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

The scent of antiseptic and sterile linen wraps around me like a shroud. My bare feet make no sound on the cold tile as I pad across the floor of the infirmary, casting a wary glance at the closed door leading to the main clinic area. Plague’s domain.

Echoes of shouting drift in from the hallway, Whiskey’s raucous voice clashing with the deep, guttural snarls of Wraith. A shudder works its way down my spine at the primal fury in those bestial sounds. I don’t know what set off the argument this time, but part of me doesn’t want to find out.

Better to stay out of the fray.

Safer.

I sink onto the narrow cot in the corner, the thin mattress dipping beneath my weight. My world is infinitely more comfortable and predictable now, but the days still bleed into each other with little to mark their passing. With the exception of the damn IVs Plague is always threatening me with if I don’t eat.

Better than what would happen at the Center, though.

So I’ve been eating here and there, just to keep them satisfied. And because I’m pretty sure I’m going to run out of places to poke.

Another crash echoes from the hallway, followed by a torrent of curses. My shoulders tense instinctively, every muscle coiled and ready to fight or flee. But the sounds fade as quickly as they came, swallowed up by the thick concrete walls.

Slowly, gradually, I force myself to relax. To let out the breath I’ve been holding in a shuddering exhale. It’s just another day in the life of the Ghosts, it seems. Chaos reigning, tempers flaring hot as the fires of hell itself.

I curl my bare feet beneath me, wrapping my arms around my knees as I gaze at the door. What fresh torment awaits me on the other side, I wonder? What new indignities will they subject me to in the name of ‘taming’ their feral little pet?

Not that it matters. I’ve survived worse than this. Endured nightmares that would shatter weaker souls.

The echo of approaching footsteps snaps me from my reverie, my head whipping toward the door as the scent of smoke and pine fills my nostrils. Thane. I tense instinctively, steeling myself for whatever he’s about to subject me to.

But when the door swings open, he seems… different. Calmer, somehow. The usual hard lines of his face are softened, his dark eyes holding none of their customary intensity. He looks almost relaxed as he steps into the room, his gaze finding me immediately.

‘Ivy.’ My name rolls off his tongue, rough and smoky. A shiver works its way down my spine despite my best efforts.

I don’t respond, just watch him warily as he approaches. He stops a few feet away, close enough that I can make out the faint lines creasing the corners of his eyes, the flecks of amber in his irises.

The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy as Thane’s gaze rakes over me. I refuse to squirm under his scrutiny, keeping my expression carefully blank even as my insides churn with unease. After what feels like an eternity, he finally breaks the silence.

‘Sorry about that,’ he rumbles, the words emerging low and rough. ‘Whiskey’s drunk again and he tried to grab Wraith’s mask. The key word here is ‘tried.”

An involuntary shudder ripples through me at the mention of Wraith’s name. The feral alpha’s snarls still echo in my mind, raw and guttural, the sounds of a rabid beast pacing its cage.

It’s funny. Out of all of them, even though I’ve never spoken to Wraith—I’m not sure he can speak at all—I sense a strange kinship there. We were both forged from fire.

But that doesn’t make him safe.

It’s the opposite.

I know better than anyone what a caged animal is capable of, what my instincts tell me to do to protect myself. The only reason I haven’t acted on those instincts is because I’m not completely reckless.

I have no idea if Wraith even thinks.

Slowly, I lift my eyes to meet Thane’s inscrutable stare. He doesn’t seem remotely phased by whatever just went on out there. As though drunken brawls and mindless violence are just another mundane occurrence around here.

My lips curl in a silent sneer at the thought. Of course it’s all just business as usual for them. Monsters don’t feel shame or guilt over being monstrous. It’s simply their nature.

The silence stretches again, taut as a tripwire, but I refuse to be the one to break it this time. Let him squirm under the weight of my defiant glare, my blatant refusal to play his little game. I’m not some simpering omega to be cowed by his alpha bluster.

Thane seems to sense the challenge in my stony silence. A muscle ticks in his jaw, the first crack in his unruffled facade.

‘You’re being moved to new quarters today,’ he says at last, his deep voice a low rumble. ‘Figured you’d want a space of your own instead of staying cooped up in here. Your nesting materials came in this morning.’

It’s not a question. It’s an undisguised attempt to draw me into conversation. A lure dangled before me like bait on a hook. I eye it warily, fighting the instinctive urge to recoil and spit at him.

New quarters. Another cell to replace this one, with all the same locks and barriers keeping me trapped. Creature comforts tossed in to make the bars seem less confining. A gilded cage.

I know the game they’re playing, can see the manipulation as clear as day. Give the feral little omega a taste of freedom, a glimpse of something better, all in the hopes that she’ll be so dazzled by the scraps they dangle that she’ll roll over and show her belly.

Play nice and be a good little pet.

If he wants obedience, wants me to play the part of the pliant, submissive omega… he has another thing coming.

At last, I hear him exhale a slow breath, the sound eerily controlled. ‘I know things have been… difficult since you arrived. But I want you to know that we’re not trying to keep you caged up like some animal. We’re trying to keep you safe. To protect you.’

A harsh laugh escapes me before I can stop it. I’ve survived on my own in the wild since I was a child. I can handle myself just fine without their ‘protection.’

A ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of Thane’s lips, softening the hard planes of his face. ‘I don’t doubt your capability,’ he says as if he can read my damn mind. ‘But these mountains are different from wherever you came from. These forests are filled with dangers you couldn’t even imagine.’

Like you? I wonder. They’re the biggest threat of all.

But I refuse to speak.

A low chuckle rumbles up from his broad chest, the rich sound sending an unexpected ripple of heat curling through my belly.

