Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Akhtar
T he hollowness Akhtar felt inside couldn’t be filled, not by his alpha’s cock, and certainly not by his empty prayers. Akhtar knew he could’ve fought harder. He should’ve run. And yet, he hadn’t. Worse, he submitted. Worse yet, he enjoyed it. The omega cried out for Fernando del Fenix V all through the night when he awoke from their first mutual mated climax in his war tent, until his throat was sore, and his voice was but a whisper… and he loved it!
“How the hell did I let this happen,” Akhtar lamented, exhausted beyond belief, now confined in a regal carriage that was never too far from his alpha’s luxurious tent.
He just wanted to reunite with his sister Rikisha. Now, he was little more than a captive again, constantly watched by Fenix’s closest soldiers: Bethel, Hakeem, Akio, and Erasma, the second-in-command.
Being ravished by an alpha had already rattled the newly awakened omega to his core. But to have begged for it shattered what little sense of pride he’d built up over the years in independence into dust.
Akhtar curled into himself at the base of the Fenix War Hoard’s encampment in front of a long, long caravan of civilians. He’d slinked out from the tent to get some fresh air one night on the road, and now holed himself up in his new home, refusing to return. Even if he wanted to flee, he couldn’t go far in his current state. So, instead, he slept rough under the stars until Fenix would gather him up and tuck him into his furs in the carriage, and Akhtar pretended he was anywhere else but there.
His sense of time was fuzzy, but Akhtar knew a few weeks had passed since the strange noble-born alpha took him. When he first woke up, he was surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar faces, male and female flame dragons who were curious to get a look at Fenix’s consort. Fenix doted on him the first week as Akhtar struggled with his first heat cycle in his natural life. That’s what a healer had said, to Akhtar’s stunned disbelief, as he awoke from his stupor the second week.
The same healer’s silky hands kneaded away all his aches and pains from time to time by order of Fenix, and his near-translucent fingertips applied just the right amount of pressure when he came in for Akhtar’s daily baths, attending to the omega’s every need like a manservant.
The albino, as Akhtar referred to him mentally, informed him that he was, in fact, sick, but not because of his swollen ankle or busted leg. His heat had affected him adversely, worse than any omega the albino had ever seen. Akhtar had insisted he was fine yet was ignored. The medic stared at him with pity when he denied the obvious, but something within his glassy lavender eyes seemed to recognize some truth to what Akhtar was saying.
His heat shouldn’t have hurt him. It was a total mystery to Akhtar how the alpha had turned him—by all accounts—from a barren beta to a bitch in heat overnight, when even the clerics couldn’t bring on a natural heat for their God. And yet, it was true, no matter how much Akhtar denied it. Fenix was his fate.
He wasn’t an omega before Fenix, not in the traditional sense, but now, he was, and Akhtar hated him for it. But that was far from his mind when a beautiful omega approached him under the waning moonlight carrying herbs and a washcloth. Akhtar now understood why soldiers fell in love with their nurses so often. He was dreading the time between the healer’s visits, still confined to the carriage after the incident in the forest and fleeing his mate’s tent. An unspoken rule dictated that Akhtar only roamed the caravan when someone could attend to him, and Fenix was often busy.
He didn’t need a damn chaperone, but that too was forced upon him.
They weren’t precisely comrades, but both being omegas, Akhtar assumed they should be friends. Everyone else treated him like he was made of glass. Though being treated like something precious had benefits, even Akhtar couldn’t deny that. As Fenix’s mate, everyone waited on him hand and foot, and he’d forgotten what grass and gravel felt like under his aching feet.
In Fenix’s royal hoard, Akhtar was the consort of the would-be future king. But what should have felt like a blessing often felt more like a curse. No one dared talk to him or glance too long in his direction as they ambled toward the Lunar Carnevale without further incident. Even Fenix—despite all his boisterous proclamations of Akhtar being his mate and apparent affection during his heat—kept his distance as they drew closer, a spark of worry and wonder in his eye as he forced Akhtar to hide away, not help with chores, not move a muscle that didn’t need to.
