OmegaMine (17 page)

“You have to give me to them. It’s the only way,” Emory
interrupted, his eyes wild and glowing. “When will you tell the rest of the
packs why they’re here?”

Diskant felt Ava tremble beside him and he tightened his
hold and bowed over slightly, giving the illusion that she was sheltered under
his shoulder. “I should tell them tonight,” he responded without hesitation,
relieved when she settled beside him. “They have a right to know. If it had
been wolves that were skinned alive, we’d be out for blood.”

“We need to know more about the Shepherds’ enclave,” Trey
said, turning to Emory. “If their numbers are small the pack can challenge them
directly.”

“You’re asking the wrong person.” Emory laughed but there
was no humor in the gesture. If anything, the Alpha seemed on the brink of a
breakdown. “Mary didn’t tell me anything. She wasn’t even aware of the
importance of her surname.”

“I can tell you.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone turned to the
source of the interruption—the little bundle under his arm.

Ava.

She smiled at their curious stares and continued stroking
his skin, the motion of her thumb calm and soothing, as if she gleaned just how
much it affected him.

“You can tell us what?” Diskant asked, aware that the others
at the table wouldn’t dare address his mate to ask the question.

She turned her head, smiled at him and answered, “Everything.”

Chapter Eleven

“You’d best repent, lest you find yourself bedded amongst
the wolves.”

Mary tried not to wince as her newest captor stood over her
at his place at the pulpit, legs shoulder’s width apart, expression unreadable.
This time it was John Shepherd with a bible in one hand and a cross in the
other—one of eleven Shepherds who lived on the sacred family land in northern
Colorado that had been passed down through the generations.

It had been like this since the night she’d discovered the man
who brought excitement and joy to her life wasn’t a man at all but something
else. A beast, she’d been told, who was cursed with half the soul of an animal.
She’d have argued the fact if she hadn’t seen it for herself. The lupine
features that had distorted his jaw, lengthened his canines, and changed the
hue of the iris were impossible to discredit.

Foolishly, she’d fled, unable to see past the terrifying
shape of the beast to the man.

That was the tragedy of trusting illusion—you couldn’t
always perceive what you should. Even those who appeared normal could be cursed
with something far worse than a wolf beneath the skin.

Far, far worse…

“I don’t hear you, Mary.”

The warning was enough for her to start the prayer over,
mumbling into her clasped hands as she balanced herself on bruised knees until
she reached the portion of the passage that gave her pause.

“Behold, I send you forth as a sheep in the midst of wolves:
be ye therefore wise as serpents and harmless as doves. But beware of men: for
they will deliver you up to the councils, and they will scourge you in their
synagogues.”

She continued to recite the passage that was once foreign
and strange but was now memorized to perfection, allowing her mind to drift.

How had her life come to this? How could the man she knew as
a father have belonged to a group of people that manipulated and twisted the
passages of the bible to suit their purposes?

She shivered as she continued to speak, trying to remove the
morbid images that always surfaced from her mind.

The moment her uncle had learned of her romantic involvement
with Emory and had forced her to face the truth of what he was, he’d shown her
the extent of his depravity by driving her to the large building situated on
the far end of the property, near the woods and a long stretch of water that
nourished the cattle and livestock. The smells coming from it had been more
than enough to keep her interest at bay when she’d arrived five years before,
but as he drew nearer in the truck, with the windows down, she’d truly
understood the depths of the stench.

It was one of rot, decay and, worst of all—death.

She’d kept her hand across her nose and mouth as she exited
the truck and Elijah had instructed her to wait while the vans behind them
parked and the men inside climbed out. There had been eleven in all, each
familiar as they were family members who owned the adjacent farms and raised
livestock or grew crops. They attended church services every Sunday with their
families and seemed to be decent, god-fearing Christians.

Christians
, she thought bitterly. Now
that
was
a full-fledged blasphemy of epic proportions. Just how little she’d known about
the people who’d embraced her as one of their own.

The moment she’d entered the building, the stench had been
overwhelming, and she’d discovered why when she glimpsed inside the cages. Men,
women and a small child were huddled within, their bodies covered in wounds
that oozed blood and yellowish pus. All of them were filthy, hair matted with
sweat, dirt and dried blood. When she’d finally torn her eyes away from the
silver bars lined with tortured faces, she’d learned the horror didn’t stop
there.

In the center of the room had been a wooden table with
silver cuffs on each corner and a multitude of matching chains. The oak was
stained black in places, the surface smoother where bodies had writhed in
misery and unintentionally sanded the wood.

“They must repent of their sin and reject the beast before
they can cross into heaven with their soul intact,” Elijah had said as she
gawked at the atrocity in horror. “For this purpose, we attempt to expel the
demon within.”

“The demon?” she’d whispered, mortified.

“Lucifer’s beasts reside within each and every one of them.”

The cage closest to her had held the single child in the
group, who was no more than eight or nine years old. His face had been dirty
and the wounds along his arms and chest had been fresh, but his eyes had been
alert as he studied her silently. Pools of the most radiant topaz she’d ever
seen—pure, untarnished liquid gold—stared back at her, silently pleading for
help.

In that moment, she’d known she was no better than her
relatives if she turned a blind eye to something like this. As she’d walked
from the building with her disgusting and reprehensive “family,” she’d begun to
formulate a plan.

Just two years before, on her eighteenth birthday, she’d
been given her parents’ assets. It was more than enough for a fresh start
somewhere. More importantly, she could finally discover what waited for her
inside the safety deposit box in Florida—an odd location considering her mother
and father had never taken her there. Her parents’ attorney refused to give her
the key unless it was in person, and had specified that her mother and father
had instructed that she had to open it before the age of twenty-one and keep
the existence of it secret.

