Page 41 of Generation Omega: Claimed
Stop him.
I sprint toward the stairs, taking them a few at a time, until I’m on the stern deck watching as the professor races away in the boat I used to get here. The Russian assassin is beside me a moment later, working with Ethan to inflate a dinghy.
“What should I do?” I ask, my nerves twitchy as actual death waves at me through the omegaverse’s grim mood.
“Just stay here,” the Russian barks, as he and Ethan work smoothly as a team.
Gideon’s voice booms from the top of the stairs. “What the fuck is happening?!”
I cringe. It rattles my fucking soul when he gets ragey. Tillie’s in the arms of the feral kilted one. She’s shrieking, her torment fracturing my organs, my bones, everything inside me willing to tear itself apart so that I hurt as much as she does.
Bond her. Now. The more bonds she has, the more protected she will be from those she doesn’t have. Two now, with three unfinished. Three now will matter.
I’m about to offer my bite services when Gideon bellows, “Jameson, get up here! Bond her and fuck her. Ory will help. Her omega is willing to take the pain, so Tillie doesn’t have to.”
I rush up the stairs like I’m a trauma surgeon with the skills to save her life. “Where?” But I don’t even listen. I snatch her away from Ory and carry her to the table where she sat there and looked at me like I was more than my sex tape, unfortunate father, and low-life reputation.
She’s wailing, clearly not her omega yet. I’ve met that chick, and she would dance on the graves of all she slaughtered—a sweetly blooming flower, she’s not.
“Please,” Tillie cries. “It hurts.”
“I’m here, babe.” But I’m just standing there, looking at her while I search within myself for something I can’t even define.
Ory is near, hovering with murder in his eyes. “You must bond Tillie, not her omega. Then I’ll help her, if you can’t.”
I want to brush away her tears. I want to say something that will inspire confidence and trust. But that earnest declaration isn’t in my toolbox, and I certainly wasn’t chosen for my good intentions.
My sneering grin fires up like a muscle car engine, ready to race. “Hey, baby, look at me.” I don’t have confidence or trust to give, but I have something that might be better.
She’s trembling, gripping my arms with her quivering hands.
Let’s try this out and see what happens. “Say my name, sweetheart.” My voice is low, but the threat is unmistakable.
“Jameson Matthieu Farraway,” she stammers between choppy breaths.
“And who am I to you, darling?”
“My alpha.” Tillie winces from the invisible enemy ripping her apart.
“You’ve got that right. I am your alpha. Now, omega, beg for it,” I bark. Holy fuck—I barked and her eyes widen, abruptly distracted from her agony. Even a second of freeing her from that torture feels like an epic win.
Her eyes declare her prideful resistance, so I bark again, “Beg for my bite, right now. Seriously, if you want me to take you on as my lifelong omegaball and chain, you better be ready to beg. Iloveeating pussy. I love fucking raunchy and recklessly. My cock is a legit thrill seeker, and now you want me to join your team and share just one snatch for the rest of my life. It’s a gorgeous snatch you’ve got there, but still,sharing? Honey, you better start begging, and do it now.”
When Tillie’s words don’t immediately flow, I snap, “Bad omegas get punished.” I jerk her off the table and sit on the same chair as earlier, this time with her still-clothed body over my knees and struggling against my bruising hold. But she’s not crying now, though she may take a chunk out of my leg.
“You’ve got this,” Ory murmurs. “Off-balance, just keep her off-balance. She needs to trust that we’re her foundation, which means she doesn’t get to have one without us.”
I don’t respond because her ass is so fucking perfect and entirely spankable. I let loose on her. There is no pain I couldinflict with an open hand on her sumptuous ass that could compete with what’s happening inside her. She screams, trying to escape me.
“Stay there!” I roar, and her body responds, even while her mouth issues some disparaging statements about me, all well-earned and music to my ears.
“One fucking pussy shared with six fucking men—are you kidding?! Who do you think you are, sweetie?” Behaving like a sinister villain has never felt this good.
“I didn’t ask for this!” she shouts, and I spank her three more times… no, four. No, five. Six is definitely the magic number.
“Neither did I! So, tell me why I should do this. Tell me now.”
I lift Tillie, tear off her dress, and set her luscious naked body on the table, forcing her onto her knees. The hard surface won’t be comfortable, but this discomfort should help distract from worse. “So, let me hear it, my little, feral kitten.”
