Omega Mine
Chapter 14

He couldn’t get the scent of Jospehine out of his lungs. It permeated the very air around him, enveloping him in a sensual embrace that had his cock thickening even further in his jeans, his erection stabbing at the zipper to the point of pain. Even his balls ached, and the base of his cock seemed to swell, feeling enlarged. It was an odd sensation, though it felt strangely natural. Adjusting himself, he nodded to Jameson, one of the guards waiting outside his cell.

“Took you long enough,” another guard snapped, holding up a hand as if he intended to shove Seven forward. He thought better of it when Seven pinned him with a hard glare, lips curling back into a silent snarl. Gulping, the guard quickly locked the door, keeping a healthy distance as Seven followed Jameson down the hall.

He could hear the male behind him tinkering with his weapon, clutching it closer to him as if afraid Seven would turn around and charge right at him. He ignored it, not wanting to provoke anyone when he had much more important matters to handle.

Each step away from Josephine was agonizing, as if the deepest part of his soul refused to leave her side. And now he knew why he despised being parted from her. Why he’d felt drawn to her since she’d ended up in his cell. They were mates.

Mates…

The thought should have been foreign to him like most things from his past were. But instead, faint memories began to trickle in. A man he couldn’t see clearly, only a vague outline cloaked in shadows, telling him that mates were sacred. To be cherished and worshiped above all else. They were to be protected and loved, and Seven had just left his own mate alone and hurting in a prison cell while he was led to murder one of his own kind.

I have to fight, he reminded himself, struggling to ignore the pull he felt for her as he stalked down the hall. I’ll end this soon and return.

He would finish his match in record time, go back to his cell, see to her needs, and fuck her until she was too exhausted to do anything other than sleep. And then he would replace a way to get them out of this prison.

Whereas he’d grown used to his bleak lifestyle, his dark cell was no place for her. She deserved more than the shell of his life, and the dangers that came with it. A woman like her wouldn’t survive down here, especially given how she’d already been mistreated.

A growl poured from his throat, fury renewing as he thought of that pissant, Ortega, and what he had done to her.

He’d been ready to slaughter the human filth when he’d first seen her injuries, his body vibrating with rage. But now, knowing what she was to him, the counterpart to his soul, Seven was anxious to ensure no further harm ever came to her, no matter what it took. He wanted to rip Ortega apart, piece by piece, and relish in his demise. He might even be persuaded to bathe in his blood if his rage was high enough.

The guards around him lessened, backing off until it was just Jameson and him in the long hall that led into the arena.

Jameson turned, blocking Seven from moving closer to the guards posted at the end of the hall. “How is Josie?” he asked.

“Keep her name out of your mouth,” Seven snapped, in no mood to entertain another male when it came to her. He inhaled deeply, eyes narrowing on Jameson a moment later. “Why is your scent odd?”

He’d never noticed before, usually he was too enraged by everything around him to focus on one scent in particular. But now that Josephine had explained scent blockers to him and what to look for, he couldn’t help but notice the difference in his guard, and how light his scent was compared to the others. Why would Jameson need to block his scent? Unless…

Jameson’s eyes widened in shock before he quickly relaxed, brow furrowing in confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean–”

Seven grabbed him by the neck, his nails digging into the guard’s flesh. Pulling him in roughly, Seven growled in his face. “I know what you are. Omega,” he guessed, satisfaction running through him when Jameson visibly paled. Hadn’t Josephine said Omegas were rare? What were the odds that two were within these very walls?

“She told you?” Jameson sputtered in answer, his voice barely more than a whisper. Seven didn’t respond, letting him draw his own conclusions, although he was surprised to discover that Josephine had known about Jameson. How long had she been aware that another Omega was here? Jameson’s eyes shifted to the side, looking for any witnesses before he continued. “Has her heat begun, then?”

He didn’t answer, but his silence was telling before Jameson sighed, nodding once. He swallowed thickly, reaching up and tapping the back of Seven’s hand in a silent request to be released. Reluctantly, he let go of his prey, his eyes unblinking as he watched the male.

