Feral Omega: A Dark Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance (Ghost Alpha Unit Book 1)

The blade glints in the low light as I turn it over and over in my hands, the repetitive motion as natural as breathing. I’ve been sitting here for hours, watching the omega sleep. Watching her chest rise and fall with each breath, the pulse at her throat, so delicate, so vulnerable. It would be so easy to end her life, to paint the sheets with her blood.

But I don’t. I can’t.

I’ve killed countless times before, felt the thrill of the hunt, the rush of power as the life drains from their eyes. It’s always been men who remind me of my father—the same cruel eyes, the same sneering mouth.

I’d stalk them for days, learning their routines, their weaknesses. And then, when the moment was right, I’d strike. Quick, efficient, merciless.

This…this is different.

I’ve never been so consumed by someone I didn’t want to kill. It’s like an itch under my skin, a constant thrumming in my veins. I can’t stop thinking about her, can’t stop watching her. The others feel it too, I know. Wraith and Whiskey, they couldn’t stay away, breaking into the infirmary just to be near her. And Plague, ever the cold, logical one, he’s given up trying to keep us out.

We’re all under her spell, and none of us understand why.

My obsessions in the past, they were like flickering candles compared to this raging inferno. Those men, they were just placeholders, stand-ins for the one I truly wanted to destroy. But I’ve killed my father a hundred times over in my mind, in the faces of my victims. And still, the hunger remains.

But this hunger…it’s different. It’s not the desire to destroy, but to possess. To claim. To consume.

I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.

My grip tightens on the knife, the blade biting into my palm. The pain is a welcome distraction, a momentary clarity in the haze of my thoughts. I focus on the sting, on the warm trickle of blood, letting it ground me in the present.

I force myself to look away from her, to stare at the cold, sterile walls of the infirmary. But even then, I can feel her presence, like a physical weight pressing against my skin. It’s suffocating, maddening.

I’m not used to feeling so out of control. I’m the one who brings chaos, who revels in the screams and the blood. But now, I’m the one who’s unraveling, coming apart at the seams.

And it’s all because of her.

A soft sigh escapes her lips, and my attention snaps back to her face. Her brow furrows slightly, a small frown tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Is she dreaming? Remembering the horrors she’s endured?

A sudden, fierce protectiveness surges through me, surprising in its intensity. I want to soothe away her fears, to shield her from any further harm. It’s a foreign feeling, this desire to comfort, to care.

I don’t know how to be gentle. I don’t know how to be kind.

But for her…for her, I want to try.

The realization is terrifying, a weakness I can’t afford. And yet, I can’t bring myself to leave, to tear myself away from her side.

So I stay, a silent sentinel in the darkness, my knife a cold comfort in my hand. And I watch, and I wait, and I hunger.

For her.

The door hisses open and Plague’s scent wafts into the room, sterile and sharp, like the chemicals he works with. I don’t look up, my gaze still fixed on her sleeping form.

‘Thought you were on a mission,’ Plague mutters, his voice muffled by the mask.

A smirk tugs at my lips. ‘I was. No survivors. Knocked off early.’

Plague moves closer, his steps measured and precise. I can feel his disapproval radiating off him in waves. ‘Playing with your knife in my clinic? You know better, Valek.’

He reaches for the blade, but I’m faster. I pull it out of his grasp, the metal singing as it slices through the air. ‘Ah ah, Doc. You wanna lose that hand?’

Plague stills, his gold-tinted lenses boring into me. For a moment, we’re locked in a silent battle of wills, the tension thick enough to cut with my knife. But eventually, he relents, pulling his hand back with a frustrated sigh.

I sheathe the knife, the click of the blade against the handle echoing in the quiet room. ‘How much longer is she going to be out?’

Plague cocks his head, studying me. ‘Why? That desperate for your turn?’

Irritation flares hot in my gut. He thinks I’m just here to claim her, to slake my lust like some rutting animal. But it’s more than that. ‘Wasn’t thinking about sex,’ I grit out, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.

Something in my tone must give him pause, because his posture shifts, the mocking edge fading from his voice. ‘Good, because I haven’t even given her a full exam, but she won’t be in any shape for that for a while yet. Her condition is improving,’ he says, all business now. ‘Should be able to lift the sedation soon. I’m going to discuss it with Thane when he returns.’

Thane. The name sends a surge of something dark and possessive through my veins. He’s our leader. But the thought of him near her, touching her… it makes my vision bleed red.

I push the feeling down, lock it away in the recesses of my mind. I can’t afford to challenge Thane, not over this. Not yet.

Plague is still watching me, his gaze heavy, assessing. He sees too much, knows too much. Out of all of us, he’s the one who comes closest to understanding the twisted workings of my mind. And that makes him dangerous.

‘You’re playing a dangerous game, Valek,’ he says softly, a warning and a promise all in one.

I bare my teeth in a grin, sharp and feral. ‘Danger’s what I live for, Doc. You know that.’

He shakes his head, a small, humorless laugh escaping him. ‘One of these days, that hunger of yours is going to get you killed.’

‘We all have to die sometime,’ I shrug, my gaze drifting back to her. ‘At least I’ll go out on my own terms.’

