothing certain about this mission, and I’d understood. After giving me a brief lesson on the Sky-Flyer’s interface and running through my part of the plan almost a hundred times, he’d said goodbye with a soul-shattering kiss.
That time apart hadn’t felt good, but there had been a plan in place. We’d kept in check with each other through the link, and when he came back, whole and healthy, I’d been relieved.
Then chaos had taken hold, and he’d left again. Too much happened in such a short span of time. I’m still reeling from it.
Injecting the Omegas had been terrifying, the experience something I never thought I’d have to endure. The medical equipment was easy enough to fumble through, but hurting a woman I’d never met before?
I hated it. Even after they’d calmed down and sunk into sleep, my stomach hurt from the stress.
Leaving them to rest, I’d paced in the cockpit, fretting at every strange panel and button, worrying I’d destroy everything with my ignorance. All that time, Seeck had cut communication with me. Even after Kwame came out and explained the blinking light on the control panel, Seeck’s absence left me full of despair.
During that experience, every slight he’s never verbally apologized for resurfaced. He’s sorry, I know he is, I feel it every moment, the discomfort a tight ball in the recesses of his soul. Although he’s trying to make up for it with his actions, he’s never apologized for throwing me across the alley. Never asked forgiveness for stealing my first orgasm from me. Never said he’s sorry for treating me like a scorpion under his sandal when we first met.
I thought I’d forgiven him. Thought these emotions were gone, swept away by the beauty of our joining and excitement for the future.
Right now, I don’t feel very forgiving. My stomach hurts, my heart feels torn into tiny pieces, and my joints ache as though I’m back in the desert, days away from starvation.
Cramming the pillow into my face, I fill my lungs with his residual scent. Turning on my heel, my feet carry me diagonally across the room until I reach the other corner. I pivot again, retracing my steps for what feels like the millionth time.
He needs to come back. Right now.
This pain must end. My skin itches, and my sinuses burn, making me rub my cheek on the pillow, attempting to c
oax more of his smell out. It doesn’t work. Tossing the pillow onto the empty nest, I yank out the filthiest blanket. The dried spots should disgust me, but I can’t stop myself from gathering them under my nose. We didn’t soak it near enough, since Seeck demands we consume most of it. A blush warms my cheeks as I remember his tongue between my legs. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders, equal parts aroused and angry.
I resume my pacing, listening for any new sounds throughout the ship. When the silence drags on, I push my aggravation to Seeck, uncaring as to how it may affect him.
I’ve felt pain before. My skin tells the story of the miserable life I lived before I met these men, but never have I felt so… so wrong before. Nothing feels right.
My anger builds to fury, the agony in my soul shredding my intellectual thoughts. By the time foreign noises start filtering into my ears, a feral beast has stolen into my body.
Even my first heat was easier to manage.
Because Seeck was there. He made everything okay.
I sense his attempts to soothe me through our link, but nothing sways me. Only one thing will calm me now, and it better happen soon, otherwise I’ll ignore Kwame’s order and fling the door open and rampage until I find my mate.
Footsteps in the hall draw my attention, but I can’t break my feet's rhythm. The last time I did, I almost started unlocking the door. Forcing my legs to resume their track when a feminine voice rang through the hall had taken monumental effort.
Latches pop open, mechanisms turn, then Seeck’s voice filters through the door.
“Nova, unlock the door the rest of the way. I can’t get in unless you open it, my little Omega.”
Lunging halfway across the room, my fingers wrap around the lowest internal lock. Their shaking conveys the torrential emotions ravaging my insides.
A strange calm passes through me as I scan my thumb, deactivating the top lock. Rational thought hovers out of reach, instincts and anger ruling me.
Keeping both palms wrapped around the doorknob, I swing it wide.
Massive shoulders fill the frame as the most delicious fragrance fills my nostrils, increasing my frenzy.
Using every ounce of fury, strength, and bodyweight I possess, I slam the door back toward him. The doorknob cracks against his hip, his grunt of surprise and pain pulling a wicked smirk from my lips.
Strong digits wrap around the edge of the door, and as he slowly reopens it, the flames in his eyes promise retribution. In the same slow, calculated manner, he steps forward and crowds my space, but doesn’t reach out to touch me.
This inflames my fury further. I stand my ground, forcing him to step sideways so he can close the door. As soon as the latch clicks, his arm reaches back and begins locking the door. Watching the skill of his fingers as he stares at me causes wetness to seep from my core.
His eyes soften as he inhales, but his palm on my cheek doesn’t calm me.
It breaks the rigidity of my muscles. My raging beast unleashes, and I slap his arm away before aiming for his eyes.
The ease with which he deflects my strikes enrages me further. I need to hurt him, need to show him how it feels to be mistreated.
Even after swinging several times and only landing one punch on his hard abs, I don’t relent. I can’t relent. Each failed attempt to hurt him makes me wilder, until the crack of my palm against his face rings through the room.
Reality snaps into me, shame dampening my righteous anger. As my handprint forms on his temple and cheek, I freeze, equal parts horror, despair, and vindication rising in me. His hands trap my wrists in the air, the curl of his lip displaying his displeasure.
Tears flow down my face, but I cannot claim the desire to apologize. When he transfers my right wrist to join my left in one of his unrelenting hands, I snarl and drop my weight, hoping to catch him unprepared.
