Chapter Seventeen
Halley
My body is stiff, my calf muscles protesting as I take lumbering steps towards the bunkhouse. I scoop up my shower supplies and the standard issue scratchy towel buried at the bottom of my pack.
I approach the tent Prime Asshole indicated as the shower, and cringe.
It’s not even a tent, rather a line of pallets on the ground with canvas strung around them as privacy screens.
The shower head is suspended from the swaying branch above and connected to a bucket of cold water below. I take a moment to figure out how to turn on the shower pump, but once it’s going, I regret it.
The water is freezing.
Shivering as the cold water bites against my bare skin, I hop from foot to foot and hastily scrub myself down with suppressant soap. It leaves my skin feeling uncomfortably tight and raw. To distract myself, I let my thoughts drift back to the mysterious encounter with the enigmatic Alpha.
Blaze.
The name suits him. He appeared like a wildfire, his energy engulfing everything in its path. Mischievous, bright, and dangerous.
Recalling his sharp features, I’m struck by a startling amount of puckered scars marring his skin. Burn marks, if I’m not mistaken.
Remembering the big scar across Prime Asshole’s face, and I wonder how much action this team sees. Enough to receive permanent scars on skin that’s supposed to be impenetrable.
Digging through my pack, I drag out the military-issued uniform I’m supposed to wear from now on. I hold up a pair of camouflage patterned trousers and sigh in frustration.
Just by looking at the new trousers, I know it’s going to be a struggle to fit.
I rub the fabric between my fingers, and sigh. It’s rough, made of thick, tough fabric. It’ll feel like sandpaper on my sensitive, soft Omega skin. Biting my lip, I tug them on and huff in frustration as they get stuck on the wide curve of my upper thighs.
Yeah, definitely not designed for voluptuous curves.
The battle begins, and I jump up and down and wiggle my hips like a woman possessed until they finally slip over my bottom.
I hear seams pop, but they hold together.
My narrow waist, another trademark of an Omega, means the button closes easily but leaves a large gape of fabric at the back.
They’re also much too long for me, fabric pooling around my feet comically.
Fracking brilliant. I roll up each trouser leg so I don’t trip over the excess fabric.
The shirt is made of simple cotton with a round neck and short sleeves. The olive green color matches what the Alphas were wearing, except I don’t have a stitched name tag. I guess I don’t need one. My ‘name’ is hanging from my throat in the form of an actual rut-damned dog collar.
I stuff my breasts into the shirt like a tube sock, then wrestle my arms into the sleeves. I bend at the waist like a circus contortionist trying to pull myself inside out. Finally, after some serious wrangling, the shirt hugs my breasts tightly and molds to my torso.
There isn’t a mirror, but I know if I could see myself, I’d look ridiculous. Scandalous even.
My nipples are straining through my bra, erect and determined to be seen. The shirt is so tight, there is even the faint outline of my puffy areolas.
These clothes clearly aren’t designed for someone with my body shape. They’re for a female Beta with standard womanly curves. I briefly consider putting my filthy uniform back on, but after Prime Asshole’s insistence I follow his orders without question, I decide to maliciously comply.
Sucking in a deep breath, I gather my frustration into a shield around me.
Want me to follow your rules? Sure, you’ll have to deal with the curvy consequences.
Leaving the shower block feels like walking out into enemy territory. The base is just as eerily silent and still as it was when I arrived this morning. I wish there were more people around. My instincts are twitchy. I can’t shake the sensation of being watched.
I drop off my bag on my sad looking bunk.
My stomach growls loudly, and I clamp my hands over my midsection. I’m beyond hungry. If Prime Asshole isn’t going to feed me, then I’m going to do it myself.
Exiting the bunkhouse, I follow my nose towards a delicious smell and peek my face through the doorway of the tent next door.
Bingo.
There is a series of camp cooking material set up within – temporary but functional. A pot of steaming stew sits on a table emitting the most wonderful aroma. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone without three square meals a day, and I’m no longer used to the gnawing bite of hunger.
“Finders keepers,” I mutter to myself, pluck a bowl from the table and ladle myself a healthy scoop.
I sit down at the metal table and shovel the stew into my mouth, barely pausing to chew.
It’s delicious and I think I might cry at the glorious taste of food.
Whoever made this has a serious talent for taking basic, military-issued food supplies and making it delicious.
As my blood sugar rapidly restores, my body fills with warmth and my head clears.
