Unbalanced Omega (Alpha Elite Series Book 3)

by V T Bonds

Alpha Elites followed orders—we accomplished many appalling things before someone in Command sabotaged us.

  We’ve broken that cycle. Command has no hold over us, but I’m still one of the most deadly beings on the planet.

  I refuse to let my bad deeds ruin what’s between us.

  Taking her hand as though she’s made of glass, I escort her to the bed’s edge.

  Her eyes widen in delight as she takes in the mound of pillows and blankets, and she smiles up at me with true joy.

  I let go of her hand, watching as she sinks down into the bare pit and starts sorting through the materials.

  I stand in awe for a moment, enraptured by her beautiful curves and elegant, purposeful movements. When I know she’s engrossed in her task, I rush to the wardrobe and strip. Ignoring my hard cock, I pull out clean underwear, shove my legs in, and yank them up. I contemplate putting on a shirt but decide against it. I can’t deny myself the comfort of skin on skin contact, not after we’ve shared such a myriad of tremendous emotions in such a short time.

  Closing the wardrobe and tossing my wet clothes in the proper chute, I stalk to the bed, too eager to watch her at work to linger elsewhere.

  Beautiful. Innocent. Perfect.

  She’s perfect.

  She stacks, fluffs, layers, and folds with such precision and purpose I can’t imagine anything more precious or arousing. My heart bursts with satisfaction, and I send her my happiness via my purr and our partial bond.

  A smile ghosts her lips, but she ignores me, focused on building a perfect nest. When she tucks herself away inside and lays still for a moment, I freeze, worried she won’t invite me in.

  Her tiny fingers part the top layer from the bottom, and she folds it in a tidy line, revealing almost half of the lower layer. She crawls to the pillows in the exposed corner, tucking her knees to her chest, and motions for me to enter. The shirt I dressed her in doesn’t have to stretch much to accommodate her legs, and the loose neckline slips off one shoulder.

  I gulp down my desire, demanding it heed my commands, and step down into the nest. Keeping my focus trained on her, I let her silently instruct me where to lay. Once I’m on my back in the middle of the bed, a bundle of negative emotions roll through our link, so I snap my gaze to hers, just in time to see her lower lip quiver before she tucks it between her teeth.

  “What’s wrong, Shya?” I ask, my voice little more than a rumble.

  “I made it wrong. It’s too little for you,” she says through a voice tight with unshed tears.

  Incredulous, I make a show of stretching, being careful to keep the nest intact, and sigh in pleasure as I settle back in place.

  “Little One, this bed is too little, not your nest. Your nest is perfect. I’ve never been so comfortable.”

  Part praise, part truth, none of my words are a lie.

  “Really?” she asks, her shy insecurity unfeigned.

  “Yes, love. Now come join me and make my biggest dream come true. I’ve waited for this moment for too long. Come in, my little Omega, and lay with me for a while.”

  “Just lay with you?”

  “For a while, yes. Just lay and rest.”

  “Cuddle?”

  “Yes, cuddle.”

  “But you have no clothes on.”

  “We both have more clothes than we need.”

  Quiet settles over us as she contemplates my words.

  I can’t help but speak the simple truth.

  “I need your cuddles, just like I needed you to fix my cut. My heart hurts without you.”

  The breath whooshes out of her lungs after a short inhale, then she crawls to me. Tucking her front to my side, she meticulously spreads the top blanket over us. After a moment, she wriggles closer, but doesn’t seem satisfied.

  “Dirk?”

  “Yes, Shya?”

  “Can I lay on your chest?”

  “Please,” is all I can manage, her timid question almost splitting my heart in two. I lift my arm to create a tent out of our nest, giving her room to move around without destroying her hard work. She slides onto my chest, a little awkward since she’s careful to keep the shirt between us, but sighs in relief when she rests her cheek on my bare pec. She lays her ear over my heart, and I feel her lips tilt in a smile.

  I rumble my contentment, letting her decide how she wants to lay, and ball my hands into fists. She keeps one leg extended on top of mine and lets the other wrap around my hip, resting her knee on the bed.

