Omega Academy Read online

  The three men stride inside, their large bodies too much for the small space. I’m mid-hyperventilation when the door closes, the shipping container begins to vibrate, and then lifts off. It shoots into the dark sky as I scream in terror.

  4

  Kyte

  “She definitely has some lungs on her.” I kneel down in front of the Omega, her breathing even now that she’s passed out.

  Jeren rubs his ears. “So loud. I think I’m bleeding.”

  Inspecting her for damage, I find she has some bruising along her face and throat. I grit my teeth and wish I would’ve killed the male who was attacking her. Thankfully, I can help. My regeneration powers are weak, but I use them on her anyway. She reacts quickly, her biological makeup lending itself perfectly to my ability.

  “Why are you touching her face?” Jeren asks, a hint of irritation in his tone.

  “He’s healing her, obviously.” Ceredes sits across from her, all of us crowding the Omega. This ship is tiny, a transport meant for three at most—and all Omegas, not Alpha warriors.

  “Why was she so unprepared?” Once her cells are repaired, I run my finger down her cheek to try and wipe off some of the muck her body heat has baked on. “It’s as if she didn’t receive the summons.”

  “Maybe they don’t read on Earth?” Jeren unzips her pack and begins pulling out pieces of paper. “Scratch that. She can read and write—” He pauses when he flips open a notebook. “And draw.” He turns the page to us, a big-eyed female grinning as she rides some sort of fanciful jet bike.

  I join him and pull out a crude communication device from one of the bag’s pockets. “Look.” It requires a password to open, or a fingerprint. How quaint. I take the Omega’s hand, a slight tingle traveling up my arm from the contact, and wipe her thumb off, then press it to the pad. Nothing. I wipe her thumb again. The attempt is rejected. I lick my finger, use that to wipe her thumb, then dry it completely on my shirt. This time, the finicky device unlocks. I examine its contents but stop when I come to a message from the fleet. “She received the summons. It’s here in two places, and it’s in her language.”

  “So she just ignored it.” Ceredes snorts. “Is this typical of Omegas? The way she acts?”

  “How would I know?” I return her device to her pack. “The only Omega who’s ever spoken to me is Ilwen, and I came away with a distinctly negative impression afterwards. Though I think some of them are nice?”

  “So many of them are traumatized by idiot Alphas before they reach the safety of the Omega Academy. It’s no wonder they shy away from us. And there are so few of them.” Jeren runs his fingertip along the part in her hair, perhaps the only spot on her not caked with dirt. “I’ve never considered I’d actually want one for myself.”

  A growl erupts in the cabin. It’s no surprise to find it comes from Ceredes. But when I realize I’m growling right along with him, I take a step back—and bump into the lip of the hangar door. “Shit.” I rub the sore spot on the back of my head. Why am I reacting to this Omega? She’s not even a female of my people—no horns on her forehead, no spines down her back. No golden hue lighting her skin. Even so, I can’t take my eyes from her.

  “Did you two just growl at me?” Jeren grins. “Jealous?”

  “Stop touching her.” Ceredes stands, the air growing thick with malice. “She’s not yours to touch.”

  “Is she yours?” he challenges.

  Ceredes grits his teeth, his fists flexing. “No.”

  “Then back off,” Jeren says, but he keeps his hands to himself.

  Good, because if he touched her again, I have the oddest inkling that I might snap.

  Jeren turns. “You, too?”

  I shrug, mostly to loosen the tension in my shoulders. “I don’t care. Let’s just get back to Centari.”

  Ceredes stares at her with a thoughtful expression as the transport picks up speed, fleeing this galaxy with haste. “You know, the fleet doesn’t come out this far.”

  “So?” Jeren leans against the useless controls at the front of the pod, though he keeps the Omega in his peripheral vision.

  “So, why would she get the call for the Omega Academy? She clearly didn’t heed it. I thought the fleet only collected Alphas and Omegas from galaxies under their protection.”

  “Protection.” Jeren snorts, his black eyebrows lowering. “You need to stop eating up every lie they serve us at the academy.”

