Chapter 20 The Scent Test #2
“Lee, I have a question.”
“Yes.”
“Who’s to say we are matched? Me or…anyone?”
I turn in my chair until I see Man-ho, and he’s looking at me like a goddamned predator. Oh, no. I’m in danger. He turns his head, like a doll would, to his men.
“Do not move!” He alpha-barks, and his influence rushes out of him like a flash flood.
Jake’s influence had descended like a heavy blanket, but Man-ho’s crashed into us with pure devastation.
I’ve never felt anything like it before.
Man-ho’s command was for his men, but it sends my omega body into pure submission.
He yanks me out of my chair and throws me headfirst onto the table.
I emit a sound to try to calm him, like a purr and whimper combined, and it’s totally involuntary.
My legs are dangling off the edge of the table.
His hand is holding me down by the back of my neck.
He goes still. I push the sound coming from my chest louder.
He grips my neck and uses it to yank me back up to standing.
The men haven’t moved an inch. Like they are frozen. Even their expressions are neutral. They won’t help me.
Man-ho pulls a knife out of his pocket, and it slides open. He presses it to my clavicle.
He drops the hand on my neck, but immediately grabs my torso and pulls me close to him. He’s so rough, and I know I’ll bruise.
“If you truly think any of you are scent-matches, then try to overcome my alpha influence to save your mate—because if you don’t, I will slice her ear to ear and we can hear her pretty little voice one last time.”
No one even makes a noise. Man-ho’s influence hardens in the room, making it feel like we are getting strapped in.
He twists me so my neck is bare to him. I whimper for my life. “What if I bite her? Would that spur you to act?”
That’s it. I’m screaming. I’m screaming so damned loud. But I’m not. Nothing is coming out. “That’s a good girl. Stay quiet.”
He scrapes his teeth along my neck.
I desperately seek out help from each of the other men. No one has moved, still. No one even looks like they are trying. I’m trying, though. I’m pushing and pushing and pushing.
When will this end? If one of these guys successfully breaks Man-ho’s hold? I immediately know I don’t want that. That would mean I’m gone. This man would take me away from the Meier Pack. I don’t want a single one of these feral fuckers to take me. So where does that leave me?
I want to just wait for Jake to find me.
He’s got to be looking. I was snatched from him not too long ago.
Freddie and Shadow were right there. Sabbies and Jake were one level down (so it’s got to be this same level I’m on?
Or am I in the basement level now?) I haven’t left the building. It can’t be that big.
Instead of biting me, Man-ho licks up the side of my face. Gross.
“Aren’t omegas just the most adorable things?
Can you all hear the noise coming from her chest?
She’s trying her best to calm me down. But what her body doesn’t realize is that I’m already very calm.
You know, for the longest time, I believed omegas were utterly useless.
Their only purpose was to make alpha babies.
They are barely human, you know? Their physiology and personalities are all designed to procreate with alphas to produce more alphas.
But I’ve since learned they have many uses beyond fucking.
Like this noise she makes. Fascinating. Also, their nesting is not completely useless.
An alpha can use time in their omega’s nest to heal any number of things: depression, old wounds, and hone their minds to solve problems. An omega’s fragility is also something to marvel at.
The most powerful predator in the world procreates with something so small and soft.
You’d think their kids wouldn’t be as strong.
But alpha chromosomes don’t adopt traits associated with their omega parent’s size.
But what it does take is their intense need to perpetuate the species.
“It’s too bad she’s so weak. Too weak to ever be considered an equal. Too pretty and sweet to stand next to an alpha and be respected. Too soft and lovely…”
Man-ho pets my body with the knife in his hand. Over my breasts and across my belly and hips. This mother fucker better not be getting turned on.
I cannot listen to any more of his pontificating.
It’s grating on my ears. He’s acting like he’s the first idiot who’s said out loud that omegas are weak, useless sex dolls.
Like he’s so damned profound. I get it—it is so difficult to imagine the girl who goes into heat every six weeks and requires men to shoot their cum in her mouth and knot her pussy might be worthy of respect.
I’m not even a whole person. I can barely hold a job.
I can’t live on my own. And then, on top of that, one of these alpha-designated assholes can casually use his alpha bark on me, and I become their slave.
And yet I’m in here, inside of me, and I feel like a real person.
I don’t feel like I’m any different from anyone.
Do I not bleed when cut? Do I not cry when hurt?
Do I not hunger and thirst and war with my own nature?
Do I not have ambition and love, and hate?
I can hate just as well as anyone. I see you just as you see others.
Alphas think they are more than everyone.
They are more cunning and violent, and powerful.
Yet I see how fucking useless they are.
I’ve experienced it firsthand.
Their alpha bark has no value because they’ve never fucking used it for anything other than benign oppression. What is it for if not to render their victim quiet enough to take their violence?
An alpha can become feral, which means they are dangerous to everyone around them.
At worst, an omega will get bond-sickness—which basically means she could die of a broken heart.
We take everything and bury it inside our bodies, keeping it away from the world.
While an alpha inflicts all his insecurities and pain onto everyone around them.
Sorry, I’m a soft and sweet, and lovely sex doll. At least I’m not an unhinged nightmare person.
The more I think about how little and small and useless alphas are, the less I feel Man-ho’s influence on me. It’s like it’s running away down a drain. But as I look around, they are still being held by his power. But not me.
I’m not sure why his influence is sliding away from me. Perhaps he thinks he doesn’t need to hold me in it anymore. That I’ve proven my agreeableness.
When I was younger, I took a self-defense course.
They taught me how to get out of a hold just like this.
I don’t remember all the mechanics, but I remember one.
You don’t lift your leg to then kick back.
Your assailant will see you doing it and move out of the way.
You have to just kick back from a standing position.
I close my eyes and try to imagine exactly where his crotch is in relation to my hip. I’m going to use my hip as a hinge.
He’s still talking. Talking about how he’s realized omegas have worth because we serve him in so many ways. I wiggle my toes to test my ability to move my body at will. I’m completely out of his influence now.
His crotch is too high up. There’s no way I can kick his nuts. What else is full of nerve endings and within my reach?
“Furthermore, they are nice to look at…aghurgh.”
The heel of my shoe slams into the bone of his shin, and I continue to scrape it down as hard as I can all the way to his foot.
He releases me so he can use his hands to flail about. I ball up my fist around my thumb and spin around to punch him in the middle of his face. Pain like no other radiates from my fist to my elbow. I cry out in agony. I think I broke something.
All I can think is “out, out, out,” so I run out of the room. I remember how we got here, so I just retrace my steps as fast as humanly possible. I’m not even sure my eyes are open because my hand is in so much pain.