Not a Gift (Tales of the Dreggageggon #3)

Chapter One

Don’t Look Back!

M alichai, Fourteen Years Old

My father brought his new omega wife home today. She brought her little girl with her. She looks just like a little princess in her pink dress, her blonde hair in pigtails and the widest smile I have ever seen on a kid. She’s a tiny little thing and I instinctively want to protect her from the darkness of the outside world. From the darkness living inside the walls of this house. She keeps looking around, her gaze bouncing from one thing to the next, taking in everything this new house has to offer.

“Here is your bedroom,” I say when my father asks me to show her around.

“It’s big,” she says, turning in circles. “Do you sleep here, too?”

A chuckle falls from my lips. “No. My room is across the hallway.”

“What if I have a nightmare?” she asks softly, her big blue eyes staring at me.

“You can always come to me,” I reply, never even considering any other response.

****

F ifteen Years Old

I stare down at my crimson-coated fingers, blood dripping to the floor. Revulsion swims through me and I want to shower more than I want to take my next breath.

“Don’t look so fucking disgusted,” my father says sternly. “This is what you were born to do.”

I want to say something, but my throat is closed up. All I can do is wish that this entire night passes quickly. Tied to a chair in the center of an abandoned warehouse is a man in his late thirties. My father says he is—was—a danger to our family. He was trying to kill my father and take what my father had earned as an Elite. At my hand, I slit his throat like it was the most mundane thing I have ever done. I didn’t even know his name.

This is how my father plans to make sure his little heir falls in line. All this moment has done is solidify my decision to never have anything to do with the godforsaken Black family.

“You did well,” Dante says, placing his hand on my shoulder.

He is my father’s right-hand man in all matters and always at his side. I stare at him in disbelief. How can he praise me for what I did?

“I threw up the first time I killed a man,” he says lowly with a soft smile, trying to reassure me. I don’t want to feel better about what I have done. I deserve to drown in the guilt I am feeling.

****

S ixteen Years Old

I watch like a hawk as some punk kid touches Lyrik’s shoulder, leaning in too close. Before I can think through what I am doing, I stomp over to them. I grab his wrist and twist, bringing him to his knees.

“What the fuck, man?” the kid cries out.

“Don’t touch my sister,” I say, my voice low and threatening. For the first time in my life, I consider killing someone without my father’s order.

“Stepsister,” Lyrik corrects, glaring at me.

“Semantics. You’re a Black now, an Elite, and the riffraff need to know their fucking place.”

What I really want to say is she is mine and no one gets to touch her. But those words will never pass over my lips, they can’t. I’m not in love with Lyrik. It’s just a crush.

“I don’t know what your problem is,” Lyrik says, her hands planted on her hips. “But I need you to hear me. I’m a McMillan, not a damn Black. And you are not in charge of me.”

****

E ighteen Years Old

I am the son of a monster. A man who is ruthless in everything he does, taking no prisoners and accepting no excuses. Not even from his only child. I am expected to fall in line, like a good little heir of an Elite.

But he made a mistake.

He brought an angel into my life.

Lyrik. My eighteen-year-old stepsister.

For years I have tried to convince myself I don’t love her. That what I felt was simply a childhood crush. But I know the truth, deep down in my soul. I can’t seem to keep my eyes off Lyrik, no matter how hard I try. I have made lists in my mind, and I know every reason we can’t be together. But that doesn’t make me love or want her any less.

She is the only girl I have ever wanted, and she is also the only girl I can never have. Lyrik. My eighteen-year-old stepsister. And to make the situation worse, she came into her designation earlier today. I prayed she would identify as a beta, but I have no luck at all. Of course she would be an omega, the one thing we Alphas crave above all else.

My stepsister.

My heaven and my hell.

My dragon has been fighting me to go to her since I shifted six months ago, and now he is insane. Once he scented the omega, he threw his entire might into the fight against me. I don’t know how long I can control him.

That’s why I am leaving. I am damaged by the life my father has thrust upon me. By the deeds I have committed and the blood that already stains my hands. I am dirty. Unworthy. And she deserves so much more than I can ever offer.

And now, I am going to do the most cliché thing I can think of. I am joining the Fighting Forces.

I will run away from the life I have been living, the life I have been forced into. Doing this will keep me far away from her and my asshole father, which is a bonus. She can blossom into the woman I already know she is going to be and live a happy, carefree life. Away from me and the stupid fucking feelings I can’t seem to control.

Away from the darkness that thrives in me.

Away from the damn Black name.

Slinging my bag into the bed of my dark blue pickup truck, I cast a glance at the house I grew up in, but I don’t return. I won’t say goodbye to my father because I don’t feel like having that argument again. And I can’t say goodbye to her. If she asks me to stay one time, only once, I know I will. And then all of this will have been for nothing.

My dragon roars in outrage, fighting me every step of the way. Since I came of age and had my first shift, my dragon has fought me. It is a constant battle to keep him at bay. All he wants to do is go to Lyrik, but I can’t—won’t—allow that to happen.

She deserves more than me and my ridiculous dragon, more than darkness and death, and this is the only way I know how to give that to her. I will give up anything if it means she can have the life she has always dreamed of. I never even had the guts to tell her how I feel. But I know in my dark heart this is for the best.

I have done my best these past two years to shelter her from my life. From what my father does for a living, from what he makes me do, but I know she is aware. After all, she isn’t stupid.

There isn’t a future for us together. My soul is blacker than black while she is pure, perfect light. I won’t taint her. I won’t drag her down to my level.

It’s time for me to grow up and get over this infatuation I have with my stepsister.

****

T wenty-Six Years Old

I am heading home.

I swore I would never return but I don’t have a choice in the matter. An explosion ended my career as a member of the Fighting Force in the blink of an eye. The damage was so extensive, even the magic from the shift and my dragon could not heal it. I am damaged beyond repair.

And now I have to face the people I ran from. It has been eight years since I saw my father or Lyrik. We send birthday and Christmas cards but that is the extent of our communication.

I have no idea what will wait for me when I get there, but I have nowhere else to go.