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

My boots crunch on the frozen ground with each step as I stride through the snow-laden forest. The frigid mountain air stings my lungs with every breath, but I relish the icy burn. It keeps me sharp, focused on the hunt.

I love it.

My gaze drifts to Ivy, the feral little omega trudging ahead of me, her lithe form swallowed by layers of tactical gear. She moves with feline grace, each step measured and purposeful despite the arduous terrain. Even from behind, I can sense the coiled tension thrumming through her body, that ever-present wariness that never seems to fade.

A shiver races down my spine, but it has nothing to do with the biting chill.

This one… she awakens something primal within me. Something dark and hungry, a craving I’ve never known before. The urge to stalk her, to run her to ground and claim her as my own overwhelms every rational thought.

And yet, mingled with that savage need is another instinct just as fierce. The desire to shield her from harm, to wrap her in the protective circle of my arms and destroy and disembowel anything and anyone that dares threaten her.

The duality of it leaves me reeling, my baser instincts warring with the twisted shreds of my humanity. I didn’t think I had any of that left.

I’ve always been a killer, a monster lurking in the shadows with an insatiable thirst for blood. Taking lives has never phased me, never stirred anything beyond a fleeting rush of power, of control. But now, the thought of Ivy’s blood being spilled, of her life snuffed out…

It makes my own heart stutter in my chest, an icy tendril of dread coiling through my veins.

Brow furrowing, I tear my gaze away from the hypnotic sway of her hips, forcing my attention back to our surroundings. Up ahead, Wraith’s hulking silhouette looms like a walking nightmare, that massive frame cutting a path through the knee-deep drifts.

My grip tightens on the stock of my rifle as the memory of him grabbing Ivy flashes through my mind, unbidden. For a split second back there, I was ready to put a bullet between his soulless eyes, feral brother of Thane or not.

I didn’t know what he was going to do. He could’ve torn her arm out of its socket. Flung her from the cliffs. He’s unpredictable. A wildcard. A rabid beast.

I may be a serial killer, but I’m nothing if not predictable.

The dark impulse leaves me shaken, my control slipping like grains of sand through clenched fingers. I am the master of my baser urges, not their slave. To lose that iron discipline, even for a heartbeat…

It’s unacceptable.

Gritting my teeth, I force the unwanted thoughts down, locking them away behind steel doors in the darkest recesses of my mind. I can’t afford to lose focus, not now. Not with the scent of blood and chaos drifting ever closer on the crisp mountain air.

The plume of smoke is a smudged gray slash against the stark horizon, its tendrils curling lazily toward the slate-gray sky. Our target lies just beyond that veil of concealing trees, its walls and wire fences bristling with armed sentries like a hornet’s nest waiting to be kicked.

A grin tugs at my lips at the thought. I live for moments like these, when the hunt reaches its crescendo and the game becomes a matter of life or death. The thrill of the blade, the searing kiss of gunsmoke… it’s an intoxicating high that no drug could ever hope to match.

Which is why this strange new hunger gnawing at my core is so disorienting, so utterly maddening.

I don’t crave Ivy’s pain or her fear.

I want to shield her from it, to keep her safe and untouched amidst the storm of violence about to be unleashed.

It’s weakness, pure and simple.

A crack in my armor that could prove fatal if I let it fester.

Tightening my jaw, I force the tumultuous thoughts from my mind as Thane slows to a halt, raising a fist in the universal signal. Our vanguard has reached the tree line, the looming silhouette of the estate now visible through the skeletal trunks.

‘Whiskey,’ I murmur, the low rasp of my voice cutting through the brittle silence. ‘You’re with me. Time to find our nest.’

The burly alpha nods, already scanning the ridge lines and rocky outcroppings flanking our approach vector. I turn my attention to Ivy, those piercing blue-green eyes snapping to mine with the weight of a physical blow. The black balaclava that covers most of her face just brings those eyes out even more.Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

‘And you’re with me, little rabbit,’ I say, the endearment rolling off my tongue. It irritates me that Thane decided everyone’s calling her that today when I’m certain I coined that name myself, and I don’t like the idea of it resting on anyone else’s tongue, but that’s an argument for a different day.

Her eyes harden in brief defiance before she gives a curt nod, falling into step beside me as I lead the way up a narrow game trail winding higher into the craggy peaks.

Whiskey takes point, his rifle sweeping back and forth as he scans for threats. Despite his penchant for childish antics, the idiot can be deadly focused when the stakes are high enough. And with Ivy in our ranks, they’re higher than they ever have been.

I bring up the rear, keeping Ivy between us as we ascend into the teeth of the freezing wind. Her scent is still masked, and I find myself longing for it in its absence.

But Plague is right. She’s distracting enough as it is.

