Omega Mine

Josie was trapped in a dirty, dark cell, chained to a wall, with an Alpha who was currently stomping toward her, his frightening snarl filling the room.

She shrank back at the feral sound, certain she was about to be ripped to shreds as the back of her head hit the wall. She sucked in a shallow breath, drawing his scent into her lungs, and froze.

That scent…

Josie’s head snapped up, locking onto a pair of red, glowing eyes. She could only faintly make out his outline from here, her eyesight wasn’t as good in the dark as an Alpha’s, but his scent–musk, cedarwood and the faintest trace of apples–told her everything she needed to know.

This was Bethany’s son, Grayson. The Alpha rumored to be here! Josie could have wept with relief, hope stirring in her chest despite the fact that she was chained to a wall with an angry Alpha in the room.

“It’s you,” she whispered. Her awe turned to terror a moment later when he didn’t pause at all, prowling straight toward her like a beast about to eviscerate its prey. She’d never seen an Alpha this close before, and definitely not one that wasn’t mated. Unmated Alphas were said to be cold to the bone. Sinister and cruel.

Josie couldn’t help but shiver as he invaded her space, his booted feet brushing the tips of her shoes. Her chains rattled as she scooted back along the wall, tilting her head to take him all in. This close, it was easy to see him more clearly in spite of the darkness.

He was so tall, taller than any male she’d seen before. Powerful legs encased in worn jeans. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and she could see that although his torso was muscled, as were his arms, he wasn’t receiving the proper amount of nourishment. She’d seen freed Betas with more muscle packed on than him, which meant he wasn’t at his full potential here.

It made sense. The humans would be foolish to keep someone like him in peak physical condition.

He looked to be in his early thirties, but she knew he was nearing fifty years old. Given that he was like her, his aging would be slow as well. An Alpha in his prime could live hundreds of years without aging more than a decade.

She paused her inspection as she spotted his upper chest, eyes widening in horror. His upper half was covered in blood. Even his hands, though she hadn’t noticed before, were coated in it all the way past his wrists.

Her nose wasn’t picking up on any of that though, wholly consumed by how wonderful his scent was, not allowing her to differentiate anything else.

She remembered Commander Ortega saying that his ‘prized beast’ had bested three males in the ring tonight, but this didn’t look like a victory. It looked like Grayson had slaughtered his opponents and then bathed in their blood.

He dropped down into a crouch, his legs straddling hers and despite her best efforts to be brave, Josie whimpered, turning her head to the side and exposing her neck in surrender. It was instinctual, showing her jugular in the hopes that he would understand she wasn’t a threat.

A deep, rumbling growl filled the cell, the warning clear. He could kill her in a heartbeat if he was so inclined.

“Grayson, please don’t hurt me,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut when he leaned in, his nose brushing over her cheek and trailing down to her neck.

“You don’t smell right,” he said, his deep gravelly voice twisting her insides. He slid the tip of his nose over her jugular, inhaling before pulling back to glare at her. “Your scent is wrong,” he reiterated. “Why?”

Oh no.

She’d taken a scent blocker before she’d left town to come here, so there was no way he could detect her natural scent, but she had no idea he’d be able to understand that Sierra’s own scent didn’t belong to her.

How was that possible? And why was his scent overpowering everything else? She couldn’t get enough of it, dragging him deep into her lungs as if she just needed him instead of air to breathe.

Grayson snarled, lips peeling back before he moved back to her throat, the sharp feel of fangs caressing her skin. Josie trembled, her chains rattling harshly against the wall until he grabbed her wrists hanging above her head, pinning them against the cold concrete.

His hands on hers were warm, causing a primal stirring deep in her core that distracted her from his true intentions until it was too late.

He nipped hard enough to break her skin. She jerked against him, crying out in pain when he sucked at her flesh, drawing the blood he’d spilled into his mouth.

“Stop!” Josie jerked away from him, uncaring that he might rip out her throat in the process as fear overrode her common sense. “You’re hurting me!”

Grayson pulled back abruptly, growling again until she was shaking from the force of his displeasure. Her blood was staining his elongated canines and she physically recoiled from the sight.

He released her wrists, cupping her face with both of his hands and yanking her head up until she was staring into deep, glowing red eyes.

“You’re my gift, and I’ll do with you what I will,” he bellowed, his nails lengthening into thick claws that dug into her skin. “If I want to taste your blood or slit your throat, I will.”

“You’re scaring me,” she admitted softly, eyes filling with tears.

Grayson glared at her in disgust, dropping his hands from her face and standing. Josie flinched from the quick move, unaccustomed to being near someone so much faster than her, let alone someone who’d just bitten her.

Everything she’d heard about unmated Alphas was true, and this one had spent years being a prisoner, killing others in order to survive.