  Even with the shirt and waistband of my boxer briefs between us, our closeness tests my restraint. There’s distance between my clothed cock and her womanhood, but it wouldn’t take much to erase it.

  This moment isn’t for sexual pleasure, though. It’s for something far more epic than I thought possible.

  Emotional and spiritual comfort and healing. As she drifts to sleep, my worries and stress float away, leaving in the wake of her presence. I’ve never felt so relaxed or whole, my entire life up until now centered around the next mission or next hurdle to clear. With her finally in my arms, I find peace unlike any I’ve ever experienced.

  Without the responsibilities of the world crushing my shoulders, I glory in the weight her tiny body exerts on me, keeping me grounded in the moment.

  I purr and stroke her back, letting my consciousness follow hers into restful sleep.

  My Omega is here, and she’s fixed me in more ways than I could have imagined.

  She’s given me love I never expected to receive.

  Claiming her will be worth every moment of self-denial.

  Chapter Ten

  Vander

  Compartmentalize. Prioritize. Visualize. Attack.

  These are the steps that have gotten me through life. These are the things I must do.

  Except something isn’t right.

  The process I’ve used for years isn’t working. Every technique I’ve tried has failed.

  And I can’t figure out why.

  I’ve begun the process several times but haven’t been able to complete a single task for over an hour.

  Compartmentalize? As soon as I think I have everything in its proper place, something snaps and new items litter my thoughts.

  Prioritize? I have one thing set firmly in place. My teammates’ and their Omegas’ lives sit in top priority. Our safety and health matter most. Except, after that, things go all screwy. One moment, completing this mission holds second place, the next, finding my Omega shoves its way in.

  Yet, at other times, I don’t have an Omega. I remember her, feel her taunting me and see her leading us on a chase through those horrid halls, but she isn’t mine. There’s no bond between us.

  Fuck, if I don’t get my head out of my ass, this mission will fail, and I’ll kill everyone on this Sky-Flyer.

  Checking speed, altitude, and location, I flip a few switches on the console before standing and stretching my legs. Peering out the windows, I roll my shoulders and give myself an internal pep talk.

  A cloud of fury prefaces Jumoke’s entrance into the room.

  “Go back to your den and strap in. It’s almost time,” I snarl, a little surprised to see him here and a lot not ready to deal with his mood.

  “I can’t. She locked me out,” he snaps back, plopping into the co-pilot’s chair and running his fingers through his hair.

  I bark a laugh, unable to stop the reaction.

  “Shut up, old man,” he warns, his anger a palpable thing.

  “Well then, I guess that means she’s in fighting order. Did you warn her to buckle in?” I ask, unwilling to resist poking his wounded ego.

  He scowls, grinds his teeth, then huffs before he surges to his feet.

  “Damn it.”

  The cloud of rage shifts closer to the door, but he stops before leaving the room. He balls his hands into fists and shakes them loose several times, staring out into the hall, and I take the moment to check his psyche.

  Yup, the fury goes soul deep. So does confusion, worry, and sexual
frustration.

  Poor young fool, too rash to control his emotions.

  He pivots his neck, halfway turning toward me, his mouth opening as though he plans to say something. His face tightens and he closes his mouth, stomping from the room without saying another word.

  My smirk feels hollow. Omega trouble is nothing to make light of, but in order to keep my sanity, I’d rather push Jumoke’s buttons.

  Turning to the console, I check our location. I’ll need to take manual control within ten minutes but have enough time to make the rounds. I leave the cockpit, making my way down the hall until I reach the room we set up as a holding bay. I stand in the shadows of the hallway, watching the three Omegas commiserate in their own way, sitting strapped in the three chairs at the far end of the room. Kwame sits near the door, his hand engulfing Britani’s, the rope braided in her hair wrapped around his wrist. On Britani’s other side, the Beta I carried in from the extraction rocks back and forth, one arm wrapped around her middle while the other flails about, punctuating the last word in each of her sentences. She’s making more sense than she was when we first met, but still rattles off nonsense I can’t comprehend. Britani listens, seeming to understand more than I, for she responds in a way the Beta seems to enjoy. When Britani lays a hand on the woman’s forearm and asks a question, the Beta’s eyes focus for the first time since I pulled her from her captor’s dead arms.

