Omega Mine
Chapter 8

Grabbing his food from the floor, Seven settled back onto his mattress, resting the tray on his thighs. The food looked less rotted today than usual; the bread wasn’t soggy and he could see distinct chunks of grains in the oatmeal. Not bad, and likely due to his victories last night.

Picking up the thick loaf of bread, he lifted it to his lips, mouth opening. Just then, a low-pitched growl filled the room, coming from Josephine’s stomach. Ignoring her, he took a bite, his irritation spiking when her hunger made itself evident once more.

“Be quiet,” he snarled, chewing roughly in an attempt to drown out the sound, but now whatever flavor the food had tasted like ash in his mouth, her hunger gnawing at him as if it were his own.

“I can’t make it stop,” she exclaimed, rubbing her belly through her too big shirt. “Just ignore it. I’ll be out of here soon, so I’m fine to miss a meal or two.”

He glared at her, grinding his back teeth together. It tugged on his conscience that he had the means to provide for her and didn’t, which in turn pissed him off as she wasn’t his responsibility in any way. He wanted to just ignore her, but for whatever reason, he was drawn to her instead. It didn’t help that she was strikingly beautiful, even after a shitty night’s sleep and lack of proper care.

Last night he’d been determined to ignore her appearance, torn between wanting to end her life and this raw, inescapable need to see how long she’d allow him to keep his mouth on her neck and her blood on his tongue. Holding her in his arms for the entire night had only made the latter urge so much stronger, until he’d found it difficult to sleep. He’d eventually succumbed to the slight press of her body against his, the delicate sound of her breathing lulling him into slumber.

Now that he was awake and feeling less hostile than he ever had before, he was more aware of her beauty than ever. Long, thick brown hair, a button nose, a plump lower lip he wanted to sink his teeth into and a pair of stunning green eyes framed by thick lashes that made his gut clench.

He didn’t see many women, not down here, but those he had encountered were nothing compared to her. Josephine.

“How about you answer a few of my questions and for each one, I’ll give you a bite to eat,” he eventually suggested, his gaze narrowed on her slight frame. Given that he was the malnourished one between them, he should have been hoarding his rations.

Instead, he recalled how he’d felt her hip bones jutting through her shirt last night, hating that she was so fragile. Too fragile. Every instinct was screaming that she needed proper care.

“What kind of questions?” She eyed him warily, posture stiff as she took a small step toward him.

“Didn’t I tell you that I was through answering your questions?” Seven asked gruffly, taking another small bite of food.

She pursed her lips. “That hardly seems fair.”

“And yet, I’m the one deciding whether or not you’ll eat.”

Josephine huffed, taking another small step toward him until she was within reach. “Fine. Ask away.”

“Why do you think you’ll be released from here? I could see how hopeful you were when the guard came by.”

“Ortega told me I’d spend a night with you, and I have. I can only assume I’ll be released at some point soon.”

He tore off a small chunk of bread, carefully holding the piece out to her.

“And you trust him?”

Josephine hesitated before shaking her head. Reaching out, her fingers brushed his as she took the small bit of food. Such a small sensation, but he could have sworn he felt it everywhere.

“No, I don’t even know him. But I can’t let myself think that I’ll be in here for more than another night at most. I’ve done nothing to deserve being imprisoned.”

Seven rolled his eyes, forking over another piece of bread. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done at such a young age to deserve being locked away and left to fight to the death several times a week for the rest of his life, but instead of snapping that at her, he found himself holding his breath as her fingers grazed his once more.

She popped the piece of bread into her mouth, staring at him contemplatively as he thought of another question to ask.

“Do you have a male that will be frantic to find you?”

Josephine raised a brow and he cursed himself silently for asking something so foolish. It didn’t matter if she had a male, but his insides twisted together, a rough knot forming in his gut that made him consider beheading the next person he saw.

“No. I recently moved to a town near here and live with my friend Sierra.”

He nodded, feeling strangely relieved and slightly less murderous than he had been a moment ago. “Is that your actual scent?”

Josephine chewed for what felt like forever before she eventually answered. “No.”

Another piece of bread, another brush of fingers. “So you’re concealing it… How?”

She sighed after eating this latest piece, running a hand through her dark hair. “There are things called scent blockers. I took one before coming here yesterday because I didn’t want to be hassled by anyone when I was delivering food from my town.”

“Is that permanent?” The thought that it was nearly made him see red, eyes narrowing into thin slits as he waited on her answer.

She shook her head. “It’s only temporary, and I’m surprised it hasn’t worn off yet. I wore Sierra’s clothes to mask my lack of scent, but an Alpha can typically tell that it isn’t genuine.”

“And that’s how I feel agitated with your smell. I know that it’s wrong.” Because he was an Alpha. The knowledge settled around him a bit more easily this morning than it had last night, though he still wasn’t interested in discussing anything further with her in that regard.

She paused, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I’m sure that’s it.” He heard her heartbeat increase, saw a bead of sweat form on her forehead and he snarled, startling her.

