Feral Omega: A Dark Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance (Ghost Alpha Unit Book 1)

The solid metal reinforced doors of the Refinement Center groan as I push them open. Sunlight spills in behind me, my broad shadow stretching long across the polished marble floor. I step inside, breathing in the mix of lavender polish and something else.

The intoxicating scent of omegas.

Glad I came alone. Whiskey would already be panting like a dog straining at his leash. And Wraith… no telling how he’d react, surrounded by this many omegas when I’m all but certain he’s never even encountered one.

Talk about a bull in a china shop situation.

As my eyes adjust to the dimmer light, I take in my surroundings. Gothic arches soar overhead, dark wood paneling lining the walls. Lush woven rugs muffle my footsteps. More like a damn mansion than any school I’ve seen.

Omegas in crisp grey uniforms scurry to and fro, darting glances my way—some curious, some wary, a few brazenly appraising. I keep my face impassive behind my skull mask, but their combined scent is like a drug, clouding my thoughts. I shake my head roughly.

Focus, damn it.

A severe-looking woman who smells like a beta approaches, her heels clicking sharply, gray hair pulled back in a tight bun. She looks me up and down, pursing her thin lips.

‘Emilia Thorton, Headmistress,’ she says, shaking my hand. Her fingers are cold, bony. ‘You must be Thane Hargrove. Here for your… assignment.’ Her tone drips with disdain. ‘Is the mask necessary?’

‘Not really,’ I answer. When I don’t offer anything else, she turns a shade of red I’ve only ever seen growing on vines. ‘Just tell me where to collect her and I’ll be on my way.’

‘Hmph. Very well. Follow me.’ She turns on her heel, leading me down a long hallway.

Omegas flatten themselves against the walls as we pass, ducking their heads. I keep my eyes forward, trying to block out their scents, the rustle of their skirts. I have a job to do.

And the sooner it’s done, the better.

I’m expecting her to lead me to a different wing, but the private elevator seems to descend into the bowels of hell itself and the stark difference between the sterile concrete corridor the doors open into and the relative luxury above is jarring.

The elevator lurches to a stop, the doors grinding open to reveal a long concrete hallway lit only by flickering fluorescent lights. The air is thick with the stench of mold and decay, and something else.

Fear.

It permeates the very walls, seeping into my skin.

I glance at Emilia, my brows furrowed behind my mask. ‘You keep omegas down here? In these conditions?’

She bristles, her face pinching. ‘Only the troublesome ones. The Irreparables. Six One Seven is a… unique case. She can’t be trusted around her own kind.’ Her eyes flick to mine, a warning in their depths. ‘You’ll see soon enough.’

I grit my teeth, biting back a few choice words for the old beta. ‘Does she have a name, this… omega?’

Emilia blinks, seemingly taken aback by the question. ‘Ivy. Her name is Ivy.’

I don’t respond, I just gesture for her to lead on. We walk down the dank hallway, the only sound the irritating click-clack of her overly pointed heels and the thud of my boots. She stops abruptly in front of a heavy metal door, a small window set at eye level. She turns to me, her hand on the knob.

‘Before we go in, you should know… she doesn’t look her usual self,’ she says with a sniff. ‘There are bruises. But they’ll fade. She’s quite pretty beneath it all. It’s the one virtue she seems to possess.’

Rage surges through me, hot and blinding. I step forward, towering over her. ‘Bruises? How did she get bruised here?’

Emilia takes a step back, her hand fluttering to her throat. ‘She… she attacked a guard. For no reason. We had to restrain her.’

I lean in close, my voice a low growl. ‘No reason? I somehow doubt that.’

She swallows hard, her eyes darting away. ‘You don’t know her like we do. She’s feral. Dangerous. She almost killed one of my Nightingales not too long ago.’

I straighten, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. ‘Open the door. Now.’

Emilia’s hand shakes as she turns the knob, the door swinging open with a dull creak. I step inside, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to the gloom.

The cell is small, bare. There’s no furniture, not even a mattress. Not a single blanket or pillow to make even the most unsatisfactory nest with. I may not know much about omegas, but even I know how sensitive they are to their environment. This would be torture for anyone.

Let alone a creature as delicate as they are.

And then, through the dank stench of the rest of the ward, another scent blossoms, captivating me completely. An omega’s scent that nearly brings me to my knees.

Honeysuckle and vanilla—threaded through with the coppery tang of blood. It’s nothing like the scent of the omegas upstairs. It’s so clean and good, it makes theirs seem borderline offensive in comparison. I’ve never experienced anything like it in my life, and as soon as that scent hits my nostrils, it’s like the entire world freezes on its axis.

And there, huddled in the corner, is the source.

Ivy.

She looks up as we enter, her startling blue-green eyes—aquamarine, the very color of sea glass—widening. Her face is thin, one eye swollen nearly shut, her full lips split open. Bruises mottle her pale skin, disappearing beneath the plain gray shift hanging off her thin frame. But still, there’s a defiance in the lift of her chin, the set of her shoulders, the fire in her one good eye as it meets mine.

She’s a fighter.This is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

The bruises and cuts—some of which required stitches, like the one marring her full bottom lip—are worse than Emilia implied, but she’s right about one thing.

Ivy is beautiful.

She’s the most beautiful omega I’ve ever seen.

And the sight of her crashes into me like a freight train for a million different reasons.

Something twists in my chest, an unfamiliar ache, as I step into the room. I crouch down, ignoring Emilia’s sharp intake of breath behind me as if I’m approaching a venomous snake. Ivy flinches as if she’s ready for a fight—or an attack—and watches me warily, her good eye tracking my every move.

‘Ivy,’ I say as gently as I can, the name strange and delicate on my tongue. ‘I’m Thane. I’m here to take you out of this place.’