  She looks to Britani and smiles before resuming her tirade.

  Numbers. Most of her words consist of numbers, but not in any way that makes sense to me.

  Britani has her attention.

  Britani also has Kwame’s attention.

  Before my mind can sprint down the lifemate rabbit hole, I head towards the medical bay.

  The female Alpha sleeps with the emaciated Omega glued to her side, their restraint release lever clasped in her hand. I step into the room, expecting them to stay sound asleep, but the Alpha’s eyes pop open despite my stealthy steps.

  “Things will get bumpy soon. You should drop the release, so you don’t accidentally pull it.”

  She looks at me with wary eyes, but when I don’t move closer she nods and loosens her hold, letting it slip from her fingers.

  I nod back then leave the room. Seeck and Nova were supposed to be in there, but I sense the female Alpha’s need for space. Nova most likely picked up on it too and made Seeck leave. It probably didn’t take much to convince him to go back to their den.

  Sure enough, sounds of coupling vibrate through their door as I pass.

  I hear Jumoke’s exasperated voice bouncing around the corner, his and my rooms down the other hallway. I shake my head and lighten my steps, making sure he can’t hear me.

  I stop at Dirk’s door, focusing on the noises within. When I hear nothing but Dirk’s snoring, I decide to not bother them. I reminded Dirk to strap in, and I doubt he’d forget, especially if his Omega’s safety is on the line.

  Hearing Jumoke begin stomping my way, I speed back to the cockpit, turning corners a hairsbreadth before he turns into the halls I leave.

  He strides into the cockpit as I snap my restraints into place. Before he can plop down into a seat, I raise my eyebrow at him.

  “How’d she take it?” I inquire, ready for him to retaliate.

  “She needed step by step instructions on where to find a buckle. Fucking hell, she’s so fucking formal I feel like I’m pulling teeth every time she speaks!” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before more words spill from his mouth.

  “And she refused to use the bed. Wouldn’t use the most comfortable place in my den, instead demanded I tell her how to prepare the chair for turbulence. Well, I hope the stick up her ass gives her as much discomfort as that stiff chair. Goddamnit, this is stupid as hell,” he snarls, a tornado of emotions swirling around him.

  “Do you want me to murder you?” I ask, rage overtaking my common sense. I know he’s talking out of frustration, but I’ll beat the shit out of him if he keeps saying dumb things.

  “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Seeck. Get your shit together, or I’ll bury you in the sand and leave you there. Talk like that about your lifemate again and I’ll castrate you,” I promise, my growl filling the room.

  He growls too, but more at the injustice of the situation. Doesn’t matter why he’s growling, my hackles rise, and I prepare to give him a smack down.

  “Good to know you have my back, old man. You’re such a great listener,” he quips, refusing to acknowledge my threat.

  He’s referring to our recent conversations. We’ve had a silent war between us since we first infiltrated the facility holding our Omega’s hostage. His electronic findings point to an antagonist I refuse to believe is haunting us.

  My hackles rise higher, but our coordinates catch my attention and I pull my aggravation close, cramming it into a box and shutting it away for later.

  “Strap in, asswipe. Time to get serious,” I snarl, leaning over and smacking the back of his head when he turns to grab his seatbelt.

  “Damn it, Vander!” he huffs, clicking his belt into place and rubbing the back of his head.

  “You know you deserve worse. Get your head on straight, or we’ll all suffer.”

  I straighten in my seat and switch to manual pilot, grabbing the controls and focusing out the windshield.

  We enter a cloud of sand caused by constantly colliding currents—an eternal battle of the elements. The Sky-Flyer jerks up and down, the winds battering the hull in incalculable ways, but I keep my hands relaxed on the controls and my mind focused on our goal.

