Two once loved her.
Before prejudice ruined her and biology settled in, Euodia had been a kind sweet child that knew no evil. She'd been a best friend to orphaned Solar; she was a shoulder to cry on, the only person in the world that cared for him, and the love of his life. Euodia was once an angel, a beautiful girl that found him in the streets, shivering and wet—dying.
She brought him back as a servant, but to Solar, she brought him back to life.
He would do absolutely anything for her. He'd lay the gossamer and moonshine of his silvery wings upon a platter just for her love, would give her his eyes just so she could see, his organs if she needed them to live, and his heart just as long as she asked politely.
He was her willing slave.
And he proved his worth; spent years training in the barracks with a master that whipped him bloody, and yet he held on to the sliver of cloth she'd given him, brushed it against his lips when the days got too hard. Her handkerchief to wipe his eyes had been his sole comfort for decades.
She was his everything.
He worked until his knuckles were bruised, and blood spilled free, until callouses formed and his body was riddled with scars. He crawled from muck and rose to the top, killed Lonely and protected her from all, eventually became responsible for her security.
The first Omega guard.
But Euodia had stolen his virginity, sunk her teeth into his neck in marked bliss just for the orgasm, just to see what he'd experience with a bite. She'd smiled when he'd tearfully sobbed questions of the authenticity of their 'marriage' when she'd refused his. Then spun and took another to her bed.
It was stone cold betrayal.
She left him in the streets to fend for himself, tossed him out with nothing but the cloth on his back and the bloody wound on his neck. A half-bonded Omega was destined to die. And in the cold winter storm, with the remains of their baby seeping from between his legs, he swore on the moon, vouched in sacred oath that he would kill her.
And he would relish in her pain.
*
Helios
He should be happy.
He purred; felt the featherlight touches of fingers over skin; felt thumbs dig into sore spots on his back that made him arch. He was curled in a bed made of down and silk, filled with pillows and soft things: mossy crochet, fuzzy baby toys, and wool knitted scarfs—a nest of plump innocence and childish joy.
And his pleasure dripped from him, wet and sticky, coating the sheets in his cream. For once, his wings were dry; they did not smell like fresh blood and ash, but instead the caramel of his deepest scent, and his body turned to press against another. A heated being that sang and crooned, cock nestled within him, hips grinding in lazy thrusts.
A mate. One of his six, and his touch sent a thrum of heat through his chest, the song of their souls, entwined and safe. He smiled when silvery wings, iridescent and glittering like stars brushed against his skin, ticklish as he giggled, and another kissed his throat—upon his neck was a bite etched in silver.
Happiness.
It should have been everything he ever wanted. To be bathed so lavishly in Omegan scents that he was drunk in the fumes, felt the crawl of sweetness coat his tongue and flood his head. The space, so lacking in the tart musky completion of an Alpha.
The dominating hard prowess of people that once controlled him, forced him down onto marbled floor—a boot to the head, his lips planted upon grime, the salt of dirt on his tongue. God, they weren't his people, and the mere thought of them brought a sneer across his face.
Without tasting the muck, he could smell it now. It was bitter and coy, but it lingered in his head, and in his mind. Her. The burn of moth balls, the stench of cheap, acrid soap and the faint tinge of almond; the scent of a closet riddled with infestation.
Alphas…betas…females.
He hated them to the core, hated the control they had, hated what they were. Their personalities did not matter, not when it came to Helios. They were nothing but dogs in his arms, female bitches that stuck out their tongues and begged for a taste.
Personality left the moment his scent drifted from his limbs and into their nostrils. No one could resist him, and it was both his fortune and his curse. It seemed he was doomed to be a plaything, doomed to lay on his back and take everything.
To all Omegas, Alphas were pain.
Alphas were scent drunk maniacs, meatheads that stuttered and used them like breeding sacks. Girls that would pull at their legs and taunt their senses with perfumes that controlled. He'd seen them all, the Omegas in the bins waiting to be used just because of an unrelenting Heat. The Omegas on the streets, broken and torn. The Omegas in his arms.
His Omega.
Solar was broken and sobbing in his arms.
A mark fresh and bloody on his throat, but it wasn't complete didn't hold the shatter of light—colours that appeared with a completed bond. She wouldn't feel it just as much, because Euodia was a beta. And betas were numb.