“Humans are all so weak,” he spat under his breath, leaving her shaking on the floor as he ventured to the other side of his cell.

He still thought she was human? Josie squeezed her eyes shut in relief, willing away her tears as she took a deep, shuddering breath.

How long was Commander Ortega going to keep her trapped down here? He’d implied Grayson would rape her. So far all he’d done was nip her and growl in her face threateningly, but he’d backed off when she’d told him he scared her.

That had to count for something, right? The faint trickle of blood that traveled from her neck and into the collar of her shirt told her otherwise. That as soon as he was ready, he was going to rip her throat out.

The sound of metal scraping on concrete had her eyes snapping back open and onto his shadowy figure as he slid something large and heavy toward her side of the room.

What was he doing?

The sound was grating and she clenched her jaw to keep from yelling at him to stop whatever the hell he was doing.

Water sloshed over the sides and understanding crossed her mind. He was bringing a makeshift bathtub toward her. Why?

Her mouth dried in panic when he stopped, standing straight. His hands found his jeans and he undid the zipper before sliding the material down his thighs.

Josie couldn’t look away, too startled and oddly captivated by him as he undressed in front of her, kicking off his heavy boots before dropping his jeans to the floor. Her eyes snapped toward his groin and then away when she caught sight of something large dangling between his legs.

Nope, she was not giving that thing any attention.

Stepping out of his jeans, Grayson approached, and Commander Ortega’s words about her being raped came roaring back to the surface.

“Get back,” she hissed, kicking her feet out toward him. She connected with his shin and winced in pain.

It felt like she was hitting something made out of steel!

“Are you looking for a fight?” he asked gruffly, grabbing her ankle when she kicked out again. “Strike at me one more time and I’ll snap your neck.”

Josie stilled, breath catching in her lungs as he leaned over her, his groin right in her face as he snagged the chains holding her to the wall with one hand. He wrapped the heavy lengths around his wrist and then pulled, ripping the chains right out of the wall.

Her mouth dropped open in shock when he released her ankle and the chains, allowing her arms to fall to her sides. The relief was bittersweet as pins and needles exploded down her arms and into her hands.

Grayson turned away from her, striding to the tub before turning to face her again. He watched her warily as he put one foot into the large tub and then another, slowly sinking down to his waist.

“You’ll rinse me off,” he commanded, voice full of dark menace, “and I’ll decide if I kill you or not.”

Josie cleared her throat, eyes wide. “Do you have a cloth, or–”

“You’ll use your hands.” Her hands? She didn’t move, shock and trepidation keeping her locked in place on the ground until he barked, “Now!”

Josie sprang up from the dirty floor and rushed toward the tub, the chains heavy and loud as they dragged behind her.

He was tense as she approached him, but he didn’t move when she reached his side, dropping to her knees next to the tub. Instead, he stared straight ahead, almost as if he was ignoring her entirely.

Was she supposed to use soap? She took a discreet look around, but the cell was so dark, she couldn’t really see a damned thing other than the outline of his bed and toilet.

Afraid to wait any longer, she rolled up the sleeves of her long shirt, ignoring the way the metal cuffs bit into her wrists as she dipped her hands into the ice cold water. She bit her lip to keep from cursing at the surprising temperature.

Unsure of what to do, Josie scooped up water in both hands before bringing it to his shoulders and releasing, careful to keep from touching him. Some of the water hit his back, but it wasn’t enough to do much other than piss him off if she continued like this.

She was going to have to touch him to rinse him off.

Gulping, Josie reached back into the water at his side, cupping a small amount and starting over. This time she pressed her wet hands over his shoulders, shivering at the heat he was emitting. His skin was hot to the touch, but rough. It was impossible to not find scars littering his shoulders as she rinsed him, and part of Josie ached with each new one she discovered.

“Stop whimpering,” he bit out savagely. Her hands stilled on him in confusion until she realized he was right. There was a broken, pained whine coming from her.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, shaking her head to clear it as the noise in her throat quieted down.

Josie began to clean his bloody chest, wincing when she uncovered more scars, some raised on his pecs, while others were indented, as if he’d had bites taken out of him.

Without meaning to, her fingernails brushed his nipple and he reacted, snatching her wrist and tugging her forward until her torso was dangling over the tub, her other hand splayed across his chest to keep from falling in.

“Grayson, what are you doing?” she breathed, his angry face so close to hers that she could actually make out individual features.

He was handsome, or he would have been if his full lips weren’t twisted into a snarl. He had a strong jawline, covered in stubble, and his nose was mostly straight, though she could tell it had been broken at least twice. His teeth were white when they weren’t covered in her blood, but it was his eyes that kept her captivated.

What was it about them? She felt like she’d stared into them before for hours. Days. As if they were imprinted in her mind, which was impossible.

He pulled her closer to him, his nose brushing hers. “Who the fuck is Grayson?”