Untouched Omega (Alpha Elite Series Book 4)

  Untouched Omega

  Alpha Elite Series Book 4

  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.

  *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, including themes of infant loss and emotional trauma. Scenes are not glossed over. Sensitive readers please abstain. Proceed with caution.*

  Dedication

  To those who have suffered loss – There is no greater pain than to lose someone you love. If depictions of loss will bring too much of the pain back, please do not read. Your mental and spiritual health is too important to jeopardize over a book. Take care of yourself. Reach out if you need support. My inbox is always open.

  To my supporters – These characters were my most difficult thus far. I spent weeks being torn to pieces over/because of them. Their struggles break my heart, over and over again. Writing this story exhumed a bit of my heartache, but some things never go away. Keep reading. They find their way to the light. Eventually.

  Chapter One

  Anastasia

  One more box of syringes stacked in the cabinet.

  One more inhale.

  One more gown placed in the drawer.

  One more exhale.

  One more soap beside the sink.

  One more moment.

  One more moment to hurt and grieve. To cherish and mourn. To hold close the precious moments in life, no matter the surroundings. To protect what’s most important.

  Motion used to help make the moments easier to bear.

  Not any longer.

  Not for a while.

  Nothing helps.

  Even if it did, I would refuse the comfort. I do not deserve it. I do not want it.

  I’m the only one capable of carrying this burden. The only one able to pay adequate homage to the destruction I’ve left behind.

  In a way, it was easier to stay where I was, always underground, always knowing my place in the world. It was easier to celebrate the short snippets of beauty I’ve seen in my life while mourning what I’ve stolen, shielding the precious memories from the cruel world with a serene face.

  These circumstances—meeting my lifemate, denying him, and being torn from normality—aren’t easy to navigate through, but difficulty defines my life.

  This too I will survive.

  And I’ll do the only thing I can do to protect the newer additions to my heart.

  These new branches ache for me to let them in, living breathing vines so different from the multitude of dead husks protruding from my dilapidated organ.

  In order for them to thrive, they must prune me from their lives.

  I am a contagion waiting to infect everything they hold dear.

  Chapter Two

  Jumoke

  “What did you just say?” Vander growls as he stands from his crouch.

  With the last piece of equipment placed, an invisible shield settles over the area.

  An extra safety precaution, even though I’ve already wired the Sky-Flyer for constant stealth mode and we’ve shut down all other electronics.

  “You going deaf now, old man?”

  I can’t help it. He’s brooding. It’s beyond annoying.

  Mainly because I am too.

  We’re both begging for a way to let off some steam.

  He just needs a little coaxing from me.

  As his eyebrows drop in warning, my right tilts up in amusement.

  No growling. No puffed-up chest or displays of dominance.

  Just his knife, hurtling towards my jugular.

  A spike of adrenaline, narrow in focus, and lightning fast reflexes sends his blade back at him. As he snatches it out of the air, I launch myself towards him.

  He meets my tackle head on, crouching down and angling his shoulder towards mine. The crunch of bones colliding cracks through the air, his fisted knife aiming towards my abdomen.

  Ignoring the pain radiating from my shoulder, I sweep my forearm down onto his and jab my other fist towards his ribs. Fire licks through my torso as his blade slices just above my hip, too shallow to cut any organs, but painful all the same.

  Grinning from ear to ear as my knuckles connect with his ribs, I don’t dodge his punch. Agony flares in my jaw, spearing through my face and into my brain. Using his close proximity, I clamp my fingers around the wrist of his knife-wielding hand and wrap my other arm around his nape. Yanking down, I jam my knee upward, ready to smash his nose in.

  Without warning, gravity pulls me backward, Vander’s skull pile-driving my chest into the ground.

  Sneaky bastard dove into my yank instead of trying to pull away.

  With a seized diaphragm, I push through the lack of oxygen and twist my wrist, forcing his jab away from my torso. His blade rings against stone, the jolt of its hit vibrating up my arm and loosening my lungs' paralysis. Sucking in a deep breath, I stretch my arm further around him and grab the opposite side of his chin, my forearm blocking his view. Encasing his head with my arm, I squeeze until his noggin can’t budge from my chest.

  “Too bad there’s no sand to bury me in, eh old man?”

  His growl vibrates into my sternum, amping up my adrenaline. Blinding white agony shoots through my thigh as he kicks off the ground and lands his weight on me via his left knee.

  Unable to move the limb, my other leg reacts, hooking behind his right knee and jerking him sideways, off my pinned thigh. As I twist my hips to roll, his blade slides across solid stone, the harsh ting of sound moving towards my side.

  Contracting my arm and shoulder muscles, his jaw pops as I cause him to contort, hips arcing the opposite direction of his chin.

  His knife lurches closer, the cut above my hip pulsing.

  His grunt of agony precedes explosions in my right side as he punches me again and again with quick, powerful jabs.