Plague follows my line of sight, his focus settling on the omega. ‘You’ll go out on mine if you touch her before it’s time,’ he says, his voice turning to stone, dry and brittle. It’s the kind of danger I knew he possessed from the moment I laid eyes on him. The kind of demonic darkness one only recognizes when there’s a demon lurking inside him, too.

‘That what you think of me?’ I challenge. ‘That I’m a rapist?’

‘You’re a killer,’ he says flatly. ‘It’s not that much of a leap.’

‘We’re all killers,’ I remind him, standing until we’re toe to toe. We’ve been on the same team for years, but I’ve probably exchanged more words with him over the last five minutes than I have in all that time.

‘You’re different,’ he says in a matter of fact tone.

‘Oh, yeah?’ I sneer behind the hood, staking a step closer. He stays where he is, meeting the challenge head on. Not escalating, not backing down. Like he thinks he’s better.

He always thinks he’s better than the rest of us. It’s the kind of thing that makes me wanna put a blade through his frontal lobe. Good old fashioned lobotomy. Bet he’d like that. Maybe he wouldn’t be so smug then.

‘You get off on it,’ Plague says, his voice low and even, almost clinical in its detachment. ‘The killing. The blood. It’s like a drug to you.’

I tilt my head, considering his words. He’s not wrong. The rush of adrenaline, the power, the control… it’s intoxicating. But it’s not the whole truth. ‘And what about you, Doc?’ I ask, my voice a mocking purr. ‘You get off on playing god? On holding life and death in your hands?’

A growl escapes him, faint and muffled almost immediately, but it’s a tell that I’ve gotten under his skin. ‘I save lives,’ he grits out, each word precise and measured. ‘You take them.’

‘Tomato, to-mah-to,’ I shrug, a smirk playing at my lips. ‘We all have our vices.’

Plague’s focus flicks back to the omega, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head. He’s trying to figure me out, trying to understand why she’s gotten under my skin. But how can I explain it to him when I don’t even understand it myself?

‘Get out,’ he finally says, backing up a step.

‘And what if I don’t?’ I challenge. I don’t respond well to being told what to do. Pretty sure my first social worker called it Oppositional Defiant Disorder or some shit.

I’ve always preferred psychopath. It gets to the point.

I don’t need to see his eyes to know the face he’s making behind that mask. Takes a lot to ruffle Bird Boy’s feathers, and it’s been long enough I’m surprised I haven’t earned the honor yet, but it’s a fitting occasion.

There’s plenty of pent up energy coursing beneath my skin. Not just the kind she was supposedly sent here to channel, either.

Funnily enough, I wasn’t even jonesing for an omega’s hole before. It’s the kind of thing I’ve always been able to take or leave. I have the same animal impulses as any alpha, sure, but the blood… it’s always sang so loud and sweet it’s easy to tune out everything else.

Until her.

And now, I crave blood in a different way. All I can think about is finding whoever put those marks on her and making them pay.

Hell, a part of me wants to tear open her scars and redraw them, just to remove anyone else’s mark from her body and replace it with mine.

Plague’s hand twitches at his side, fingers curling into a fist. I can see the tension coiling in his muscles, the barely restrained violence simmering just beneath the surface. He wants to lash out, to put me in my place. And a part of me wants him to try, craves the rush of a fight, the taste of blood on my tongue.

But he holds himself back, ever the controlled one. ‘I won’t ask again,’ he says, his voice low and dangerous. ‘Leave. Now.’

I open my mouth to retort, to push him just that little bit further, but the sound of the door hissing open cuts me off. Thane’s scent fills the room, all alpha musk and raw power. It’s a scent that demands obedience, submission.

But I’ve never been good at either.

I turn to face him, my posture loose and casual, even as every muscle in my body tenses, ready for a fight. ‘Boss,’ I drawl, a mocking salute. ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’

Thane’s gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the scene—Plague’s rigid stance, my own insolent smirk, the omega lying still and vulnerable between us. His eyes narrow, a flicker of something dark and possessive flashing across his face before it’s gone, masked behind a veneer of cool authority.

‘We need to talk,’ he says, his voice brooking no argument. ‘All of us. Now.’

Plague straightens, his attention snapping to Thane. ‘About the omega?’ he asks, a hint of wariness creeping into his tone.

Thane nods, a single, sharp jerk of his chin. ‘Among other things. Gather the others and meet in the briefing room in five.’

It’s not a request, but a command. And despite the defiance thrumming through my veins, the urge to push back against any and all authority, I find myself nodding, falling in line if only because I’m curious.

I spare one last glance at the omega as I leave, drinking in the sight of her. She looks so small, so fragile, dwarfed by the sterile white of the infirmary bed. But there’s a strength to her, too. A resilience that shines through even in her unconscious state.

She’s survived horrors that would break most people, endured pain and suffering that I can only imagine. And yet, she’s still here. Still fighting.

It’s that strength, that unbreakable spirit, that draws me to her like a moth to a flame. I want to possess it, to claim it as my own. To break her down and build her back up again, mold her into something new. Something mine.

But I know I can’t. Not yet.

First, we have to deal with the fallout of her arrival. The ripples she’s already sending through our carefully controlled world.

I can feel it in the air, the tension, the anticipation. Something’s coming, something big. And the omega is at the center of it all.

As I follow Thane and Plague out of the infirmary, I can’t help but wonder what the future holds. For her, for us, for everything.

But one thing I know for sure.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Things are about to get very, very interesting.