Page 73 of Generation Omega: Claimed
Wait a second. If what you’re saying is true, shouldn’t the omega legacy clue them in? Won’t it guide them, so they better understand their roles? When I have questions, the legacy is the one telling me to just trust my alphas.
Oh, she’s snarling now, conveying in a variety of terrifying sounds her opinion on the omegaverse’s governing body. When she finally settles, though still clearly upset, she continues.
Your thoughts, ideas, and imaginings are the moss thriving in a hidden cavern beneath your castle, a sanctuary only for you. A garden where all possibility exists for you to explore before you unleash it on the world. Your alphas shouldn’t enter,not ever. They are reckless, uncontrollable sunlight streaming everywhere, singeing your delicate blooms, erasing your ideas before they can root, robbing you of exactly what you need to triumph.
Diminishing—they’re diminishing you while believing they are saving you. They don’t know any better. But I do, and so do you.
I want to discount her opinions, brush off her general rage as sour grapes toward the legacy that did her dirty. But no matter how much I try to make peace with my lack of privacy, a voice inside me—my own—is raging just as fiercely as the origin omega about this consequence of bonding my alphas.
To Ory, I played it off as almost trivial, but that was a lie. This isn’t about keeping the mystery with my alphas or even self-knowledge. It’s more than that. I’m modifying what I think, how I express my feelings, and what I focus on and for how long. I’m changing myself to be more acceptable to my alphas.
I’m carefully avoiding the topics that bother them, wound them, or cause them to flinch. I don’t obsess about Jameson’s past anymore, instead smothering all my questions about the curious unknown he represents. I don’t fixate on how incredibly he fucks me, because it makes Gideon tense. I certainly don’t consider how I’ll never get enough bondmarks to satiate my desire—they’re like a tattoo addiction at this point, and I’m ready to be absolutely covered with them.
I tamp down all my concerns about Ethan, even though I know he’s been going through something. I don’t play with scenarios about what the future might bring, because that would be stepping on my alphas’ domain. I refuse to let myself dwell on the hours I spent with Ethan in our true nest, when everything in my life was perfect. I also ignore the longing I have for my art that allowed me to communicate all that was once sacredbeneath the surface of myself—everything that’s been dragged into the light, just like the origin omega described.
I’m basically curating myself like a damn social media feed, only posting the happy or glamorous moments. I’m all fuzzy boots and trips to Aspen, never stomach issues or the stark sadness of being alive in a harsh world.
I see the danger now of losing myself—the person who was chosen as this generation’s omega—by compressing myself into an idea of who and what I should be. I’ve gained so much support, but at what cost if I’m never able to live my life beyond other people’s opinions and emotions?
All of that raises the real question. How can I keep them out? The nature of our bonds means they can block my number, but I can’t block theirs—except right now, with just Ory here.
Work with me. Let me help you. You need to survive, because I needhimto survive. You need to claim your crown and unite the future of the omegaverse that will touch every life. I am the beginning, and you are my legacy, the origin of a new age. You need guidance from someone who has been in your position, not anyone who simply watched from a distance with no blood on the line. They can’t help you—I can.
I want to believe you. I want to believe in sister omegas uniting for the good of all. But I need to ask a question, and I want an honest answer.
I won’t lie to you.
Do you want to steal my body and my life so that you can be with Ory?
Yes, she blurts, but then her sorrow and resolve filter through me as she adds,but I won’t… because of what he’s thinking.
What’s he thinking about?
You, Tillie—he’s thinking about you, overcome with a very different kind of love than he ever had for me. He must thrive, and so must Mackenzie. You will bear them sons, the two ofthem, twins in the womb, one from each strain of their shared life. I see it, and it must happen.
For them—for him—I pledge myself to you and the kingdom you will build, but you must help me. The legacy doesn’t approve of my interference. They will seek to silence me, as they have been for the precious, waning days of your life unless I’m freed to assist you. Ory can help. I’m more present when he’s near and more powerful—one omegaverse promise that was actually honored.
Is that why he can’t hear my thoughts?
Yes. When he’s with you, I’m able to interfere with the journey your thoughts take, disabling his reception. With Ory here and away from your other alphas, even the legacy can’t hear us, or they would have torn me away again—for your benefit, of course.That last part is seething.
Is the legacy wrong? Bad?
Not the right questions, and we’re running out of time. Mackenzie is here—think something salacious. I’ll help.
Before I can even consider, she shoves an image of me riding Ory’s punishingly huge cock, while gently kissing Mackenzie’s sweet lips and gripping his hair. Then she adds a detail that shocks me in its rightness, my belly round, proof I’m carrying their sons.
“Tillie!” Ory roars.
“What?!” I’m blushing so hard it might be fatal. “You said you couldn’t hear my thoughts?!”
“Ican’t, but Mackenzie just did!”
Always distract them with the scandalous, and don’t ever forget the power you hold over their cocks. You have basically seven cocks at your disposal, but there will be another if I can keep you alive that long.
Another? Really? Ugh.
It’s unseemly to complain about that which most women would kill for, possibly knife you in the heart and claim all those cocks for herself.