I sense them first.
A tingling feeling starts low in my belly and then a mix of scents curl around me. My hand freezes, the spoon halfway to my open mouth.
Deep, rumbling voices reverberate from outside and are coming closer. The crunch of gravel of multiple footsteps halt right outside the food tent’s entrance.
“When were you going to tell us our pretty little guest had arrived?” It’s Blaze, and the sound of his rasping voice makes my body hum with attraction.
“You need to pay better attention during briefings… better yet, turn up for them,” Knox grunts.
“It’s her, isn’t it? I can smell her.” Another voice resounds, much deeper than the others. It’s familiar, and I struggle to place it.
“Yes, LT, it’s her.”
They pause, the silence only broken by the haunting call of an owl, its hoot reverberating from deep within the forest.
“She’s in there,” the one called LT breathes with a hint of disbelief and trepidation. “In there, right now. Like… where we eat. Right now.”
The way he says it, it’s like he expects a wild animal to launch out of the shadows and tear his throat out.
I think I can hear Prime Asshole’s teeth grind as he confirms with a clipped, “Keep a lid on it.”
Keep a lid on what?
“And stick to the plan,” a third voice adds, and I immediately recognize the speaker. The Beta driver. The one from the ICU with sharp, intelligent eyes.
It’s the same thing he said this morning, and I wonder what ‘the plan’ is.
“We will,” Prime Asshole snaps defensively. “She’s one of us for now. We’ll treat her the same as our brothers.”
“Good luck with that. She certainly doesn’t smell like you fuckers,” Blaze says with a chuckle. “You should’ve seen her today, all sweaty and making the sexiest sounds.”
“Blaze!”
“I’m just sayin’, I think we’re fucked and this plan ain’t gonna last a week,” Blaze says, his laugh taking on a dark, sultry tone.
His laugh, so carefree and yet filled with a seductive promise, stirs something inside me – some primal instinctual urge that makes me want to rub against him. I shake my head.
They have to know I can hear them, right?
As Alphas, there is no way they don’t know I’m in here.
Do they think I can’t hear them? Surely they know an Omega has enhanced senses too.
“Why did it have to be her?” LT asks, his vowels broad and round, an accent I can’t place but am very attracted to. It sounds like he’s angry, and my fear doubles.
“More like, why us? We’re overqualified to be babysitting.”
Well, screw you too, sexy Beta.
There goes the thought that he might be on my side. He’d shown glimpses of kindness, but hearing him now, I’m certain he’d rather eat his shoe than help me.
Prime Asshole snarls and the others fall immediately silent.
“We don’t have a choice. It’s our duty to follow orders and execute them to the best of our abilities. We may not believe the outcome will be worth the effort, but we’ll perform this mission to the same high level as all the others. Is that clear?” His voice brokers no further discussion.
“Yes, Prime Alpha,” their voices boom in sync. They all seem so dominant, yet they shout the submissive words without hesitation. Knox is undoubtably the leader of this team.
They don’t want me here and I don’t want to be here. I shove the hovering spoon into my mouth and chew the cooled stew mechanically.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
I flinch and choke on a hunk of potato.
Prime Alpha Knox stands beside me with his arms behind his back and stares down at me with a disgusted look on his face.
I gulp loudly to get the food down, spluttering ungracefully before speaking. “Oh, er. Hi, Prime Alpha.”
“Who gave you permission to take that?”
I stare at him in confusion before I remember to avert my eyes. I can imagine what Dazz’s advice would be, ‘Don’t challenge the hunky killing machine, Halley.’
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” I say, wiping the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand. “I didn’t know when meal time was.”
He watches me with cold eyes for a few moments, and I silently wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
I’m frustrated and confused all at the same time.
He expects me to know and follow a set of rules, but he hasn’t told me what they are.
It has to be on purpose, to put me on edge.
I mean, he can’t be that much of a dickhead. Surely.
I feel the moment he notices my uniform.
The aura in the tent shifts from frosty to down-right flammable. His hackles rise and a deep, menacing growl snarls from his lips.
So much for not challenging the gigantic murder-trained soldier. Sorry, Dazz.
I briefly notice movement at the entrance of the tent, but keep my gaze focused on the Alpha suddenly enraged with me.
“Omega Sparks, what do you think you’re wearing?” He speaks with a jaw tightly clenched, forcing out his words. His eyebrow is twitching and his nostrils flare as his gaze sweeps over my body.