“I’ll replace time to visit you tomorrow to talk.” Jameson lowered his voice. “She can’t stay here in her condition. If she’s discovered, she’ll be executed after days of being tortured.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” he hissed. Josephine needed to be away from this place for her own good, but where would they go if they managed to escape? He had no idea about the world outside of these walls, at least nothing that he could really remember. And typically guards swarmed every exit, automatic weapons at the ready.

Seven could likely withstand a dozen bullet holes, maybe more, before he passed out from blood loss, but if he became incapacitated, then his mate would be left alone to deal with the fall out. Even worse, what if she was gravely wounded during the escape attempt? She’d told him that her body should heal rapidly now that she was going into a mating heat, but that didn’t ease his newfound worry.

He eyed the guard, a new thought forming. If Jameson was someone Josephine was allied with, perhaps escaping would be much easier than expected. He looked around again, noting the lack of guards. Had Jameson been the one to send them away, leaving just them to speak candidly?

What else could he do in his position?

Almost as if he read Seven’s mind, Jameson said, “I might know of a way to set you free, but it will be dangerous. I’ll need a few days to orchestrate it, but it’s doable. We can discuss that all tomorrow after you’ve tended to her.”

Seven cocked his head to the side, focusing on Jameson’s heartbeat in an attempt to see whether the other male was deceiving him or being honest. Aside from the quick rhythm, likely from Seven’s handling, his heartbeat remained at an even pace.

Pivoting slightly, Jameson indicated for Seven to walk ahead of him, so he did. His steps were purposeful and agitated as he moved through the hallway, ears twitching when they neared the exit that would take him into the arena. Cheers could be heard off in the distance, even over the guards at the end of the hall waiting for him behind a locked gate.

When they neared the gate, Jameson held out his ID badge, displaying his photo and a series of numbers beneath it.

The guard didn’t even acknowledge it, instead facing Seven. “I’ve got a lot of money riding on you,” he commented with a sly smile. “Try to make it last a few minutes so I hit big.”

Seven slammed his palms onto the metal cage door and the guard flinched, his smile dying and his mouth dropping open in fear. “Fuck!”

“Open the gate,” Jameson said, his voice filled with boredom. “We haven’t got all night, and Ortega is gonna be pissed if there is a delay with his entertainment.”

Seven perked up. “He’s attending?” Already he could feel the male’s bones snapping in his hands, and the blood coating his fingers as he dug his claws into that little fuck’s jugular. If only he could get close enough to the sorry son of a bitch.

“He’s always attending from his office above the arena.” Jameson shrugged indifferently, though his eyes gleamed with some unnamed emotion. “He likes to watch.”

The other guard snorted, unlocking the gate. “More like he enjoys lording over all of us, the twisted bastard.” He stepped aside, allowing the two of them to pass. “Try not to die out there.”

Glaring, Seven prowled forward, more than ready to finish this fight and go back to his cell. He wouldn’t even bask in his victory as he usually did, more than eager to return to Josephine and her tantalizing scent. Just then, the image of her face twisting in pain filled his mind, along with her warning that a mating heat was horrible to experience. Only he was capable of ending her agony.

I need to get back to her.

The thought of leaving her like that, hurt and aching when she needed him the most… He didn’t like it. Not at all.

How was it possible that so soon after meeting her he’d become obsessed? Mate, a dark voice inside his head whispered gutturally. Was it that simple? That her presence coupled with her intoxicating scent could be such an addiction?

He didn’t know, but he was unfamiliar with ever craving anything the way he craved her.

He barely paid attention as Jameson unlocked the door ahead, pulling it open. Light filtered into the hall from the arena, bright enough that he squinted in irritation, his thoughts fleeing momentarily from Josephine.

Soon enough, he was being led into the caged arena, the thick metal door slamming closed behind him. The crowd went wild, but his focus became centered on the male already awaiting him inside the ring.

Seven had never thought of his opponent as anything other than a threat, and despite now knowing that this was either a Beta or an Alpha in front of him, it changed nothing. It was still kill or be killed.

Would Josephine be conflicted in knowing how easily he was capable of killing their own kind? Or in how much he enjoyed killing? He had no regrets, no guilt regarding his ruthless actions. He’d hardly ever spoken to the other prisoners he’d been surrounded by for a majority of his life, so there was no connection there, no longing for kinship. There had never been a point in getting to know anyone, and he preferred isolation.

