26. The Art Of Persuasion
26
THE ART OF PERSUASION
~NYX~
" W hat do you mean I have to stay here while you guys do crazy epic shit like hunting motherfuckers and saving a kidnapped sector of Alphas who are being used for ransom?!"
My hands plant firmly on my hips as I stare Dante down, refusing to back away from his hardened gaze. The shadows stir with amusement, their song carrying notes of appreciation for this newfound boldness.
Four days ago, I could barely meet an alpha's eyes. Now I'm challenging one of them directly.
"I get shot ONE time."
"The only time," Kieran huffs, tugging at his turtleneck sweater with obvious discomfort. The fabric clings to him like a second skin, completely impractical for whatever operation they're planning. "We can't deal with you almost dying. That fucking wrecked me and I have enough trauma on my plate that I haven't healed from thank you very much."
The shadows dance with barely contained laughter at his distress – both from the sweater and the memory of my near-death experience.
They recognize the genuine concern beneath his gruff exterior, the way his scent carries notes of lingering fear despite weeks of recovery.
"If we're piling trauma like fucking awards, I have the highest which means I get to come!"
"No." The unified response from Dante, Kieran, and Vale makes me blink in surprise.
My gaze darts to Vale, who immediately throws his hands up in surrender from his wheelchair.
"Nyx, you're literally our first actual Omega. We can't possibly put you in harm's way like that." His expression carries genuine concern as he continues. "These missions are dangerous enough that I can't even go in my condition. We're already down one person – we can't risk you too."
"He's right," Dante adds, his tactical mind clearly running scenarios. "These Alphas we're dealing with are massive, built like us. They could easily overpower you, not counting whatever weapons they're carrying. So absolutely not."
The shadows bristle at his assumption of my weakness, their song carrying notes of challenge and remembered victories.
Six years of survival have taught me more than they realize.
"I could take you down if I wanted," I mutter, letting just enough edge enter my tone to make the threat credible.
Dante groans, pinching the bridge of his nose before extending his hand toward me.
"Alright, so if I offer my hand like this and?—"
I don't let him finish.
My body moves with fluid precision born from years of conditioning, grabbing his outstretched hand and using his own momentum to send him flying across the room.
He crashes into the mountain of stuffed animals I won at last night's fair – a collection that grew to ridiculous proportions before the vendors practically begged us to leave.
The memory of Atlas buying out half another store's inventory just to see me smile flashes through my mind as Dante lands with a muffled "ow" in the pile of plush toys.
The shadows hum with satisfaction, their song carrying notes of pride in this display of carefully honed skill.
My gaze shifts between Kieran and Vale, the challenge clear in my stance.
"I'm out of shape," Kieran immediately surrenders, backing away with hands raised.
"I'm handicapped," Vale pleads before Kieran betrays him with a quick, "Temporarily. So you can toss him."
"Motherfucker," Vale snaps, glaring at his pack brother. "I'm in a wheelchair! Don't be a douche and serve your punishment like Dante!"
The shadows weave through tension with playful energy, recognizing the growing comfort that allows such casual banter. Four daysago, I could barely handle being in the same room with multiple alphas.
Now I'm threatening to throw them around like training dummies.
Rolling my eyes at their antics, I announce.
"I'm gonna ask Atlas."
Their collective groan draws my eyebrow up in question just as Kieran throws his hands skyward.
“We've lost by default."
"Why?" The grin spreading across my face betrays my pleasure at their defeat.
Vale's response comes loud and unfiltered.
"Because Atlas is clearly drunk on pussy. He can't say no to you!"
Satisfaction curls through my chest as I taunt back.
"You would be too if you weren't being all 'cautious.' Hmph."
The shocked look on Vale's face makes the shadows dance with delight. Kieran stutters, trying to recover some semblance of authority.
"W-We're only delaying because you're precious and need time to recover and adapt!"
I wave off his concern with newfound confidence.