She cringes back as I extend a hand, her chains rattling. Chains. And judging by the red on her skin beneath the ones attached to shackles on her slender neck and ankle, they’ve been there for a long time.

They have this woman, a fucking omega, tied up on the cold tile floor like a junkyard dog. Fury rises like bile in my throat.

I stand abruptly, rounding on Emilia.

‘Take those off her. Now. And get her some proper clothes. We’re leaving.’

Emilia opens her mouth as if to argue, but something in my expression must convince her otherwise. She nods jerkily, scurrying out of the cell.

I turn back to Ivy, who hasn’t taken her eyes off me. Slowly, telegraphing my movements, I reach up and remove my mask, meeting her gaze steadily.

‘You’re safe now,’ I tell her, putting every ounce of conviction I have into the words. ‘I promise.’

It’s a promise I have no right to make. Not considering who I am, or where I’m taking her. But anything is better than this shithole.

For just a moment, I swear I see a flicker of hope in those haunting depths.

Then she spits in my face and I realize I’m not as good at reading people as I thought. At least not omegas.

I chuckle, reaching up with my gloved hand to wipe the spit off my cheek. ‘Fair enough,’ I say, rising.

Ivy presses her back to the wall, chin lifted, eyes blazing in bold defiance. But I can tell she’s making an effort not to flinch, as if she thinks I’m going to retaliate physically.

I hear the annoying little clicks of Emilia’s heels coming back down the hall and I want to grab her and demand to know what the hell this place is, because it sure as fuck isn’t what they pretend to be to secure funding.

But that’ll have to wait.

All that matters right now is getting this omega—our omega—out of this godforsaken place.

Emilia comes back with a set of keys on a huge steel ring and what appears to be a gown draped over her arm. The fabric is only a few shades lighter than Ivy’s icy stare. It looks thin and hardly a fit for the mid-winter chill outside, but it’ll have to do for now.

‘Will you step out for a moment?’ Emilia asks. When I hesitate, she adds with another sniff, ‘It isn’t proper for an alpha to be present when an omega is changing.’

I want to tell the bitter hag it’s not proper for an omega to be in these conditions at all, but as reluctant as I am to even leave her alone with Ivy for another minute, I can tell she’s gonna put up a stink about it.

‘I’ll be right outside,’ I say pointedly.

Let the bitch harm a hair on Ivy’s head and I just might violate my one hard rule about never laying a finger on a woman.

I hear the rattle of chains hitting the floor and Emilia’s harsh, snippy whispering as she mutters something to Ivy that sounds like a threat. I decide they’ve had enough time when I hear a soft growl from Ivy, but when I turn toward the door, Ivy is dressed. The long-sleeved frock is nearly as loose as the gray one was, and I can see the silhouette of her legs through the thin fabric.

I shrug out of my thick military coat and ignore the scandalized sneer on Emilia’s face as I drape it over Ivy’s shoulders. She’s so thin, she lurches forward a little under the heavy weight of the leather that’s comically oversized on her. It’s practically a damn dress. She has to be at least two feet shorter than me.

With another judgmental once-over, Emilia reaches into her pocket and produces a slim leather collar and leash. She holds them out to me, her expression pinched. ‘You’ll want these. To take her home.’

I stare at the offered items, disgust rising like bile in my throat. A collar and leash like she’s some kind of animal. Like she’s just a possession to be owned and controlled. A pet.

I lift my gaze from the collar to meet Emilia’s cold eyes, taking a step forward so she feels how much bigger and more powerful I am. Just so she has a tiny glimpse into the powerlessness this omega in her care must feel.

‘I’m not worried,’ I say in a flat tone. ‘But if you really like these, I know exactly where you can shove them.’

For a split second, I think I see a ghost of a smile flicker across Ivy’s split lips. But it’s gone so fast, I can’t be sure it was ever there at all.

Emilia’s face flushes an angry red. She huffs, holding the collar and leash away from me like I’m gonna give a shit that she’s decided I don’t deserve them anymore. ‘Suit yourself, then. But don’t come crying to me when she runs off or causes trouble.’

‘I think we’ll manage,’ I reply dryly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us.’

I place a hand on the small of Ivy’s back, guiding her toward the door. She flinches at my touch, but doesn’t pull away. Even through my coat, I can feel her spine, the way her muscles tremble and tense.

We make our way back to the elevator in silence. I keep my hand on her back, more to steady her than to restrain her. She’s unsteady on her feet, wobbling in the thin-soled slippers they’ve given her. My jacket engulfs her, the sleeves hanging well past her fingertips and the hem falling past her knees.

As the elevator doors close, shutting out the dank stench of the lower levels, I finally breathe. Ivy sways slightly, gripping the handrail. I study her profile, the delicate curve of her cheekbone, the dark fan of her lashes against too-pale skin.

God, she’s beautiful.

But so fucking fragile.

I was already worried about bringing an omega into a den of rabid dogs, but this feels downright criminal. What the hell am I getting myself into? I’m no caretaker, no protector of vulnerable omegas.

I’m a soldier, a killer. The leader of the most brutal pack of alphas in Reinmich.

The Ghosts aren’t exactly known for our nurturing nature.

But I couldn’t—can’t—just leave her here. Not in this hellhole, chained and beaten and treated like less than human. No one deserves that.

Not even a ‘feral’ omega.

The elevator dings, the doors sliding open to reveal the lavish foyer. Ivy blinks in the sudden brightness, shrinking back into my coat. I guide her forward, ignoring the curious stares and whispers of the staff and the other omegas.

As I lead her out to the car that’ll drive us to the chopper that will eventually return us to her new home, I can’t help but wonder…

What have I done?