  “Don’t start this again.” I step forward—not to be closer to the Omega. Not at all. “We’re all members of the fleet now. You included, Jeren. The academy doesn’t train us just for fun. We’re expected to serve.”

  “And if I don’t want to?” Jeren’s eyes return to the Omega. “If I’d rather bed down with an Omega in some remote corner of the galaxy where the fleet will never find us?”

  “They’ll hunt you down,” Ceredes says.

  He cuts his gaze to Ceredes. “You mean you will?”

  “I will.” Ceredes thrusts his shoulders back. “And drag you back for trial and execution.”

  Jeren pulls one of his blades. “I’d like to see you try, Commander.”

  “Guys, can we just—”

  A sharp scream cuts through whatever I was about to say. The Omega jolts, her body straining against the safety straps as another wild peal of terror rips from her.

  “Whoa.” Ceredes holds his hands up, palms toward her. “Calm down.”

  She screams again, her struggle failing to loosen the restraints, but her cries destroy what little resolve I have not to touch her. With a quick motion, I use a pulse of energy to slice through the belts that keep her in place. Suddenly free, she jolts forward.

  Ceredes catches her and sets her back in her seat. “Please stop.”

  I edge around to stand beside Jeren, all three of us facing the Omega. Her eyes widen as she looks up at us. Maybe this was a bad idea. Her gut-wrenching scream confirms that thought.

  “We aren’t going to hurt you.” Ceredes keeps his voice level, but loud enough to override her.

  She takes a breath, then another. No screaming. We’re making progress. Despite the fact she’s shrinking away from me, a fleeting thought dashes through my mind that I should pull her into my arms, comfort her. Odd.

  “Where am I?” Her chin shakes, tears welling in her eyes and running down her muddy face.

  “On a transport to the Omega Academy.” Ceredes leans back in his seat and shoots us a surreptitious look to back off.

  I won’t. Moving away from her seems somehow impossible. Likely because the transporter is cramped. Not because I want to be near her.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She leans over a little and peers out the front of the shuttle, the dark galaxy moving past us, planets and stars flitting through the view as we reach speeds far beyond any she can comprehend. “Take me back.”

  “There’s no going back.” I say it matter-of-factly, but when her face crumples and her eyes water, I wish I could suck the words back in.

  She raises a shaking hand to her face and swipes some of the mud away along with her tears. “Just turn this thing around. Please.”

  “We aren’t flying it.” Ceredes works to keep his voice calm. “The academy is in control of it. So, we couldn’t turn around even if we wanted to. I’m sorry.”

  “Let me go.”

  “Into space?” Jeren points to the window that gives a view of her receding galaxy.

  “No, not into space!” She shakes her head and closes her eyes. “Take me back.”

  “We can’t. The academy—”

  “Academy?” She sniffles.

  “The Gretar Fleet has academies for Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. It chooses the best candidates from the nearby galaxies, though it usually takes every Omega it can find.” Ceredes glances out the front window. “This galaxy is farther out than usual, but you’ve been chosen.”

  “What fleet? Aliens? You’re all aliens.” Her voice rises with panic again. “And I’m not s
upposed to be here. You made a mistake. Just take me back.”

  “Your galaxy is distant, yes.” Ceredes, the stark Bellatian commander, sounds almost … soothing. “But the fleet doesn’t make mistakes.”

  She pushes her backpack from her shoulders and pulls it to her lap, using it as something of a shield against the three of us. Of course, we could kill her within seconds if we wanted to. Ceredes with his sword, Jeren with his blades, or me with my energy. But just the thought of harming her makes me shift uncomfortably from one foot to the next.

  “It’s a mistake.” She rocks gently. “I should be home now. Mom will worry. I was going to fly a mission, destroy an enemy base. Maybe they’ll wait for me. Because this is all a dream or a mistake or …” Her chin trembles.

  “Not a mistake or a dream, Omega. You’ve been chosen.” Ceredes’s tone has a finality to it. But he’s right, of course. Once the fleet has you, it isn’t letting go.