  Unable to defend myself without letting go of his head, I buck until he has no balance. Yanking my leg, I force his weight off to the side and push, disengaging and rolling in the other direction.

  Gravel crunches under me, sharp rocks nicking my exposed skin as I ensure I’ve moved far enough away from him. When my knees hit the ground a few meters away, I pop to my feet, ignoring the cacophony of injuries screaming at me.

  A flash of silver shows Vander has already made it to his feet, his salt-and-pepper hair reflecting the sunlight. Meeting his eyes, I see clarity—the haze of fury has dissipated.

  “I don’t need sand to make my point, Jumoke. Go cool off,” he whispers. With the howling wind, even my acute hearing struggles to pick out his voice. Before the last word leaves his mouth, metal glints in the sun’s rays.

  The first blade whizzes past my temple, my dodge almost unsuccessful. Another sharp projectile barrels toward my ankle while yet another aims for my heart.

  Lifting my leg away from danger, I leap sideways, still in the path of the third knife. My boot lands on an uneven stone, sliding until empty air hovers below my heel. To escape the razor-sharp edge from piercing my shoulder, I lean away.

  Too late, I realize nothing will stop my descent.

  Crouching low and using my last purchase on solid ground, I lunge off the cliff, hoping the movement will put distance between the ragged cliff face and my body.

  Frothy black waves churn closer as air rushes pa
st me. Free falling, I straighten my body and point my toes towards the water, letting the air rushing past carry away my negativity.

  Vander ended the battle, but not the war.

  I revel in the surge of adrenaline, enjoying the speed and danger of my situation. For a few brief moments, nothing matters except the wind, deadly rocks, and sinister waves.

  No evil scientists. No invasive lifemate. No being unwanted or left out.

  Ice slams into my feet, the impact making every joint in my body flare in agony. Frigid water sucks me deeper into the sea, the salt causing so much misery in my wounds I’d rather suffer through the original cuts than this nonsense.

  Embraced by cold, I don’t bother to fight the currents. Letting the temperature seep into my bones and reduce swelling, I orient myself. Pushing down and breaking from the swift current, I swim until the ocean floor comes into view. Away from the churning waves and turbulent coastline, the crystal quality of the water allows me to see the beauty hidden beneath the ugly surface. Brightly colored fish dart out of my way as large ominous shapes lurk near the rocky floor. Slivers of dark green seaweed reflect the magnified rays of sun, dancing in the muted currents.

  The drag of my boots, clothes, and weapons in the water makes swimming a tad bit more difficult, but nothing I can’t handle. As my lungs begin to strain for clean oxygen, I relax my body and float in the middle of the quiet chaos. Watching the bid for survival going on around me, I smirk as a cloud of my blood forms. The tiny cuts on my arms emit tiny blooms of crimson while the gash near my hip grows a pillow of darker red.

  A school of fish scatter from under me, zooming away from a large mass heading in my direction. As it shoots up from the depths, large beady eyes flash closer, a mouth full of gnarly teeth shimmering in the light. Dark gray flesh ripples in the surrounding water, tendrils of appendages splaying upward, sharp talons preceding the gnashing teeth.

  Unsheathing one blade, I wait, not bothering to avoid the charging creature. When the first set of talons get within millimeters of my flesh, I reach beyond the sharpness, latch on to the spongy appendage, and spin.

  Unable to cease its momentum, it swings around and around, the tornado of man and monster disturbing the natural currents. When the teeth snap perilously close to my face, a quick slash and jab ends with my blade sunk deep between the creature’s eyes. As inky black spillage fills the water around me, the beast goes limp. I retract my knife and push the talons toward the dead face in front of me.

  Sliding my weapon back into its sheath, I avoid the swirling carcass around me, pushing upward with a savage kick of my legs.

  My lungs scream for nutrients.

  My soul feels calmer than it has for quite a while.

  Breaking the surface of the water, I suck in as much air as my lungs will hold. The mountains along the coast rise high above the clouds, harsh and unrelenting. Bare rock lends credence to their inhabitable nature, the perfect barrier between us and the world.

  Fuck.

  I have two options. Swim down the coast toward the little town and hike back to the Sky-Flyer. Or fight the waves and scale the cliffs.

  The purple streaks in the sky denote the approach of dusk.

  To the cliff it is.

  Flipping onto my back, I watch the changing of the sky as I angle the top of my head toward my destination. After a sigh, I backstroke through the choppy water, using the severity of the waves as my indication of distance from the cliff.

  I needed this outing. The expulsion of energy and aggression was way overdue.

  Enjoying the rare moment of solitude, I let my mind relax, letting go of my frustrations and worry.

  I focus on nothing except getting to the cliff.

  I don’t know what will happen when I return to the Sky-Flyer, but I’ll deal with it when I get there. For now, I’ll savor the multicolored sky and adventure. The gorgeous pinks and purples are highly intriguing.

  I never noticed how stunning the pale orange of the last rays of sunset were, but the color resonates deep in my soul.

