Chapter Seven
Elizabeth
“We will not be upset if our joinings do not result in younglings, little one. But we’ll surely enjoy the challenge of filling you with our seed,” the huge, teal-skinned alien with model-shaggy black hair says.
My eyes widen. That’s one way to say they want to cream-pie me, I guess.
At my silence, he scoops me up, pressing me to his, frankly gigantic, chest. Geez, these guys must be seven feet tall.
“I can walk,” I say as I squirm, trying to make sure my body is covered. The one more-turquoise-colored guy, the tallest and slenderest—which isn’t saying much as he’s still built like a brick shithouse—is shirtless, so I imagine that’s what I’m draped in. It smells... good.
The one holding me answers quietly, “That is well, little omega, but you are no burden to carry. Besides, I do not want any others to gaze upon your gorgeous nude body.”
I don’t know what to say to that so I keep my mouth shut. I see the gray-haired alien, skin a pretty rich greenish-teal, holding my bag as we stride down the hallway. His face is closed off and haughty. Or maybe that’s how they all look, given their ridiculously sculpted bone structure.
“So, how do you run with no tail?”
My head turns and I study the “short” one.
Though he’s probably still got a foot on me.
His face is friendly, a small smirk on his face—and some unusually pointy canine teeth, and his rich purple horns curl back in a dangerous manner.
Hmm, they don’t all look like pretentious assholes like the gray haired one, I guess.
My eyes fall back to his tail. It’s thick at the base, thinning out towards the tip. More like a lizard’s than a dog’s.
I look back to him, “I don’t know, we just do. How do you guys poop?”
He lets out a bark of laughter but the gray-haired one makes an unimpressed noise.
I clamp my mouth shut firmly. Maybe I should observe and keep my trap closed.
My eyes take in the very generic hospital office. Universally bland, I guess.
But the bright orange-skinned shirtless guy—with four arms—not so much. He grins at me from behind the desk he sits at, and opens his mouth. My alien doesn’t slow.
The orange guy stands quickly, crossing the room, “Nice to meet you, human. Here is my chip.” He holds out a tiny thing about the size and shape of a thumbnail.
The beefcake holding me stops.
“Uh, thanks,” I say softly, reaching down to take it.
“My name is Fohux. I’m also an off-planet omega. If you need to talk...” he trails off and my alien starts for the door.
One of the others of the pack opens it, and I study his horns as he does. They are the deepest purple, and look textured, and sturdy. I wonder if they still serve a purpose.
As we step outside, I blink quickly. The light is orange-ish. Like from one of the best sunsets of my life or something.
The short alien holds out his hand. “I’ll hold that for you, given you don’t have anywhere to put it.”
I hand the ‘chip’ over, while I consider if his tone was flirty or not. Movement catches my eye and I look out at the exceedingly narrow pink street.
“How long was I out?” I ask softly as my eyes take in the city.
It’s very low to the ground, for the cities I know, anyway, only a few buildings higher than three stories dot the landscape, though the buildings are close together, like I’d expect in a metropolis.
And the information packet had said that I was going to one of the largest cities on the planet of Celnoe.
The buildings are somewhat rounded, but more surprisingly, with plants growing on the top. Blue plants. I blink harder.
“Not long, little omega,” responds the one with gray hair and whose horns stand up higher off his head than the others.
I consider that. Maybe it has to do with where their planet is?
“Is it sunset?” I ask.
“This word does not translate,” the tall, slender one who’s skin leans greenish, answers.
“Um, is your star setting for the day? Like... Is it almost night time?” These language transmitters are amazing, but I never realized how much of our language was idioms.
“No,” he answers, looking at me, his eyes the deep blue-gray of a stormy sky.
Before I can come up with a response, a large, very round vehicle pulls up. No one is driving it. It doesn’t have any kind of wheel. The top is a dark glass, the bottom maybe some type of plastic. Do aliens have plastic? Fuck, I did not spend enough time researching shit this last week.
One of them presses his entire hand, five fingers, I note, to it and a hidden door swings inward. The big guy holding me eases us in first like I weigh no more than a bag of potatoes.
Inside the vehicle, the top appears perfectly clear, and my head swivels around, taking in the buildings around us. I see one alien that looks similar to mine standing next to a building, plucking—what I assume are fruit—off a roof-plant. That’s a smart use of space.