But she did it anyway, pressed her teeth to his flesh and dug until a mark was left. Until blood pooled, until souls unfurled, and he was tied, bound and locked forever with a Beta that was not his. And then rejected Solar just before he could touch her skin with his teeth. Helios hadn't seen the betrayal, had not been there to witness it but he knew without a doubt that the happiness in his eyes had faded in the wind.
He'd been ruined, wrecked when she refused him, chose instead to pull Helios of all people to his feet and fucked him right in front of her newly bonded mate. But she could barely do it anyway, with a clit so tiny it didn't mean much. She was worse than the other Alphas who had—at the very least—a protrusion the size of a thumb. She was micro, weak and insecure.
But it was good that Helios could feel nothing from her, and his eyes had locked with Solar's. Solar who would later tear out the mark with his nails and erase the trauma. Solar who would take his bite so beautifully, then dig his teeth into Helios's neck along with five others.
Between slitted eyes, they'd made a promise of revenge.
And when Solar had lost his child, a little boy with the darkest hair and the most beautiful golden wings, a little boy that they swore to protect from his Beta mother. Helios promised that he would do everything to make her feel their pain and more.
It was marvellous to be freed from the domination.
To not smell a single stinking Alpha on the street airing their disgusting cunts and spreading the sickly musk in the air. It was glorious to be caressed and loved, to be worshipped. To have kisses peppered in his hair after sex, to have people that actually gave a damn if he hurt. To not be treated like a fucking sex toy.
To be free.
The intoxicating mixture of scents—him and his mates—was the taste of parfait, refreshing, sweet and tart on his tongue. It spread and filled, silky like velvet and so goddamn good that he could sink into it and never leave. He was needy when they made love, sat heavy and full upon a cock so thick it stretched and rubbed his prostate with the gentlest of thrusts.
It didn't take much to see stars, for his cock to throb and squirt runny fluid. He came so hard that he was screaming. The rhythm and precision, so perfect that his eyes rolled, and his lips were left parted. Tongue flopping through uncontrollable sound that left his throat, wild and free. He orgasmed to lovers that gave him everything, and yet…And yet—
Within him was a hole, wide and gaping.
He didn't realize, didn't notice its existence until two years had passed and one day he awoke with a crack within. It squealed and fluttered, squeezed around nothing like a crevice waiting to be filled. At first, it was an emptiness, the itch of his body, the burn of his belly as he tried so hard to cum but couldn't.
Then it became a never-ending hunger
It made him sink to his knees, drink semen thick in his throat hoping that the scent of his mates would fill and complete everything. It made him insatiable, made him pace and beg and breed. And yet, nothing was enough. He'd sank, tearful within sheets, heart grew so distraught that he began to wail in his sleep. He shifted his pillows, then he tore up his nest. Helios wanted more.
He wanted so much more than this.
This hell.
"What's wrong, what's wrong Helios? Please, you have to tell us"
His mates had questioned, attributed it at first to mental health and a broken soul from the thousands they'd killed. They would grow distraught, then hysterical when they realise the truth. The truth that they didn't know, could never anticipate.
The older Alphas, prisoners of war with scent glands long ripped from their throats, spent months deep in research. It took three months for them to realize what was wrong with Helios, by then it had been obvious.
Helios was turning, turning into one of the Lonely.
He was transforming into a being that was dead but alive. The monsters that were ridged and disfigured—rotting tissue, with blue skin and infected flesh. He could remember the look of them—dead and displayed upon a table, yet it moved and stretched.
Rubbed clean off blood, it was no longer crusted and inky. The thing had been wounded, dripping with infection and pus. But its skin was mostly grey with parts of it bulging with fluid like a blister. Its penis had been broken, dotted with boils and split to reveal the drip of horridly yellow semen. Teeth strangely sharp and the remains of its brains spilling down its head.
And yet, it had brayed and snarled teeth snapping bony wings fluttering with meaty remains as it struggled to eat. Its eyes had been milky blue, and it had stretched and screamed. Its hands had clapped around a dead cock, and Helios had watched transfixed, confused as it tugged open meat and seemed to try to cum.
It had been a siren like him, a fey, an omega.
That being was his future. Helios had tried to ignore the problem, tried to force his body into taking the energy and feeding. But no amount of sex could fill him. He was starving, and soon he would feast on all. They tried of course, sat on his cock, fed his soul and yet he remained just as hungry.
And suddenly he was experiencing everything.