I know its foolhardy, but the cacophony of emotions won’t loosen their hold. Yanking my arms down, I lift my knee and aim between his legs. Before I make contact, he twists his hips, bends, and hooks his left elbow under my knee. When he stands to his full height, my free foot leaves the ground as he raises and bends his elbow, trapping my knee in the crook of his arm. My clit rubs against his front, the outline of his cock displaying how rigid he’s become. I wrap my other leg around his hips and crush my core to him, my slick soaking through my pants and wetting his shirt.
Too far gone for words, I writhe against him and keep trying to tug my wrists free. When he lifts my arms above my head, the firm set of his lips and consternation in his eyes makes me snarl. I lunge forward and sink my teeth into his shoulder, intending to maim and claim him all over again.
As his flavor bursts on my tongue, our bond flashes a bright white, scorching my senses. The fury leading me pauses at the beauty of our connection, allowing other needs to roll in. Arousal swamps my senses, and my struggles change. I tighten my legs around him, trapping his arm to his torso, and gyrate my hips, torturing us both with the insufficient friction.
His growl fills the air, and slick bursts from me, making my pants slip against my clit and mini stars burst in my vision. I suck his wound, grinding my teeth together, rubbing my breasts against his hard chest, too lost for control.
My free hands tug and yank his hair, scrape his scalp, and gouge his nape, holding him close and marking him with their sharpness.
His trapped arm moves and twists until his fingers dig into my opposite hip, the heat of his forearm permeating the back of my thigh and ass, despite the barrier of my clothing. Massive digits wrap around my neck as his palm rests on my nape, the possession in his touch easing a portion of my distress. When his fingertips dig into the front of my throat, my growl joins his, the sound full of warning. It may not be as robust and deep as his, but the fierce power of my emotions flow within, and our bond pulses. He’s woven into my soul, and I his, our communication opening fully for the first time in too long.
Tightening my jaw and swirling my tongue on the flesh trapped in my mouth, I send the full scope of my emotions through the link.
He accepts them, letting them knit in and around his soul, taking responsibilities for his atrocious acts without hesitation. His growl morphs to a purr, even as his fingers tighten on my flesh. Motion makes my stomach dip as he twirls around, a cold, solid surface pressing against my back.
Before I can react, his hands leave me, his weight pressing me into the door my only restraint. He slides his arm out from my gripping leg, until I’m straddling him, wriggling against his clothed cock.
Pressure on my scalp is the only warning I get before he fists my hair and squeezes, pain running along my nerves until it gathers in my center.
His deep purr dances with my growl, but my threat rings hollow.
I need this. Desperately.
“Remember the first thing I warned you of, Nova?”
Memory washes through me, and I recall sand and misery mingled with pain and shock. A tarp, five Alphas, a foreign meal, and a warning.
“Do not challenge me until you’re ready to follow through. You still have every right to feel these emotions, but attacking me, aiming for areas you should never threaten, will always bring consequences. You’ve challenged me. I’m following through.”
The vibrations of his voice tremor into my teeth, the sensual timbre blooming in my core and relaxing my jaw.
I’m so distracted by his delicious words I close my eyes and soften my bite further.
When he yanks my hair, he slips from my mouth without further injury. Keeping his fist in my hair, he wraps his other arm around my butt and walks across the room. I hear a chair scraping along the floor before his rough hands make their way to mine, wrenching my wrists until my nails leave his nape.
Snarling and fighting, I stand no chance. He wraps one hand around my wrists and leans forward until I’m trapped between his torso and the table. With a quick jerk, he stretches my arms above my head and pins them against the table. Using his free hand, he peels my right leg off his
hip and immobilizes it by pressing it to the edge of the table with his thigh.
Stretched out as I am, my fighting becomes wriggling, and the diabolical expression on his face adds fuel to the arousal coursing through me. His flaming hair and bright eyes crash into my thoughts, the stern set of his lips wreaking havoc on my sensibilities.
Tears leak down my temples, the tangle of emotions loosening behind my sternum. He unhooks my left leg and traps it with the other before releasing my hands and ripping my shirt down the front.
As cool air flows over my breasts, I claw at his arms, but he pulls my shirt away as though I pose no resistance. His unrelenting hands attack my pants, undoing the belt, button, and zipper, and tugging them halfway down my thighs before I can dig my nails into his forearms.
Crimson droplets pearl around my fingertips, and a gasp cuts my pathetic growl short as he reaches between my squished legs and pinches my clit.
Explosions burst throughout my nerves, the sensation a glorious mix of agony and arousal. With the pads of his finger and thumb holding my sensitive nub hostage, he pulls my attention to his face by wrapping his hand around my throat and framing my jaw with the edge of his thumb and pointer finger.
“I will never hit you, not as punishment. You’ve had too much of that in your life already, but I will give you what you need. You must understand, I need you too much to lose you, and if you push me too far, I fear I’ll snap. We are animals in the end, no matter what else we try to be.”
Warm fluid travels down my fingers, and the scent of his blood mixed with his gravelly voice and dominating hands overwhelms me. Although his taste still lingers on my tongue, I pull my right fingernails out of his skin and bring them to my mouth, licking and sucking his blood off with voracious delight.
His growl sends shivers down my spine, and the slide of his fingers as he grinds them together over my clit causes lightning to shoot into my body. Mini contractions in my womb steal my attention, and as I return my focus outward, I realize I’ve stuck my pointer and middle finger between my back teeth, my lips stretched to the side and gasping breath running over my neglected digits. With his hand tight on my throat, he releases my clit, my whine portraying my unhappiness, but he shucks my pants the rest of the way off and forces my knees apart with his hips. The sound of his pants unzipping causes slick to puddle under me, and equal parts need and apprehension soar through me.
