Wild Omega (The Feral Actress #1)

1. O-11

Chapter one

O-11

The advantage to being psychotic is you can get away with things other omegas can’t. The orderlies barely even fuss anymore when I stick my hands into their snacks, and throwing chairs usually only earns me eye rolls. Oh, and sometimes a sedative, because they’re bitches. Did I mention I hate needles? Loathe. Despise. Abhor. The only upside is that the stinging injection quiets the mess of voices in my head.

Those voices can get overwhelming, even if they belong to my alphas—the ones who’re coming to get me out of this hellhole of a so-called hospital. Although everyone scoffs at the idea I can hear them.

The cute little button of an omega with glossy brown hair and burn scars down her neck who’s walking toward me doesn’t believe me either. She scans me over and sucks on her bottom lip. “I’m really sorry, O-11. I shouldn’t have said what I did before.”

I cock my head, studying her wide eyes and the rippling raw flesh cascading down her neck. Savage burns from a fire.

“Hmm,” I murmur, thinking back. Last time we spoke, she said no one’s coming to get me, and other mean stuff. I wrinkle up my nose at the memory. “You were wrong. We’re not unwanted and forgotten,” I muse aloud. What happened after that feels a little hazy, which probably means I overreacted, and the nurses went into bitch mode. Again.

She winces. “Yeah, I was wrong. Forgive me?”

Lip service, but I’ll forgive her because she’s harmless. And cute. “Sure.” My gaze slides around the room to the real devils sitting behind their LCD monitors. Two of them keep one eye on me, trying, but failing, to be discreet. Those eyes silently warn me what awaits if I put a foot out of line.

Or tell the truth.

The other omegas can never find out why this place really exists.

“Where’s O-4?” the teenager asks, and I spin around, searching the small group of omegas gathered to socialize.

“She’s not here.” I blink rapidly as my brain works overtime, my heart sinking.

O-4’s been here the longest of all of us, and she’s my favorite. Even if she is sweetly na?ve. In fact, all these beautiful women are innocent, floating serenely along life’s ocean waves, unaware of the sharks circling below the water waiting to rip their throats out. Only I know, but no point opening their eyes now, since I can’t help them. Can’t even help myself.

The scarred omega walks up to a staff member we’ve often seen with the missing blonde omega. “Excuse me, where’s O-4?”

The nurse clears her voice, eyes shifting away and then back to us. “Oh, she got adopted.”

Fucking liar. Woman with a powerful scent like O-4? Carved up and fed to dogs, more likely.

“We’re so happy for her.” The nurse glances at me again, silently daring me to contradict her. I can practically hear the squirt of sedative syringes expelling air bubbles all around the room.

“That’s two now,” O-18 muses, tucking brunette locks behind her ear. Her gaze shifts nervously across the reduced group of omega women. She’s clever, so maybe she’ll figure something is up with this bullshit clinic.

But nothing good comes from learning the truth. Peeps who do earn a fast ticket out of here to someplace worse. Only I stay like a revolving door, lying about what I know as I go through the motions, used until I’m dizzy and creaky.

A skeptical look crosses O-18’s face as she turns to study the staff peppered around the room. She might be closer to the truth than is good for her.

“Her pack came for her,” I murmur, letting the chill that rides up my spine blow out into a full shudder. I pull O-18 in for a one-armed hug and beam, shaking off the premonition. “Isn’t that wonderful? Her alphas came to get her!” I tug the clever little omega toward the table where the others deal out the Uno cards, hoping to distract her. “My alphas are coming for me next.”

O-18’s eyes widen in alarm at my words, and she beams with too much enthusiasm. “Yes, they are. Sit next to me, O-11, and tell me about them.” Eager not to send me on a psych out.

It seems my outburst last time traumatized her a little, but shit happens. Especially around here. A trickle of heat runs through my belly, and I clench my muscles in response. She asked about my pack, so I won’t let this opportunity pass by.

“Hmm, I think I might have three in my pack.” That’s how many distinct whispers rattle through my head.

Her brows lift. “A small pack, then?”

“Yes. Not many men out there can handle someone like me.” I flick hair over my shoulder and demand to know why the black-haired omega, O-9, hasn’t dealt me into the game. She rolls her eyes and flips out an extra card pile at the speed of a machine gun.

O-9 is the quiet sort; probably quieter today because she’s missing O-4. They’ve both been here for years and years. With her jet-black hair and hideously long lashes, O-9 seems like the kind of omega who ought to be spoiled like a princess. Instead, she’s stuck in here with a crazy like me. And devils like them .

The teenager beside me runs fingers self-consciously across her charred shoulder. “I think I’d want a big pack. Lots of interesting things going on, lots of laughter. Never alone.”

What a beautiful pipe dream. I squeeze her hand. “You’ll get it.” Then I slap down a Draw Four on her, and she chokes and flicks my hand away, calling me a bitch. I smirk.

A second flush of heat steam-rolls through my abdomen, and I tense up.

Oh, fuck no! Not today.

Not ever, if I had a choice. I swallow down a terrified whine and detach my mind from my body. My mind is a far more interesting place, filled with the hushed murmurs of my alphas and dozens of movie characters. No one believes me, but screw everyone else because I know what’s real.

Not that I can hear what my alphas are saying or sense how they’re feeling, like a genuine bond should allow. All I hear is a whisper I can’t quite make sense of.

“You okay?” an omega asks, stroking my shoulder.

“I’m perfect,” I mutter, throwing a card on the pile. Not even sure if it’s the right color, but luckily the number matches. Makes me damn twitchy, listening for the voices. If I could just make sense of a few words, it might be enough to stave off the growing horror clamping around my belly.