  “Chosen for what?” She clutches her pack like it’s her life. “Why me?”

  “We don’t know.” Jeren shrugs. “But you’re an Omega, so—”

  “What is that? Why do you keep calling me that?”

  “You don’t know?” I long to wipe the mud from her face. My hands stray to the hem of my shirt. I could take it off and wipe her clean … and also mark her with my scent that way. No. I blink the odd thoughts away and force my hands to my sides. “There are Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. Alphas are gifted with certain traits. They’re skilled as warriors and leaders, though there are limitless variations among them. The three of us are Alphas. Betas are—”

  “Normals,” Jeren scoffs.

  “Right. Normal, but equal, and some have valuable skills. And then there are Omegas like you.”

  “I’m not that.” She blinks hard. “So, what is that?”

  “Omegas are rare. Like Alphas, they have special abilities.” I hesitate. How can I put the rest of it without freaking her out even more?

  Her spine straightens the slightest bit. “If I’m some sort of special ability person, then why am I not an Alpha like you?”

  Jeren smirks.

  Ceredes clears his throat.

  I choose my words carefully. “Omegas are particularly suited to be, ah, joined with an Alpha.”

  Jeren snorts.

  Ceredes looks away.

  I try to smile in a non-threatening way.

  She seems to go pale beneath the mud. “What does that mean?”

  “It means, little human, that you will have an Alpha mate. One made for you. To protect and provide for you. To give you everything you need.” Jeren doesn’t lick his lips, but he may as well have.

  Her eyes widen. “Wh-what?”

  “You’re scaring her,” Ceredes growls.

  “She asked.” Jeren shrugs.

  I hurry to explain and cover over Jeren’s bluntness. “But the academy is meant to prepare you for your life as an Omega. As you are a rarity, the Gretar Fleet will keep you safe and provide for you until you are finished with your training.”

  “And then what?” She swallows hard.

  “Then you will take a position with the fleet—either on a ship or on one of the many planets within their control. And you will be expected to choose an Alpha mate.” I mumble the last part.

  “What?” She doesn’t let it go.

  “You’ll either choose an Alpha mate or be assigned one.” Jeren doesn’t let up. “And that’s when the real fun begins.”

  The breath goes out of her as if someone physically hit her.

  “Jeren!” Ceredes barks and gives him a death glare.

  “What?” He shrugs. “It’s the truth.”

  I want to grab him by the throat and slam him onto the console.

  Her breathing becomes too fast, ragged and wheezing.

  “Breathe.” I drop to one knee. “You’re safe.”

  Ceredes has been leaning closer and closer to her this entire time, though I doubt he realizes it.

  “Don’t come near me.” She shivers, her nails digging into her pack.

  The urge to pull her into my arms rises inside me like a mist cyclone on the ghost planet, but I tamp it down. “You are safe, human. I promise.”

  “No one is going to hurt you,” Jeren grudgingly offers. “I’m … sorry.” The word is rusty in his throat, but he says it nonetheless. Ceredes and I share a surprised glance before re-focusing on the Omega.

  “I just want to go home. Home. I’ll go home. This isn’t real.” Her breathing is ragged but steady. “If it is somehow real, it’s definitely a mistake.” She nods to herself. “This academy thing messed up, and when I get there, they’ll send me back. Either that, or I’m asleep. Or maybe Van killed me, and this is the weirdest afterlife possible. I mean, sleep or death seem pretty probable.” She points at Jeren. “Your tattoos move—that’s clearly a dreamlike sort of thing. And, on top of that, you’re mean, so that’s more of a nightmare, I guess.” Pointing at me, she continues, “You have horns, and gold skin around your ears and streaking down the sides of your neck, and sort of on your nose? You’re like from Cirque du Soleil or something. A dream sort of thing. And this guy—” She points at Ceredes and cocks her head to the side a little. “He seems normal, I guess. Except he’s huge and thinks he’s a super soldier. Besides, a normal handsome guy is probably just part of the dream trying to convince me it’s real.” She pinches her arm, then winces. “Crap. Not asleep.”