Akhtar was used to being alone, only having his sister to keep him company before she was taken from him. But it was one thing to be alone and another to be ostracized in the company of people who should be his allies, maybe even potential hoard mates. And he was going stir crazy cooped up in the extravagant carriage hidden from the others night after night, more and more, like Fenix was worried about him being out in the world.
His total isolation was draining, even more so than his nagging need for Fenix, his scent, his touch, and even the forceful slamming of his hips against Akhtar’s backside.
“I should have run…” Akhtar told himself after climbing back inside his new home and slamming his fist against the wood floor of the carriage he lay in as the albino prepared his nightly bath.
Thinking back on that fateful night, Akhtar knew he wouldn’t have done anything differently even if he had a chance to repeat it all. The way the arrogant alpha looked at him felt like a dare, and Akhtar refused to look weak in front of anybody, especially the cocky sonofabitch that appeared out of nowhere, claiming to be his mate, threatening to bend him to his will. And he did, quite exquisitely.
Akhtar snorted at the memory, still fresh in his mind and still embedded in his tender body. He’d taken the alpha up on his threat and lost, gloriously so, to the point he was dripping and begging for him to stop, like he had wanted Fenix to do, to bow to him and his will.
“Hmmm…” Akhtar hummed as a shadow passed by the curtain blocking the wind from inside.
His nurse was hovering close by for his protection, patient, but, as usual, didn’t speak as he waited for Akhtar to come to him.
“Healer,” he said, “Come sit and talk with me, please? The bath can wait.”
When silence greeted his plea, Akhtar sighed. He’d seen nothing but his prison’s four wooden walls for what felt like an eternity. This new wall of silence would kill him.
“The bath has waited long enough. Are you okay, omega? You are particularly moody on this gloomy night.” Akhtar stiffened when he heard the unfamiliar voice.
He crawled forward and poked half of his body out. Seconds later, he was draped in a heavy blanket. Sighing, he snuggled into its warmth. The scent reminded him of his alpha...
“Thank you,” he murmured to the healer in awe. His tongue felt heavy like he’d forgotten how to speak in front of such an otherworldly beauty.
But seeing how his fellow omega was retreating forced Akhtar to speak again, “No bath tonight then? You usually bathe me.”
The albino huffed in response. “Our water is running low, and I will not refill your bath. So, bathe cold or not at all since you took forever. What’s left is best used for drinking. None of the others get special treatment. You’ll have to be patient, omega. Sweet torture and all, I will carry out my tasks as long as you let me. Fenix only allows me because he can trust no other to have an indifferent eye, seeing as I wash patients. And your delicate state means we must be cautious you stay clean, rested, and well-fed.”
Akhtar folded into himself, embarrassed, missing the latter half of the healer’s sentence. Of course, he was just serving him, probably on Fenix’s behalf. His unfriendly tone and narrowed eyes were a warning, and Akhtar was smart enough to take heed.
A warm bed and a hot meal had always been a luxury for a half breed like him once they fled the cult. So, despite his reservations about being amongst the war hoard under Fenix’s command, Akhtar felt a sense of gratitude. Truthfully, he had felt sick for days, even without the added issue of his sudden heat. It was better not to get on his attendant’s bad side. The elixirs the omega healer fed him helped some but did little to address his underlying illness. There was safety in numbers, even if Akhtar didn’t always feel safe around them, so the omega shut up and quit his whining and longing for companionship.
“...The first heat is always the worst one, you know. It will improve from here on out, especially if what we all suspect is true, omega…” Akhtar’s whole body jolted upward as the other omega’s cool hand cupped the back of his neck.
“I’m sorry. Did I scare you?” he asked, eyes filled with genuine concern this time. “It’s been a long day. Forgive my curtness. Everyone is pulling on my last string for aid.”
Akhtar lowered his head; he was afraid his eyes would reveal his genuine emotions. He didn’t hate his touch. The healer’s razor-sharp attention was something he wasn’t used to, and Akhtar was still vulnerable, unstable heat quenched only partially.
Why Fenix hadn’t returned to fuck him again was a mystery. But the albino was ever present during the night, awakening the memory of the man he wanted to bed again and again with his gentle touch, hands he imagined were Fenix’s.