The urge to grab her, to haul her flush against me and bury my face in the soft curve of her throat is nearly overpowering. I grit my teeth until my jaw aches, fighting against the tide of want roaring through my veins.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’m not some panting rut-boy enslaved to his cock. I’ve been alone with countless omegas over the years, their scents swirling thick enough to choke, and never once have I felt anything beyond mild annoyance at their existence.

But this one… she’s like a siren’s call I can’t resist, even with her scent masked, luring me toward the rocks with each sway of those hips that fill out more by the day. It’s maddening, utterly fucking maddening, and I have no idea how to make it stop.

Up ahead, Whiskey pauses, raising a fist as his eyes narrow. I tense immediately, every sense straining as I scan our surroundings for threats. But then the big idiot simply gestures to a rocky outcropping jutting from the mountainside, its craggy face providing an unobstructed view of the compound nestled in the valley below.

A grin splits my face as I take in the vantage point. Perfect.

‘Set up here,’ I murmur to Whiskey, already slinging my rifle from my back. ‘I’ll take the high ground.’

He scowls at me but he knows better than to argue when it’s showtime. With a curt nod, he unslings his own weapon and drops into a crouch, bracing the heavy barrel on the rocks as he scans for targets through the scope.

I turn to Ivy, holding her gaze steadily. ‘With me,’ I say, already starting to climb the craggy face.

To her credit, she doesn’t hesitate. Just nods once and follows me up, scrambling over the jagged stones with an easy grace that has me gritting my teeth against a fresh surge of need.

Fucking omega.

The outcropping narrows toward the top, leaving barely enough space for the two of us to brace ourselves. Ivy settles in behind me, her back pressed to the icy rock face as she peers over my shoulder.

I can feel the warmth of her body like a brand, the soft press of her curves against my back sending tendrils of heat licking along my nerves. Her breath ghosts over the nape of my neck, raising gooseflesh in its wake.

Gripping the stock of my rifle, I force myself to focus, to channel that seething need into the mission at hand. I move to where there’s a bit more room and take my position, prone on the rock, one eye to the scope. The estate looms in my scope, its walls and parapets swarming with armed sentries making their rounds.

My finger caresses the trigger guard, a lover’s gentle touch as I scan for my first target. There—a lone sentry in the guard tower, his attention drifting as the bitter wind whips icy flurries into his face.

Perfect.

‘You might want to look away for this part, Princess,’ I murmur over my shoulder, to where Ivy has curled up as far away from me as she can, unable to resist one last needling jab. I find myself wanting to get under her skin. To crawl in there and burrow deep, probably as a proxy for the longing to be buried deep inside her cunt.

To my surprise, Ivy doesn’t flinch or avert her gaze. If anything, her eyes seem to glaze with a strange detachment as she watches me line up the shot.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ she breathes.

Our eyes lock for one charged moment, a silent challenge passing between us. Then I turn my focus back to the scope, drawing in a slow, steadying breath as I find my mark.

The gunshot rings out like a thunderclap, the recoil slamming into my shoulder as the sentry crumples to the catwalk in a spray of crimson. My lips peel back in a savage grin as I cycle the bolt, reacquiring my next target through the scope’s crosshairs.

This… this is what I live for. The thrill of the hunt, the heady rush of power as I dole out life and death with each squeeze of the trigger. I’d prefer getting up close and personal at the edge of a blade, but for now, this will have to do. My finger tightens, the second target’s head blossoming into a cloud of red mist as the high-caliber round punches through his skull.

I lose myself in the rhythm, the world narrowing to the tunnel vision of my scope as I methodically eliminate each sentry along the wall. One by one, they fall like a grotesque parody of dominoes, their blood painting crimson arcs across the pristine snow.

The sharp crack of gunfire echoes from the direction of the compound, the staccato rattle of automatic weapons joining the fray. Thane and the others must have breached the inner perimeter, leaving chaos and blood in their wake.

My grin widens as the adrenaline surges, every nerve ending thrumming with dark, primal energy. This is it—the moment the real hunt begins, the crucible of fire and steel that separates the hunters from the prey.

For a moment, I forget I’m not alone. And I haven’t exactly masked the fact that I take delight in my job.

Oh, well. My little rabbit was going to realize the truth sooner or later.

‘You enjoy the show, sweetheart?’ I can’t resist the taunt as I turn to gauge Ivy’s reaction.

But the sight that greets me has the mocking words dying on my lips.

She looms above me, clutching a jagged chunk of rock the size of her fist.

‘I’d give it a five out of ten.’

The words are flat, devoid of emotion. A final deadpan verdict before she brings the makeshift weapon arcing down in a vicious overhand strike.

And then, everything goes black.