“You’re lying.”

“I–”

He stood, dropping the tray of food onto the mattress. Josephine backed up quickly, putting a small amount of distance between them as he stalked toward her. Her back hit the far wall of his cell before he plastered himself to her, incapable of maintaining the space she was so clearly seeking.

He breathed her in, eyes widening slightly as he caught a faint trace of something decadent before it disappeared. Traces of berries and vanilla. Was this what she meant? Her scent was slowly surfacing?

Needing more of it, he cupped her throat, squeezing slightly to keep her still and at his mercy. “Don’t lie to me again. If I ask a question that you don’t wish to answer, tell me.”

“I don’t want to answer your question,” she responded immediately.

“That’s fine,” he grumbled, irritated that she answered so quickly.

“You’re not mad?” she asked him, curiosity lacing her tone.

Seven curled his lip, on the verge of telling her that he was always mad. He paused before he could utter the words, realizing that he hadn’t felt any sort of rage all morning, not like he usually did.

“No,” he said slowly, frowning. Clearing his throat, he dropped his hold, returning to the food and scooping up a spoonful of oatmeal. “Sit.” He looked pointedly at the spot on the bed beside him, clearly expecting her obedience.

Josephine didn’t move for several seconds. Her stomach rumbled again, and she gave in, leaving her spot along the wall to sit on the bed.

Satisfied, Seven brought the spoon to her lips. “Open.” As soon as she did as he commanded, her lips wrapping around the spoon, his dick hardened. Images of her wrapping those pretty lips around his cock flared to life, drowning out everything else but the rampant need encompassing him.

She inhaled quickly, nearly choking on the oatmeal as her eyes snapped to his erection. He wasn’t wearing any clothing and the tray was still on the bed, leaving him exposed to her gaze, not that he minded. He’d grown used to his lack of clothing over the years, only ever wearing a pair of jeans and shoes during his fights and nothing more. He wasn’t going to change his ways just because she was in his domain.

She kept her gaze locked on him despite how dark the room was, her breath caught as he pulled the spoon free, gathering more oatmeal onto the utensil before feeding her again.

There was something possessive in the action, and he couldn’t help but give her more food, his questioning forgotten in the wake of needing to care for her, overtaking his own need for self preservation. He caught another trace of berries and vanilla, shuddering as it disappeared.

When half of the contents remained in the bowl, she turned her head away slightly. “You can have the rest. You need it more than me.”

“Are you implying that I’m weak?” he bit out, dropping the spoon into the oatmeal with a thick clatter. His decent mood evaporated in an instant, the urge to lay her back on the bed and show her how virile a male he was nearly overwhelming.

Her face blanched before she narrowed her eyes, her own frustration rising to the surface. “That’s not what I said at all. You’re bigger than I am and you need more sustenance than I do. But if you’re going to be a dick, then don’t eat.”

Mollified by her catty answer, he finished the remainder of the meal, eyes barely leaving her as he did so. His erection was still prominent, but he ignored it.

“Did you have more questions for me?” she asked eventually into the silence, squirming.

Whatever questions he could think of disappeared as she squirmed again, looking clearly uncomfortable.

“Why are you doing that?”

She flushed, shaking her head instead of answering. “Josephine,” Seven began, impatience thick in his voice. “Do you need to take a piss?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, rocking awkwardly.

He pointed toward the small toilet. “Then go.”

“I can’t just go with you in here. It’s weird.” Her face twisted in discomfort.

He looked around wildly, unsure of where the fuck she expected him to go. “It’s either you piss in the toilet or your pants.”

He didn’t tell her that he could bang on the door and demand to be released into the general area where the other captives sometimes lingered. There were more toilets–although none that were private–, a small area to workout and another section for sparring.

Seven almost never ventured out of his cell for those purposes, not seeing much of a point in associating with those he would end up killing eventually. Now that Josephine was with him, he was even more reluctant to leave, not wanting whatever scent clung to her to be noticed by the others.

The last thing he needed was some horny motherfucker challenging him for her, or trying to overthrow the guards in order to break into his cell, not that he couldn’t defend her. He simply didn’t want the hassle.

“I can hold it,” she said, more to herself than to him, but her voice was tight, body tense.

“Enough of this,” he snapped, pulling her up from the bed. He found the front of her pants, fingers fumbling with her button and zipper as she began to struggle against him.

“Knock it off,” she seethed, smacking his knuckles in warning. He didn’t heed it, nearly tearing her clothing as he managed to slide the material halfway down her thighs, her panties following suit. “Grayson!”

He didn’t react to the name, and he didn’t linger on her exposed sex, plucking her up and dropping her onto the toilet. Turning away from her, he moved further into the shadows, allowing her what privacy he could. There was a faint tinkle, followed by an audible, relieved sigh. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“That was really rude,” she told him before he heard rustling, followed by the toilet flushing.

There was a sharp knock on his cell door before he could reply, both of them tensing as a key slid into the lock.

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