"I can go recover in the grave if I have to go back to that shithole in three days, so you better get off on your stupid mission and be back before dinner or else you aren't getting dessert."
The way Dante shoots up from the pile of stuffed animals like someone lit a fire under him sends the shadows into peals of silent laughter.
"I'm starting the car!"
"Fucking traitor!" Vale points accusingly at his retreating back.
Kieran finally admits defeat, stripping off the offensive turtleneck with a heavy sigh.
"I'm gonna go change then 'cause fuck, I really do want her dessert."
The declaration draws a pained groan from Vale, who shoots Kieran a side-eye that quickly transforms into an unreadable face.
His expression shifts from playful annoyance to shocked confusion, brow furrowing as if trying to process something that defies explanation.
"Vale?" The change in his demeanor pulls my attention fully to him, the shadows stirring with sudden interest at this unexpected shift in the atmosphere.
Kieran picks up on the tension, his own amusement fading as he studies Vale's face.
"What's up, Vale?"
The silence stretches uncomfortably as Vale continues staring, blinking repeatedly as if trying to clear his vision. His hand rises to rub at his eyes before he whispers.
"It's gone?"
"What's gone? My shirt?" Kieran's attempt at humor falls flat against Vale's obvious distress.
Dante chooses this moment to return, his dramatic entrance accompanied by a frustrated groan.
"Forgot the fucking keys." He pauses, catching the strange tension in the room. "What'd I miss?"
Vale's attention snaps to him.
"Dante, what do you see?"
The question draws Dante's gaze between Kieran and me, his response starting with characteristic snark.
"Our hot Goddess of an Omega and Kieran the douch—" The words die in his throat as his jaw drops, shock painting his features with the same confusion that grips Vale.
The shadows weave through my mind with the growing tension in the room, their song carrying notes of anticipation and wonder rather than their usual warnings.
Kieran glances down at himself, hands patting his torso as if checking for invisible wounds.
"Am I fully naked or something?"
"What's the deal?" I ask, eyes scanning his shirtless form for whatever has captured their attention. "He's not naked. Just shirtless." My gaze searches for any mark or scar that might explain their reaction. "Is something supposed to be there?"
The question draws a heavy sigh from Kieran as his hand rises to rub at his neck – a gesture that seems more habit than necessity.
"It's just my old bond mark and lack of muscle since I haven't been working out." His voice carries forced casualness that doesn't quite mask deeper pain. "You don't need the long story now, but I had an Omega I thought I'd marry and have kids with."
That’s surprising more with the way he nonchalantly says it, but the instances do make sense, especially when they’re all well over their thirties and probably expected to have an Omega by now.
"All of it was a lie and she betrayed us. Almost got everyone killed." His laugh carries no humor. "But karma's a bitch and she paid the consequence. She died, and I’m just left with the scar from that failed bondship, if you can call it that. The end."
The brief tale leaves me gawking, surprised by both the content and the clipped delivery. But something doesn't add up – my enhanced vision catches no trace of scarring or marks on his neck where a bond bite should have left permanent evidence.
"Kieran." My head tilts as confusion deepens. "You don't have a mark on your neck. Why would you say there's one there?"
The remark hits him with confusion, sending all three alphas into various states of shock. Vale's hands tighten on his wheelchair arms while Dante takes an unconscious step forward. Kieran's reaction proves most telling – his face drains of color as his fingers press against skin that should carry permanent scarring.
"What do you mean there's no mark?" Kieran's voice emerges rough with emotion. "It's been there for seven years. A visible reminder of everything she—" He cuts himself off, turning to Vale. "You can't see it either?"
Vale shakes his head slowly, wonder and confusion warring in his expression.
"It's completely gone, brother. Like it was never there."
"Impossible." The word escapes Dante in a harsh whisper. "Bond marks don't just vanish. They're permanent. A physical manifestation of the connection, even when it's betrayed or broken."