  After struggling through swarming winds for several minutes, a dark shape forms in our path. As we near it, jagged rocks and barren mountainside become visible. Ignoring the blaring alarms on the control panel, I aim for a lighter section between two peaks. A harsh gust threatens to throw us off course, but I adjust accordingly and thread the needle, the Sky-Flyer dashing through a break in the mountain range.

  To go over the ridge would mean destruction—the pressure of the western wind would have the same impact as hitting the mountains themselves.

  As the tumultuous gales whip around our aircraft, I keep steady, swapping my attention between our global positioning and the windshield. We settle into silence, Jumoke using common sense for once and allowing me to focus on the mission.

  For now, I let my issues fade away so I can get us to our destination.

  Only a little while longer.

  Chapter Eleven

  Shya

  The peaceful beauty of dreamland fades into weightlessness, and the warmth at my front fades away.

  I snap awake with a squeak as the sensation of falling hurtles through my belly.

  Heat wraps around my back as my Alpha catches me in midair, plastering our fronts together. A masculine grunt fills my ears as we bounce onto the bed, my head hitting his rock-hard chest with a thump.

  I cling to him as he curses, one of his massive arms leaving me to reach for something. He pulls a net-like thing over my ruined nest, attaching it to the opposite side of the inset bed and pulling a cord until we’re held tightly to the mattress.

  I cringe as a strange noise rings through the room, and despite the closeness of my Alpha, I whimper.

  “Sorry, Shya. I forgot to strap us in, even though I knew we’d have some turbulence. Hush, Little One, I have you.”

  “What was that noise?”

  “The things we left on the table falling to the floor.”

  “Oh.”

  The sensation of falling has me clutching him with my whole body—my arms wrap around his chest and my thighs squeeze his hips.

  The net holds us in place, but the entire room dips and sways, and I hate it. Each moment of uncertainty causes fear to course through me, and I press my throbbing ear against his chest to be closer to his purr. My terror sweeps away all logical thought until all I can think about is wanting it to end.

  “M-make it stop. I feel sick!” I compla
in.

  “Sorry, baby girl. Only a little while longer. Relax, I won’t let anything hurt you,” his deep baritone voice washes into my stomach, relieving a bit of my upset.

  “More please?” I manage, swallowing the spit that keeps filling my mouth.

  He coos in his rich voice, but I don’t care about the words. I love any vibration from his chest. I could listen to him every second for the rest of my life and never get tired of it.

  The wild ride slows, and my nausea starts to go away. I take little sips of air, his scent too wonderful to take in big gulps, especially when my tummy hurts so much.

  I feel safe with him. When I got this way in the white room, everyone always hurt me. Now I have a safe place to let my fears go. He’ll protect me so I don’t have to worry anymore.

  True to his word, he gives me everything I need until my stomach stops churning and my fear recedes.

  As though rising from a fog, I take in my surroundings. My nest still covers my lower half and his arm wraps around my back, but the net crisscrosses over my head and shoulders, one bared from the overly large shirt, holding me down. His heart pounds sure and steady under my ear, audible even through his rapturous purr.

  Fabric separates our torsos, but his heat still seeps through, threatening to scorch me even with the barrier.

  A spark flares in my abdomen as I realize my thighs rest against his bare waist, my shirt out of place. My calves pinch his clad hips, but my ankles and feet press below his underwear, touching bare skin.

  My intimates rest on his waistband, millimeters away from making contact with his lower abdomen.

  My body wants to shift and rub my needy parts against him.

  I want to as well, but memory and caution keep me still.

  Every time someone has touched me intimately, I’ve lost control of myself.

  Another need makes itself known, my nausea no longer stealing my attention.

  “I need the relief port.”

  “Can you wait a few more minutes? We’re still at high altitude. Might be best to wait until we lower. There could still be turbulence,” he explains.

  I nod, hopeful I can keep my body still for a little while longer. The temptation of his flesh grows with each heartbeat, his deep purr and wild scent adding fuel to the desire igniting in my abdomen.