Akhtar felt no desire to dominate radiating from the omega’s aura, only the spirit of one who truly wanted to console him despite his harsh tone. The way he let down his guard around the healer was a weakness, and Akhtar knew it would most likely become a hindrance as they got closer to the Carnevale. But, like Fenix’s overbearing desire, Akhtar was weak regarding the omega’s patient affection.
“No... It... I didn’t expect you to come so late at night,” Akhtar muttered under his breath. “Or to speak. No one speaks to me here. What is your name, if I may ask? Why do you keep calling me omega when we are the same?”
He chuckled in return, eyes twinkling. “Luna, omega. My name is Luna. Like what they call female alphas, and the home of your Goddess.”
“Luna…” Akhtar tested his name on his chapped lips. “I’m Akhtar, as Fenix probably told you already.”
His delicate features and paleness made Luna appear ethereal on one hand and ghastly on the other, like a wayward spirit in the shape of a man. His touch was like that, too, now stroking the base of his neck and then where Fenix had marked Akhtar as his.
“Are you a mystic, Luna?” Akhtar asked to break the oppressive silence, resisting the urge to brush away a wavy strand of white hair plastered to Luna’s forehead, falling to his mid-back. Akhtar noticed he was the only member of Fenix’s hoard who wore it all long.
“No, I am a warrior like everyone you see here.” He flipped his hand toward the sleeping dragons rolling together for even more warmth than their fiery bodies emitted. “Though I have acted as a cleric since ours… Well, our war cleric died in battle and the healer was injured. Too many tasks for too little men. I’m glad this war is coming to an end.”
“Sorry…” Akhtar didn’t know what else to say.
“Don’t frown like that. I’m not offended in the least by your assumption, I promise you,” Luna said, then sighed. “He marked you so brutally. You must’ve really driven Fenix mad to mark you with his fangs that deeply. The wound will probably never heal.”
“Wh-why did he mark me? Did Fenix tell you why?” Akhtar asked.
“...You are his fated mate. What sort of question is that? What is there to explain?” The first words out of his mouth were a statement, but the way Luna’s voice turned up in question gave Akhtar pause.
He slid his hand across the wood until their fingers touched, Luna’s pale white claws underneath his matching claws, olive-toned skin contrasting sharply against Luna’s ivory tone. They felt like kin, like omegas and frost dragons, even though Akhtar knew that wasn’t the case.
“As an omega, do you know why he bit me like a wolf, even with the magic?” Luna looked almost offended by this question, then he chuckled, a deep, rich, sonorous sound that was music to the omega’s tired ears.
Luna brought his hand to his face, knuckles brushing against Akhtar’s chin. They were the only rough thing on his body, Akhtar surmised, each covered in old scars and fresh wounds.
“Despite what you must think, omega, I am an alpha. We are not the same. So, I don’t know. I’m not pureblooded. I don’t know why he bit you like those savage wolves.”
Luna trailed off at Akhtar’s shock, pulling his hand away to point to Akhtar’s heart, as his eyes flicked to his waist, “Again, no need to frown. Cheer up. You eat well and lay about like a pampered prince. Surely that should be enough to at least open your heart to him.”
Akhtar blushed. The good food was making him round, to the point his clothes were a little too tight. But clothes were in short supply, so he couldn’t change.
“Whatever your futures bring, congratulations. A first attempt rarely results in such success. Maybe we should all start biting our partner’s neck. Maybe then we can reproduce without finding our fated mates like those savages do.”
Luna motioned to his swollen stomach, and Akhtar’s world slanted violently, knowing immediately what he meant. Luna chuckled, holding his stomach, but the sound was hollow and absent any mirth. And Akhtar was spinning, and spinning, and spinning, dizzy with forbidden unbelievable knowledge more earthshattering than learning an alpha had been washing his body and dressing him, seeing him nude.
“It’s not so bad. I mean, that idiot did seed your egg in the middle of a Godsdamned battlefield, but you’re protected here. Every new hatchling is a blessing. Once the Carnevale is over, don’t think you’ll get a second away from Fenix. He’ll be breathing down your neck harder than he can now, with so many civilians to protect. And I’m sure he’ll take care of you thoroughly once again.”
Akhtar couldn’t hear the rest of what Luna said, his world crumbling bit by bit. He had set out to save his family only to create one. This journey had started horribly and was only getting worse by the day.