Considering her kin doubled as the Manson family, she wasn’t
sure if it was bound to be a good or bad surprise. Either way, it was better
than sticking around.

It had taken two weeks to work out her uncle’s schedule and
by that time she’d known when her aunt was going to the grocery store, how long
her cousin Jonah would be out in the field, and could count the minutes it
would take to cover a significant amount of distance. Timing was everything,
and as the number of people in cages had dwindled from seven to five, there had
been little to spare.

Stealing the keys to her uncle’s shop was the easy part;
standing before the cages afterward, eyes wide and hands shaking, wasn’t. She’d
wondered if the ravaged and violated men and women would kill her on principle.
Perhaps they did have a demon inside of them that would demand blood payment
for their suffering.

As it turned out, they hadn’t harmed her at all.

Instead they’d forced her into one of the cages that reeked
of feces and urine and locked her inside, deaf to her pleas to take her with
them or set her free. Only the child had turned as she begged for mercy,
showing fear for the first time. He’d reached for her hand and clasped her
fingers in his thin hands before he was swept into the arms of a woman who
carried him from sight as Mary struggled against the bars.

That was how her uncle found her—locked in a cage with the
keys tossed in the dirt, the polished set flashing brightly in the setting sun
just five feet away.

The beating she’d received after he pulled her from the cage
had been the most severe—the one in which Elijah introduced her to the cane.
“Spare the rod and spoil the child,” he repeated as he gave her a lash for each
shifter he’d lost, as well as an additional five for her betrayal. Ten lashes
total, the thick, winding scars of which now adorned the skin on her back.

It wasn’t difficult to feign fear or deference after that. A
solid slap to the face courtesy of her aunt or a leering taunt from her cousin
weren’t shit on the grander scale. The few friends she’d made at college were
told she was recovering from mono and wouldn’t return for the rest of the
semester when they called to speak to her. That meant no one would look for
her, and no one would miss her if she suddenly vanished without a trace.
Everything she did now was about survival. Surrounded by the lunacy as she was,
there was only one way to ensure it.

She had to pretend, build trust and show them she’d seen the
error of her ways. That meant staying quiet, keeping her nose clean and
feigning absolution. It wasn’t always easy but as the good book said, good
things come to those who wait.

“Again, Mary,” John said, going to his knees and starting a
new passage, another she knew now by heart. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall
not want; He makes me lie down in green pastures…”

Dutifully she chanted along, damning the god who’d placed
her in his predicament, taken her parents from her and shown her just how vile
and warped the world could be. As soon as she was given the opportunity she
planned to run as far and as fast away from the sick, demented fucks as she
could.

And there was only one thing she knew with utmost certainty.

She had no intention of ever looking back.

Chapter Twelve

Seated smack-dab in the center of wolf shifters and Ava had
never felt so powerful. She knew she should have been terrified or nervous
about the attention centered in her direction, but oddly enough she wasn’t.
Ever since she’d left the office she’d amassed a wealth of knowledge about
Diskant, his race and their connection.

His mate
.

A shiver traveled down her spine as she acknowledged the
fact, accepted it and comprehended the implications of such a thing. This
wasn’t just a quick romp in the sheets or a casual fling that would go away.
This was exactly as he’d told her it would be, a connection that would last the
span of their lifetimes. As scary as the notion was, it was equally exciting,
humbling and staggering. Since she could feel the complexities of his feelings,
she was able to experience the full magnitude of his commitment and
devotion—all-encompassing, frightening and unwavering in its intensity.

Never had a man felt as Diskant did for her, as if she was
as essential to his being as breathing. He would do whatever it took to secure
her happiness, even if it meant his own was sacrificed as a consequence.

In addition to that, as an Omega, Diskant was extremely
important to all shifters. In claiming her as his, she had gained equal status.
From the moment they’d emerged from the office, walking side by side, hand in
hand, she’d been able to perceive the thoughts and curiosity of those around
them. Everyone had wanted a glimpse of her, including the few females who
remained at the other side of the bar.

Various cadences and dialects had echoed inside her head,
both male and female. Diskant had mated, but unlike many in the pack feared he
might, it wasn’t to a different breed of shifter but a human. She had braced
for their anger but was shocked when she perceived their relief and ready
acceptance.

It could be worse
, thought one.

Thank fucking god
, thought another.

Filtering through the voices, she’d deftly slid the pieces
together. If Diskant mated a different breed of shifter his allegiance to the
wolves would be compromised. Now, his loyalty and dedication to the pack was
assured. They would protect her with their lives and, in turn, Diskant would
see that the pack continued to thrive…

Even if it means he’s mated to a weak, human female who
will give him half-breeds.

The stray thought had pissed her off and she’d lifted her
head, frustrated when strange faces greeted her and she was unable to locate
the source. When the combination of thoughts had become too disorienting and
difficult to decipher, she’d erected a temporary wall to block them out,
focusing instead on the reassuring vibes Diskant was somehow able to send. It
wasn’t until they’d taken a seat at the table that she slowly let the barrier
down.

Fascinated would be one way to describe how she felt as she
listened to the thoughts of the intimidating shifters surrounding her—terrified
would be another. With the exception of the green-eyed one seated in the
center, the shifters were totally unlike Diskant and didn’t have an ounce of
affection or softness within them. Instead she felt a lust for violence and
retribution.

The one seated closest to her—Emory—seemed the most
unstable. His mind was in chaos, a raspy, animalistic voice in her head that
could only be described as bestial and continued repeating the same words over
and over again.

Mary. Mate. Mine
.

She studied him as the man tried to overtake the animal,
observing quietly as her gift allowed her to hear the dual thoughts that
occurred simultaneously.