  Why did she say Ceredes was handsome? I’m handsome. “What’s your name?” I blurt.

  “Lana.” She holds her finger up like she just discovered wormhole travel. “Hang on. Ah ha! If you’re aliens, how do you speak English?”

  Jeren snorts. “Did you just call us aliens?”

  Lana. I turn her name over on my tongue. It’s lovely, fluid, unlike any name I’ve encountered. Exotic and alien, as she said.

  “We aren’t speaking English. This is the common tongue of the fleet. Though we can speak any language the Gretar Fleet has encountered, including yours.” Ceredes taps his forehead. “All of them are implanted here.”

  “Implanted?” She shrinks back. “Is that what happened when my brain zapped a minute ago. Did you put languages in my head?” Her face pales. “Are you going to … probe me?”

  “Huh?” Jeren’s brows draw together.

  I get a distinct mental image of what “probing” her might be like and have to take a step back, and, once again, knock my head on the side of the shuttle. The pain dulls as I stare at her mucky hair and hunched shoulders. She is nothing like the high Calarian females that my family prizes—no tall horns, no spines, no gold-dusted skin—but none of them have ever made my two hearts stutter or sent heat shooting through me like a Larenoan spear. Not like this female.

  “We aren’t going to … probe you.” Ceredes swallows hard. Was he having the same thoughts as me? Jealousy roars to life inside me, careening through my golden blood.

  “I just want to go back—” She doubles over, her pack falling to the floor as she clutches her stomach.

  “What is it?” I rush forward, all three of us advancing on her.

  “Lana?” Ceredes says her name. It sounds like a musical note.

  I have a taste of it, too. “Lana, what’s wrong?”

  I open a thin connection between us, feeling for her. Pain pulses from her in low beats. I can sense each jarring, twisting burst. But there’s more to it than a simple ache. Oh, no. Oh, Pillars, no.

  “Well?” Ceredes looks up at me, his blue eyes wide. “What’s going on with her?”

  I fall back just as Jeren glances down at his pants. “She’s—”

  “Not on suppressants.” Ceredes rises with a gasp and plasters himself against the control panel.

  Jeren jumps the first row of seats and stands next to Ceredes—all three of us as far away from her as we can get. Sweat beads along my brow, and my pride presses against my pants as it aches. Ceredes and Jeren are just as bad.

  “How much longer u
ntil Centari?” Ceredes grits the words out as Lana lets out a low moan of pain.

  My knot tightens at the sound, and I swallow hard. The need to go to her is like a lash at my back, one I’ve never felt. But, then again, I’ve never come across an Omega who wasn’t on suppressants. Her body is on the verge of going through its needing phase, and the primal call of her to we three Alphas is more certain than sunrise and stronger than the pull of a black hole.

  “Half an hour, based on the Centari sun, and two additional minutes, depending on solar wind currents,” the control panel answers.

  “By the Pillars!” I grip the shuttle door handle. “This is torture. We won’t last that long.”

  Her pain fades, and I close the small link I opened between us. Looking up with a puzzled expression, she says, “What? What is it? Why do you look scared? Is this the part where an alien bursts out of my chest or something?”

  “Suppressants.” I keep my grip on the door handle as filthy thoughts play through my mind. “Are there suppressants onboard?”

  The computer makes a ‘hmm’ sound, and a small bay pops open near Lana’s head. A pneumatic syringe is inside, the blue liquid glowing slightly.

  “What is that?” She looks around, eyes wild. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “You aren’t on suppressants.” I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at her heaving chest, the way her muddy hair curls around her face, the way her body curves and flares.

  “On what?” She grips her stomach again, her low moan of pain sending desire coursing through me. Only an Alpha can take away her building agony. Unless she uses the suppressant.

  “That syringe.” Jeren’s voice is low, rough. “You need to take it and inject yourself.”

  “No way.” She winces.

  “Yes,” Ceredes barks. “Do it now.”

  “I don’t even know what that is. I can’t just stick something in me—”

  “Don’t.” I groan and open my eyes. “Don’t say that.”

  “Don’t say what?”