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

I sink deeper into the nest of worn wool blankets and faded pillows, the coarse fibers scratching my skin. Despite the meager surroundings, an odd sense of comfort settles over me. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to make my own nest, to cocoon myself in familiar textures and scents.

The far more luxurious fabrics, pillows, and trinkets in the boxes and crates scattered around my room call to me, but I ignore them.

I’m perfectly content with what I’m used to.

The thick collar still weighs heavy on my throat, a constant reminder of my captivity. But for now, I can almost pretend it doesn’t exist.

Almost.

A soft knock at the door shatters the fragile illusion. I tense, every muscle coiled as the scent of smoke and pine drifts in.

Thane.

The door creaks open before I can respond, the alpha silhouetted in the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway.

‘Ivy?’ His deep voice rumbles through me, setting my nerves on edge. ‘Can I come in?’

I eye him warily but give a curt nod, bracing myself. He steps inside, the door swinging shut behind him with a dull thud, casting us into shadow.

‘I have a mission briefing,’ he says without preamble. ‘We’re going after an oligarch running illegal arms deals in the Outer Reaches.’

I blink at him, caught off guard by the blunt announcement.

A mission?

They’re taking me on a mission?

As if sensing my confusion, Thane continues. ‘The Council has ordered you to accompany us. They seem to think your presence will have a ‘stabilizing’ effect on the team.’

I laugh before I can stop myself.

Me, a stabilizing presence? On a team of vicious alphas?

The Council must be utterly delusional.

Thane arches a brow, his dark eyes glittering in the low light. ‘You think it’s funny?’

I shake my head, still fighting back laughter. ‘No, I just… I didn’t expect it.’

He blinks as if he’s surprised and caught off guard to hear me actually speaking to him.

Don’t get used to it, alpha, I think to myself.

‘Neither did I,’ he admits once his surprise lapses, raking a hand through his shaggy hair. ‘But orders are orders. The Council seems to think your presence will make us fight harder, be better warriors if we have a constant reminder of what we’re fighting for.’

A chill skitters down my spine at his matter-of-fact words. Of course that’s their twisted logic—treat me like a tethered goat, dangling me in front of their attack dogs to make them more vicious.

I should be terrified at the prospect of being dragged out into the fray, surrounded by uncontrolled alphas with nothing to lose. Should be cowering at the mere thought of the danger, the violence that’s sure to erupt.

But strangely, I’m not afraid. In fact, a thrill courses through me at the idea of escaping these stifling walls, of finally being free to breathe fresh air again—even if only temporarily.

‘You’re not scared?’ Thane presses, leaning in as if scrutinizing me for any tells. ‘We won’t let any harm come to you, of course, but… Being out there, in the middle of a war zone… it’s not for the faint of heart.’

I lift my chin, meeting his intense gaze head-on. ‘I’m not afraid of your war games,’ I say, keeping my tone carefully neutral. ‘I’ve seen worse than anything you alphas can dish out.’

Surprise flickers across his rugged features again, gone as quickly as it appeared. ‘You shouldn’t underestimate the situation,’ he warns, something like grudging respect bleeding into his words.

‘I’ll take my chances,’ I say, allowing a hint of challenge to creep into my voice.

Thane regards me for a long moment, something inscrutable flickering behind those dark eyes. Then he nods, straightening to his full, imposing height. ‘Fair enough. But I meant what I said—having you out there will be a distraction. Protecting you is going to make our job a hell of a lot harder.’

I bristle at that, the flare of defiance in my chest warring with the pragmatic voice whispering that he’s right. An untrained omega on the battlefield would be a massive liability, no matter how capable I might be.

‘I can take care of myself,’ I say stiffly. ‘I won’t need any protecting.’

There’s a wry twist of his lips, not quite a smile. ‘We’ll see about that. For now, I want you to come to the training room and run through some basic self-defense drills. Just in case.’

I arch a brow, a hint of challenge creeping into my tone. ‘I’m ready now if you are.’

Thane pauses, clearly taken aback. He searches my face, those intense eyes boring into me as if he can see straight through to the truth lurking beneath my words.

Whatever he finds there seems to satisfy him. With a curt nod, he turns and heads for the door, leaving me to follow in his wake.

The corridor beyond is a dim, featureless maze of concrete and steel. I trail a few paces behind Thane, my senses on high alert as the scents and sounds of the compound assault me. The muffled thump of weights hitting the floor, the sharp tang of sweat and exertion.

We pass through a set of heavy double doors and emerge into a cavernous space lined with mats and training equipment. Whiskey is already there, his handsome face and muscular arms gleaming with sweat as he pounds away at a heavy bag.

His head snaps up at our entrance, lips peeling back in a mocking sneer as his gaze lands on me. ‘Well, well. If it isn’t the little biter. Can’t believe those psychos are making you come with us.’

I bristle at the insult, shooting him my most withering glare. But before I can respond, Thane cuts in with a low growl.

‘That’s enough, Whiskey. We’re working on some basic drills for Ivy’s benefit. I expect you to show a little professionalism for once.’

Whiskey snorts, delivering one last vicious blow to the bag before turning to face us fully. ‘Whatever you say, boss. Just don’t come crying to me when she tries to take a chunk out of your pretty face.’

‘On second thought, keep running your mouth. She hates you enough that you’ll make an ideal sparring partner for her,’ Thane retorts dryly.

‘I hate all of you equally,’ I clarify.