Or, he used to.

There was a whistling overhead, signaling the match to begin and pulling Seven from his thoughts.

His opponent lunged forward, swiping wildly at Seven’s bare chest. He dodged the attack easily, and his enemy stumbled, sucking in a deep breath as he righted himself. He looked even thinner than Seven, with protruding ribs and collarbones that jutted out.

Killing him would be extremely easy, but there wasn’t much enjoyment in wiping out someone so weak. In fact, Seven was startled to feel a moment of empathy for his opponent, wondering where the hell that emotion had come from.

The male inhaled again, his eyes rolling back into head as he shuddered.

“You smell like a bitch in heat,” the male groaned, opening his eyes. They glowed a deep shade of red, similar to his own color as he stalked forward. “Give her to me!” he bellowed, lunging again.

And just like that, whatever fleeting sympathy he’d given the male evaporated in an instant, the need to protect Josephine outweighing everything else. He refused to let him utter another word about her, lest he give away her identity to someone capable of listening in.

Rage took over and Seven launched forward, meeting his opponent head-on. Their bodies slammed together, claws slicing at the other’s flesh in order to deal the most damage. He didn’t even let his enemy get further than a few minor puncture wounds on his chest, plunging his claws into the male’s throat. He shredded muscles and tendons, not stopping until he ripped through bone.

His mind clouded with the familiar haze of fury, drowning out every other thought but that of bloodshed. He wanted to spill more of it, to roar his dominance to the world so that no one else would even think about fighting him for Josephine. She’s mine!

His opponent gave one pathetic sound before he died, his body collapsing at Seven’s feet. He kept the head firmly in his grasp, letting out a roar so primal and terrifying that it silenced the crowd. He looked up, eyes locking on the glass office high above the arena where Ortega lurked within. He might have killed a momentary threat to his mate, but the true threat was just out of reach, sitting smug in his office with her blood on his hands.

Seven wanted him to pay. To look into Ortega’s eyes as he took one final breath, choking on his own blood. Rage burned in his gut, taking over completely until nothing remained but the bitter taste of vengeance.

Without another thought, he threw the head with all of his might, chest heaving as he watched it fly through the air at an alarming speed. It hit its mark, landing with a wet splat on the glass before dropping down onto the crowd.

People screamed in panic and disgust as pieces of brain and blood fell onto them, but Seven didn’t care. Not then as he watched the glass crack from the force of his assault.

“Seven!” Jameson yelled. “What have you done?”

He pivoted toward the guard, baring his teeth and snarling.

“Enough!” Jameson ripped open the cage door. “With me. Now!” There was something in the tone of his voice that drew Seven out of his stupor, shaking his head as if to clear away the negative emotions that had been running through it. He cast one last look back at the glass, feeling less satisfied and more uneasy with what he’d just done. An aggressive act like that would all but guarantee him an audience with the fucker.

Seven followed after Jameson as he spun on his heel, stomping back into the hall and past the males at the locked door, requesting entry once more to the corridor that would take him back to the cells and to Josephine.

It wasn’t until they were alone in the hall that Jameson sighed, running a hand down his face. “What you’ve done will piss off Ortega. The public disrespect won’t go unpunished, and who do you think will suffer because of your goddamn tantrum? You?” He shook his head. “You generate too much income.”

He stiffened, mouth drying as worry clawed at his gut. “I didn’t think–”

“Of course you didn’t,” Jameson snapped. “You were all animal back there, relying on instinct and nothing more. Just the smell of blood turned you back into the same feral beast you’ve been for years, and now you’ve endangered us all.”

That hit him harder than any blow could have, and regret made him nauseous. The guard was right. His rage had come right back as soon as he’d spent more than a few minutes away from Josephine, and now look what he’d done.

“What do I do?” he asked hotly, unused to feeling this helpless.

“Pray that I can get you the fuck out of here before the commander does something drastic.” He shook his head again. “If he requests to see either of you, I can delay the order to try and buy time, but there are no guarantees down here.”

“I understand.”

And he did. If they came to take Josephine away before they could replace a way to escape, then he’d fight for her freedom, even if it killed him.