  Damn it.

  Her eyes shine in the sky.

  And in my heart.

  What a load of shit.

  Chapter Three

  Anastasia

  Squelching noises accompany his arrival. There’s no need to straighten my spine or check my defenses since I haven’t let them down. Despite the briny scent of salt water emanating from him, the part of me I’ve never been able to sever aches at his aroma. A hard thump of my heart distresses me. Acting as though the view of his slickened hair and dripping clothes don't affect me, I continue my task.

  I'd rather they not affect me. The instinctual yearning causes a ball of dread to settle within my chest. Fear thickens in my throat, but I swallow it down and reach for another container.

  If these weren’t double-wrapped, I would have refused the work given to me. Even so, I’m careful to touch the food kit as little as possible, hooking my gloved fingers under the edge of the packaging and balancing it between two digits. Lifting and placing it in the designated slot within the food storage, I can’t help but glance over at his movement.

  His broad shoulders tip sideways as he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking one ankle over the other. A decidedly intimidating pose despite the ease with which he settles into it, I allow my lips to tighten.

  Alpha displays of dominance have held no control over me for years. I may obey, but not because I am Omega. I do as suggested because to do otherwise would be foolish. And deadly.

  Yet his mere presence calls for me to bare my neck in supplication. His piercing eyes and menacing stance make my blood burn in my veins and my stomach to tighten.

  Sinking into memory, I caress the newest husk protruding from my heart. I need not go far to acquire a stark reminder as to why I must deny him. I fill my lungs with a steady, deep breath, lifting a new food tray from the box. Ignoring the flare of pain caused by my deep breath, I slide the tray into its new slot and begin to expel the air. As my lungs depress, sharp aches spear through my abdomen, my decrepit organs making their displeasure known.

  Another futile caress of my beloved failure, and I clamp down on the barrier between myself and the male in the doorway. I meet his gorgeous hazel eyes, not allowing myself to fall into the dance of bright green and copper flecks within his pupils.

  “Omega,” he greets me with a soft word, the slight rumble natural, his husky voice one of the nicest sounds I’ve heard. The memory of my most treasured noises batten down my resolve. I clasp the back of one hand with the other and let them rest against my thighs.

  His earlier agitation seems to have abated.

  “Alpha,” I respond, realizing we haven’t exchanged names yet.

  Vander, the Alpha nearest my age, called him Jumoke, but our first interaction wasn’t conducive to civil conversation.

  One eyebrow rises, the tilting of his lips mingling with the stormy intelligence behind the golden flecks in his eyes. When he continues to stare without speaking, I turn back to the box of food and continue restocking the room’s supply.

  The sooner I leave this room, the better. I’d hoped to finish filling the cabinet before he returned, but the box had been too heavy to carry all this way first, so I’d had to refill the rooms according to their proximity to my starting point.

  This is his room. His scent wafts from the luxurious bed, the echo of his presence apparent in every corner of the space.

  His den. His bed. His food.

  Not his Omega. Not his lifemate.

  No matter the definitive link connecting our hearts—I cannot fulfill his needs.

  Filling the last spot in the food storage, I twist to close the almost-empty box. Painful pinching and pseudo tearing grips my internal organs, a result of the unaccustomed activity I forced my body through a few hours ago, since running is not my forte. A sharp inhale through my nose gives away my agony, but I force my breathing to regulate and resume closing the box
.

  Terrible though the sensation is, I can handle it. I’ve lived through worse. Much worse.

  The hairs on my nape stand on end, the only warning I receive before his shadow looms over me.

  I heard no signs of his movement across the room, despite the sopping state of his garments. Terror stills my movements, his closeness a horrible risk.

  “Step away from me, please.”

  My muscles may have turned to stone with dread, but my voice portrays the calm assurance I devote to my losses.

  “You’re hurt,” he states, the last word lilting towards accusation.

  “I will manage.”

  At his slight shift closer, my heart squeezes in fright. I stand as frozen as prey attempting to elude a deadly predator.

  Except I don’t do so out of self-preservation.

  In this situation, I am the danger.

  His low sound of frustration borders on a growl, awakening responses I thought dead long ago.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  I haven’t been this close to an Alpha in many years, my life carefully controlled for everyone’s sake. His nearness forces awareness to course through my skin, my flesh craving his vitality.

  My pains increase, his question pushing my focus to my ailing organs.

  An inadvertent wolf in sheep’s clothing, my body lures him closer still, my Omega self appealing to his natural instincts.

  “I have no new injuries. Nothing requires your attention. Move away, Alpha. A discussion is overdue.”

  A wave of disbelief crashes against my hold on our link, his presence seeming to grow larger at his frustration.

  Yet, when I don’t retreat or melt into hysterics, the hold his instincts have on him lessens. Knowing I can’t close our connection all the way, I reach through the tiny opening and spread calm to his heart, urging him to take my advice.

  His shudder ripples through the scant space between us.

  “What are you doing?”