Kieran's neck shows no evidence of scarring or marking that would indicate a previous bond. The skin remains unmarred, carrying only natural texture without a hint of past trauma.
"How long?" Kieran's question comes directed at Vale, voice tight with barely controlled emotion. "How long has it been gone?"
"I just noticed," Vale admits, still studying the unmarked skin with fascination. "But thinking back... I can't actually remember the last time I clearly saw it. It's like..." He struggles for words. “It was there before Ravenscroft invasion though.”
Dante moves closer, tactical mind clearly processing implications.
"Could be connected to recent events. New influences affecting old wounds." His gaze shifts meaningfully in my direction, though he doesn't voice the obvious connection.
"It's different now," Kieran says softly, understanding blooming in his expression as he watches my movement. "Everything's different since..." He trails off, but the implication hangs clear in the air between us.
Since I arrived.
When they rescued me from sterile halls.
"The only way to remove a bond mark is when another Omega is deemed impactful enough on the Alpha to override the previous root of ownership."
Atlas's voice carries from the stairs, drawing our collective attention.
He stands fully equipped in combat gear, every piece of tactical equipment placed with precise care. The shadows stir in humming appreciation, recognizing in his stance the perfect balance between controlled power and careful restraint.
"It's rare," he continues, descending with measured steps. "The implications only manifest when an Alpha who has been marked meets someone who overrides that feeling of purpose an Omega ignites in them." His tone carries the weight of absolute certainty. "The moment an Omega successfully triggers such implications, the previous imprint begins to fade."
It’s a surprising revelation I’ve never heard before.
"The speed of its disappearance depends entirely on how the individual acknowledges and accepts the idea of a new Omega." His gaze fixes on Kieran with uncomfortable accuracy despite his damaged vision.
My breath catches as I realize he's not wearing his blindfold, his eyes slightly open to reveal that haunting combination of white clouding with hints of burning amber beneath.
"Kieran," Atlas's voice drops lower, weighted with meaning, "was the one who caught you in the forest when you were on the verge of death." The revelation makes my heart stutter in my chest. "He cradled you. Begged you to live. Applied CPR in a desperate attempt to revive you."
Each detail lands with precise impact, painting a vivid picture of moments lost to unconsciousness. The shadows stir with recognition, their song carrying echoes of that desperate struggle between life and death.
"He did everything in his power to save you," Atlas continues, with careful emphasis on each word. "Compare that to his response with his previous Omega – watching her perish while feeling only the clinical mourning of losing an Omega, but not the individual herself."
The implications hover in the air between us, heavy with significance that none of us quite know how to process.
"Kieran," I whisper his name, my feet carrying me toward him before conscious thought can intervene.
A blush spreads across his cheeks as I draw near, his gaze dropping as he searches for words to minimize what he did for me.
"It wasn't really that—" His attempt at deflection dies as I rise on tiptoes, pressing my palm against his bare chest while finding his lips in a gentle kiss.
He freezes initially, the surprise evident in his rigid posture before gradually relaxing into the connection.
His response carries hesitation, so different from Atlas's carefully controlled passion. Where Atlas alternates between desperate need and measured restraint, Kieran's kiss speaks of cautious exploration and lingering uncertainty.
I keep the moment brief – just long enough to convey my gratitude in the most intimate omega way possible. When I pull back, I can't help but smile at his reaction.
"Thank you, Kieran."
His face flames brilliant red as he stammers something about changing clothes before practically fleeing upstairs.
Dante's snicker breaks the charged atmosphere.
"Forgot how shy he was with omegas back in the day," he observes with obvious amusement. "Guess some things never change."
"Clearly," Vale adds dryly from his wheelchair.
A moment of comfortable silence settles before I turn my attention to Atlas.
"I want to come with you for the mission!"
The collective groan from Vale and Dante carries notes of familiar exasperation.
"We already told her no," they protest in unison.
Atlas merely arches an eyebrow as I launch into a detailed explanation of why I should be allowed to join them.