I squash it down ruthlessly, tightening my arms around my knees. I won’t be swayed by an alpha’s cheap tricks, no matter how deep and rumbly his laugh.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

‘You don’t cave, I’ll give you that,’ Thane concedes, shaking his head.

His gaze holds mine, dark and steady, and for a heartbeat I find myself pinned in place, transfixed. There’s something in those fathomless depths that calls to me, and I hate it.

Then the moment shatters as he tears his eyes away, clearing his throat. ‘Anyway, your new room is ready whenever you’d like to move in. Plague had blankets, pillows, and other things delivered. Proper blankets, not these thin, bleached scraps you have now.’

I blink at him, momentarily thrown.

He’s serious about this whole nesting thing.

‘It’s supposed to help omegas feel more at ease,’ he explains. ‘Give you a space that’s yours to make into… well, whatever you want, really. No rules, no restrictions.’

I eye him skeptically, searching for the catch.

I’m sure it’s just more treats to get me to perform tricks for them. Tricks like being docile and opening my legs.

I’ve been expecting them to just force themselves on me like any other alphas would—and have—but convincing me to consent to all this seems to be part of the twisted game for them. They didn’t violate me while I was unconscious. Not that I’m aware of, at least. I found no evidence of invasion when I woke. No marks, no bruises, no seed.

But their unpredictability makes them all the more dangerous.

‘You’ll have free rein over the common areas too,’ he continues when I don’t respond. ‘The run of the place, so to speak. No more being cooped up in here like a caged bird.’

I stare at him.

Does he really not know that’s exactly what I am?

He seems bizarrely earnest. He’s good at fooling himself, then. Fooling himself into thinking he’s not just like every other goddamn alpha on this godforsaken planet.

The words are meant to reassure, I know. But all I can focus on is the heavy metal collar still secured around my throat, branding me as their property no matter how much ‘freedom’ they claim to grant. And unlike the mark on my shoulder, it’s not a mark I can simply sear off my skin.

I reach up, fingering the unyielding metal as I hold Thane’s gaze.

He sighs, raking a hand through his tousled hair. ‘I know that collar feels like more restriction,’ he says, something in his voice making me think he might actually mean it. ‘But you have to understand, it’s for your own good as much as ours. We can’t risk you running off and getting killed.’

I scoff at that, giving him my most withering glare. As if I need their protection from anything out there.

As if I’d want it, even if I did.

Seeming to sense that he’s not going to sway me, at least not today, Thane lets out another sigh and straightens to his full, imposing height. ‘Well, the room’s ready whenever you are,’ he says, already turning toward the door. ‘I’ll let you get settled in on your own time.’

And just like that, he’s gone, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click. I stare at the blank metal for a long moment, my mind racing.

A room of my own. Freedom to roam, within limits. Nesting materials to make a space for myself, to nurture that softer, more vulnerable part of my nature that’s been so ruthlessly suppressed.

It’s more than I ever could have hoped for in this place.

And yet…

I shake my head, pushing away the treacherous thought before it can fully form. They’re trying to lull me into a false sense of security, to coax out my inner omega so I’ll be more pliant, more easily controlled.

Well, it won’t work. I refuse to play their game, to let them manipulate me into being the pretty little doll they so clearly want.

Squaring my shoulders, I rise from the cot and cross to the door, pulling it open with a creak of protest. My new room lies beyond, waiting.

I slip out into the hall, letting the door swing shut behind me. I pad up to the door of the room I was in before being trapped in the infirmary. I hesitate for a moment before grasping the cold handle and pushing it open.

I take in my surroundings with a sweeping gaze. Boxes, crates, and baskets overflowing with fabrics and furs and feathers catch my eye, my breath catching in my throat.

Actual nesting materials.

I trail my fingers over the soft woven blankets, the silken throws, marveling at the rich textures and vibrant hues. Colorful sequins and rhinestones glitter at my touch. This isn’t the rough canvas and scratchy wool of my childhood, the bare essentials required for survival. This is a far cry from the tattered tarp I spent so many stormy nights curled beneath.

This is luxury. Indulgence.

A tendril of want unfurls in my chest, blossoming into a fierce ache as my fingers continue their exploration. I’ve never had anything like this before, never been afforded such simple pleasures.

Part of me longs to gather the materials into my arms, to lose myself in the sensual caress of fur and feathers against my skin. To build myself a nest worthy of the most treasured of omegas, swaddling myself in layer upon layer of comfort and safety.

But I can’t.

Won’t.

Because as soon as I let myself give in to those base desires, those primal instincts, I’ll have lost. They’ll have won, stripped away the last shreds of my defiance and self-preservation until I’m nothing but a tame, docile little pet to be paraded around on a leash.

My lip curls at the thought, jaw clenching until I feel the tendons stand out. I am not some fragile hothouse flower to be coddled and preened. I am a survivor, hard as the wilderness that forged me.

They may be beasts, but foxes and jackals are beasts, too. The wilds aren’t just for monsters and brutes.

Dropping my hand, I turn away from the tempting piles of softness and head for the far corner of the room. There, I gather up a worn wool blanket and a few of the less opulent pillows, piling them into a nest that’s meager and plain.

Just like me.

Just like the life I’ve always known, with no illusions of grandeur or comfort. A life of hardship and struggle, of constantly having to fight for my next breath.

This is what I know. This is what I understand.

Soft, pretty things are for delicate creatures, not hardened survivors.

Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I sink into my makeshift nest and draw my knees to my chest. Let them think they’ve won me over with their indulgences, their ‘gifts.’

I know better.

All I need is the will to keep fighting, to keep surviving no matter what schemes they devise. And that… that is something no amount of soft blankets or plump pillows can take away.