The other aliens pile in and soon what seemed like a large vehicle is a bit claustrophobic.
The dude holding me sits me up like I was a doll and for whatever fucked-up reason, that runs a thrill of excitement through me.
I clutch the huge shirt to my chest as I settle myself, my naked ass on this guy’s pants.
I clear my throat. “Can I have some clothes?” I ask, looking between them.
“There are some for you at our home,” the one holding me says.
“Well.” I sigh, a bit frustrated, “Can I know your names? The information packet listed them but I have no idea who is who.”
The short one looks chagrined. “I apologize, little omega. I am Wells, the fourth of pack Gathea. That makes me the ufura; so this is my failing.” He looks embarrassed.
“Holding you is Zallan, our first, our aleron.”
The big one with the...full circle purple goat horns.
The short one with the blue curls continues, “Ryson is next to you,” he nods to the gray haired one, “Our second, our ebondenn. And Nara is here,” he indicates the tall, slender one with blue hair tightly braided down his back. “Nara is the third, a charax.”
I look over them, attempting to memorize who is who. “Some of your words, your titles, I think, did not translate.”
Nara, the tall one answers, “That is unsurprising, given that your ‘Earth’ does not have packs. You are right, omega,” he smiles at me, “that they are titles, designations, we call them. And you are Elizabeth, our omega.”
I think on that. “Do I not have a designation? Since you’re all alphas and then have a designation?"
“No,” answers Ryson, the gray haired one, answers, eyes like the Caribbean Sea. “We are all alphas, and we have... locations in the pack, jobs. But you are our only omega.” He stares at me hard, those pretty eyes trying to convey something, but I’m not sure what.
“So... there are no betas in your... our... pack?”
“Not yet,” Wells, the nice one says, “There are Celnoe males and females that are betas, but none have meshed with our pack. Several other nearby planets have betas that can be found in our Celnoe packs as well.”
He must see my eyes widen for he hurriedly adds, “And now that you are a pack member, you will also have a say in who joins the pack. Even if another omega was matched to us, you’d have the power to overrule the match.”
I look out the window, feeling overwhelmed.
The vehicle is driving itself over the pink street-ribbon thing.
It looks painted onto the ground of the city, not something solid, and low-shrubby plants grow very close to it.
Again, with blue leaves. These are more of a sky blue than the ones I saw bearing fruit on the roofs.
The big guy holding me on his lap rumbles, “Celnoe packs typically have three or four alphas, but not more; only one omega, now, and perhaps several betas.”
I twist and look at him. His black hair brushes his broad shoulders in an artfully messy way and his eyes are the bright blue of a forget-me-not. His skin is the darkest, most teal of the four. And his horns curl in a full circle.
I lick my lips. His eyes track the movement silently.
I ask, still feeling off-center, “What... um, job, do betas take in the pack?”
Ryson answers from my side, “Was this not included in your information packet?” He sounds annoyed about it. But I’m starting to think that’s his normal tone of voice.
“No. Honestly, it was pretty vague on the details of your species and planet.” My gaze is drawn out the windows again, the city seeming well-laid out and not too tightly packed like most human ones.
There are lots of blue-leaved trees and shrubs and I see many aliens that look like mine, all dressed in comfortable looking dresses or loose pants and tunics.
But then my eyes land upon a female with wings and I gasp.
All four guys jump.
“Why is she naked?” I ask, worry settling deep in my gut.
I see them exchange a glance before they all look to Wells.
He clears his throat, “That,” he nods towards the naked winged woman, “is a matched omega. Many packs keep their omegas nude, as a general rule.”
Ryson adds darkly, “Some... only for punishment.”
Oh fuck.
I shake my head and I feel Zallan's hand around my waist tighten minutely. But, much like the rest of my life, I lack the restraint to shut the fuck up.
I say, “No. That’s not gonna work for me.”
The grin Ryson throws me is wicked and I feel my nipples tighten inexplicably. “I’ll be the judge of that, little omega.”
THE REST OF THE RIDE I am mute. I think they sense that I’m annoyed or stunned or something and do not bother me.
I stare out the windows as we leave the city and enter a forest. Many trees are huge, with a reddish, rough bark and huge trunks.
I have to tilt my head to see the heart-shaped blue leaves above us.
Smaller plants edge close to the pink strip that the vehicle follows.
Twice our vehicle passes other, similar, vehicles that have “pulled over” to let us pass.