My voice grows more animated as I build my case, listing credentials and capabilities with increasing passion.
"You better hurry up so we can enjoy pack sex as dessert because you're all being shy and slow about it, and I know what I'm capable?—"
The rest of my argument disappears as Atlas moves with preternatural speed, his hand finding my throat as he pins me against the kitchen counter.
His kiss steals both breath and protest, tongue claiming my mouth with devastating thoroughness until I'm panting against his lips.
When he finally pulls back, his voice drops to a register that sends heat pooling low in my belly.
"I want my little Goddess wearing nothing but that cute little dark pink set I bought you. The one you complained about that doesn't cover anything." His words paint vivid pictures that make my pulse race. "Laid out on the table where each Alpha is going to eat you out wholeheartedly before you'll suck their cocks generously, in preparation for the fucking they'll deliver all night long."
The explicit description leaves me gawking, my mind spinning with possibilities I'd barely dared imagine. His logic proves frustratingly sound when he adds.
"We can't do that if you're tired from the mission, can we?"
Damn…
"No," I admit quietly, heat flooding my cheeks.
"Then be the good Omega you are and listen to Daddy until we get back, yes?"
"Y-Yes, Alpha..." The words emerge breathless as desire courses through my veins.
"Hmm?" His teeth tug gently at my bottom lip, the slight pinch sending jolts of electricity straight to my core.
"Yes, Daddy."
The admission comes out flustered but certain as my body responds to his dominant presence.
My pussy pulses with need, a reaction he clearly anticipated when he instructed me to wear only underwear beneath my clothes this morning.
His thigh slides between my legs, pressing against my core with deliberate pressure that draws a soft whimper from my throat.
"Good girl."
The praise sends fresh heat flooding through my system moments before his lips claim mine in another searing kiss.
"I'm heading to the van first." One final kiss punctuates his statement before he releases me completely.
At the doorway, he adds.
"Dante. Hurry up."
"Uh...yes...sure...coming..." Dante's flush speaks volumes as he mutters, "That was fucking hot."
His gaze shifts to Vale with sudden concern.
"You better take an energy drink or something because we'll need you for that kitchen dessert shit."
Vale's smirk carries wicked promise.
"Can't take energy drinks with the new meds from treatment today, but I'll have plenty of energy when it comes to our Omega."
"Good, ‘cause if Atlas is in the picture, I feel like we're gonna need it." Dante's departure leaves me still processing everything that just transpired, my body humming with anticipation for their return.
My hand rises unconsciously to my neck where Atlas's grip left a phantom sensation of possession without pain.
Fuck…that was so hot…and amazing…I think.
I'm struck by the profound difference between their passion and Ravenscroft's clinical trials. These alphas see me as a treasure to be cherished rather than an experiment to be tested.
Vale watches me with a knowing smile as I process the implications of what awaits. His presence offers much-appreciated grounding, knowing at least if I have to stay, I’ll have someone to wait with while watching how he works during missions.
It’s a reminder that patience brings the sweetest rewards – a lesson these alphas seem determined to teach through a careful balance of dominance and tender care.
Time stretches before me like honey dripping from a comb, each second marked by growing anticipation of their return.
The mission that seemed so vital moments ago fades beneath the weight of Atlas's explicit promises, leaving me torn between frustration at being left behind and eager preparation for their eventual reunion.
The pink lingerie set that sparked such heated declaration waits upstairs, delicate fabric that barely qualifies as coverage now transformed into an instrument of seduction.
Vale's quiet chuckle draws my attention back to present reality.
“Guess you need a distraction, huh?”
I pout, knowing damn well I’m gonna need something to get my mind off until they come back.
“Yes,” I confess, making his smile simply grow.
“Wanna open a time capsule with me?”
Now that catches my attention with newfound excitement, leaving me clapping my hands together as I whisper, “Time capsule?”
I’m excited to see what he means.