Thane’s brows knit together at that, a flicker of what I think might actually be hurt crossing his chiseled features before his mask of stoicism slips back into place. It amuses me to realize I’ve managed to get under his skin, if only for a moment.

‘Well then,’ he says, gesturing to the open mat. ‘Let’s see if we can work out some of that aggression, shall we? Whiskey, you’re up first.’

The burly alpha rolls his eyes but complies, stalking toward the mat with a lazy, arrogant sway. I square my shoulders and step forward to meet him, refusing to let his sheer size intimidate me.

We circle each other for a moment, sizing one another up. Then Whiskey lunges, moving with surprising speed for such a large man. I dart back, deflecting his grasping hands and aiming a vicious kick at his midsection.

He catches my ankle easily, that infuriating smirk still plastered across his stupid face. ‘Too slow, darlin’,’ he taunts, giving my leg a rough shake.

White-hot fury surges through me. With a snarl, I twist and lash out with my free foot, catching him square in the chest. He staggers back with a grunt, forced to release me.

I press the advantage, raining a flurry of blows down on him as he struggles to regain his footing. A vicious jab cracks against his jaw, snapping his head to the side. He roars in outrage, all traces of playfulness vanishing.Ccontent © exclusive by Nô/vel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Suddenly, he’s on me, those massive arms wrapping around my torso and pinning my own limbs to my sides. I thrash and buck, but it’s like being caught in a vise, the solid wall of his chest immovable. His scent envelops me, a heady musk of sweat and exertion and pure alpha heat.

I thrash and buck against Whiskey’s iron grip, but it’s utterly futile. His massive frame dwarfs me, those tree-trunk arms caging me against the solid wall of his chest and padded stomach. It feels like wrestling a fucking grizzly bear.

I can’t budge an inch. Or bite him. Not from this angle.

Whiskey’s warm, musky alpha scent surrounds me, the rich notes of leather and earth swirling through my senses and making my head swim. For a moment, I think he’s going to grab my breast—it’s an inch from his hand and he could easily brush it off as just an accident in such close quarters—but his hand moves to my side instead.

He leans in, his lips and light stubble brushing the shell of my ear as he rumbles, ‘Give it up, little omega. You’re not going anywhere until I say so.’

A shiver races down my spine at the dark promise in his words. I bare my teeth in a defiant snarl, renewing my struggles with even more ferocity. But Whiskey just chuckles, the sound a deep, throaty rasp that has heat unfurling low in my belly in spite of myself.

Gritting my teeth, I force the unwanted feelings down and focus on finding an escape. Whiskey’s hips are pinning my lower body, leaving my legs free. In a sudden, vicious move, I draw my knee up and slam it directly into his groin.

Whiskey’s eyes bulge almost comically. A strangled wheezing sound escapes his lips as he folds in on himself, all the breath punched from his lungs. His arms slacken just enough for me to tear free and stagger back, putting some much-needed distance between us.

‘You little psycho,’ he wheezes, straightening with an agonized grimace. The raw fury in his gaze makes my heart stutter.

Before I can react, he’s lunging at me again, hands outstretched to grab. I dart to the side, but his fingertips still catch my arm, dragging me off balance. He spins me around and the only thing that keeps my face from slamming into the unforgiving concrete wall in front of me is his arm around my throat, showing he’s exercising more control than it seems.

I try to push off the wall, but Whiskey’s weight pins me there, his body a scorching brand against my back. ‘Checkmate, wildcat,’ he says through his teeth.

‘That’s enough!’ Thane’s bellow cuts through the ringing in my ears. ‘Stand down, Whiskey. Now.’

A low, rumbling growl is the only response. Whiskey’s grip tightens, making sure I know who’s the dominant one in this scenario.

I’m starting to think I bruised his ego.

Then, all at once, his weight vanishes. I slump forward, gasping greedily as Thane hauls Whiskey roughly off me and flings him away. The two alphas immediately clash in a whirlwind of fists and grunts, trading vicious blows with a savagery that leaves me frozen in shock. And confirms that Whiskey was definitely using kid gloves on me, no matter how bruising that realization is to my own ego.

Thane moves with a lethal, economical grace, ducking and weaving to avoid the other alpha’s ponderous strikes while landing blow after precise blow. But Whiskey is like an enraged bull, shrugging off even the most punishing hits and simply barreling forward again with that unstoppable momentum.

I should run, I know. Seize this chance to make my escape while they’re distracted. But some morbid fascination holds me rooted to the spot, unable to tear my eyes away from the brutal spectacle unfolding before me.

Eventually, they break apart, both alphas panting and sporting a myriad of new bruises. Whiskey clutches his shoulder, a grimace of pain etched across his rugged features, even though I’m pretty sure that’s the one part of him that didn’t get hurt. Wait… was he already injured? No wonder Thane wanted me to spar him.

The fire in Whiskey’s eyes has dimmed, banked for now beneath the mantle of hard-won control.

Thane spits a mouthful of blood onto the mat, his chest heaving. For a long moment, they simply stare at each other in silence, the air thick with unspoken challenge and lingering tension.

Then, almost imperceptibly, Thane gives a small nod of acknowledgment and Whiskey stands down.

They’re both still alive. Neither of them maimed each other. There aren’t body parts strewn across the mat as I’d expected a moment ago.

The realization is deeply unsettling. Because no matter how much restraint they’ve shown, no matter how human they might seem in this moment, I know the truth.

Alphas will always be alphas. Vicious, domineering brutes who think nothing of using their power to break anyone weaker. I can never afford to forget that.

No matter what brief glimpses of control they allow me to see.