I’m so busy listening for my alphas on the next turn that O-18 leans over and plucks a card out of my hand to play it. I don’t care. My world slowly narrows to a dark tunnel filled with monsters who want to devour me.

“A small pack,” I murmur, clutching at anything to anchor my fraying mind. “Alphas who’ll escort me to my movie premiere. We have to all fit in one car.”

The other omegas exchange glances, but I pretend not to see. They have no idea how brilliant an actress I am. My sanity depends on the quality of my acting. For that matter, so does their peaceful, ignorant existence here in the halfway house between hell and purgatory.

And I maintain the facade 24/7, except for those three days every two months when nature strips me back to bare bones—when I’m in heat.

I shiver.

“Shit!” I mutter between clenched teeth. Any moment, my insides could melt, and the scent of my slick will betray me. It makes my nose even more sensitive to the flood of scents in the room. “Do you ladies all know how badly you stink?” I clench my teeth. I’m more sensitive than others to scents on a good day, but now I’m mouth-breathing through their thick perfumes.

That teases some chuckles out of the ladies, and the pleasant noise eases some of the pressure closing like a noose around my loins. Omegas rarely smell good to one another, but we bear with it because we have so little companionship in this forgotten hole masquerading as a hospital for sick omegas.

The door opens, and we all spin around because everyone’s already here, except for the missing O-4. A nurse leads in a petite boy with the long limbs of a not yet full-grown teen, and my heart drops like a lead fishing weight.

“Ladies, say hello to O-20.”

A fucking male omega. They’ll stuff the rare specimen and stick him in a museum. Not. Too many ways to make money from a sexy rarity like him. And my word, he reeks!

His eyes widen as he spots us, and he ducks behind the nurse’s shoulder.

O-18 is off her ass and crossing the room in an instant. She peeps around the nurse’s shoulder and offers her hand. “Come play cards with us, cutie. We don’t bite.”

I swear her gaze flits to me, and I should slap the girl, but I’m too busy fighting the shakes vibrating my insides. Maybe this time around I’ll control it. I can stop everything else, act in any situation, so why the fuck can’t I fake my way through the role damn Mother Nature handed me? Just this once.

If my alphas could walk in through that door and take me away now, I’d never be a bitch again. Or I’d try my hardest, at least. That has to be worth something.

Why haven’t they come yet?

I track the boy through my lashes as O-18 leads him to the table. They’re probably the same age, eighteen or nineteen. Maybe younger. This place is going to chew them up and spit them out broken, like it does to all of us.

The burned girl glares at me. “O-11, you’re staring,” she hisses under her breath.

I shrug. “He’s pretty.”

The lad flushes, and I chuckle.

“Don’t mind her,” O-18 says to the male omega, holding up her palm to block my view. “She looks scary, but she’s not really.”

I lean my chin on my hand and stare for a few moments longer. Will one of my alphas be pretty like him? No one would usually describe alphas as pretty, but I’d like one to be. Someone delicate, not pure strength.

I pick up the cards and shuffle them with trembling hands, spiling a few onto the table. Everyone leans forward to help, and under the cover of the chaos, I slip a couple of cards into my pocket for later.

These damn shakes are getting worse. It might be the strength of scents in the room, which only grows worse with the addition of a pungent male omega. O-18 doesn’t seem bothered; in fact she pulls his chair closer to hers until they’re touching so she can teach him how to play. Good for her.

I breathe through my mouth as I deal out. The cards blur and seem to double as sluggish waves of heat plow through me. Ticklish sweat forms along my hairline and slowly creeps to gather under my ears. I blink through the prickling gray dots, silently begging my body not to do this.

But it’s no use.

“They’re coming,” I announce, shoving my chair back. I have to get out of here. The two vulture nurses appear at my side immediately, like they can fucking teleport.

“Let’s get you back to your room,” one says.

“I want to swim,” I say, pushing them away. Anything to cool the fiery heat I’ve been keeping at bay all day. Surely this time I’ll hold out.

“Bye, ladies . . . and gent.” I wave to the omegas and stride from the room so fast the staff jog to keep up. If I can reach my door and isolate in my room, I might buy myself an extra afternoon.

“Something wrong, O-11?” Bitch Number One asks, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Nothing. I’m waiting for my alphas.”

She scoffs. “Of course.”

My temperature spikes, and I double over, immediately plunging my head into the nurse’s belly, as if it’s her comment that’s pissed me off instead of my body faltering. “Don’t say it!” I snarl. Fuck, I’m a hairbreadth away from losing my sanity.

She catches herself against a handrail on the walls and wheezes a little. “You know you’ll pay for that, Eleven.”

I’m not listening because I’ve made it to my door. Safe; I can picture a baseball referee opening his arms.

A sticky sensation glides down my leg and tears instantly burn behind my eyes. Fuck!

Bitch Number Two leans on my door, blocking me from slamming it shut. “Thought you could run away from your heat, omega?” He laughs, shoulders jerking with the sharp bark. “Don’t you know by now your cycle is as predictable as the calendar itself?”

I swing about and clench my hands, the sweet taste of victory dissolving into bitterness.

He grins with a nasty, mocking expression that I want to bite clean off his face. He lifts a walkie talkie to his mouth. “Eleven is in heat. We’re heading to the nest now.”

“Fuck off!” I scream, lunging at him. “I’m not going!” My soul is that of a hellcat who will beat him to a pulp; unfortunately, my body still belongs to an omega, and an omega in heat is weak as piss.

They both chuckle as they trap my arms behind my back. “You know your body wants it.”

The first whine slips through my throat. “Not the nest,” I beg, trembling all over. Anything but that. Omegas are supposed to love cushions and blankets and the dark during their heats.

Not me. Not ever.