Unhinged Omega: A Dark Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance (Ghost Alpha Unit Book 4)

I wake with a start, my eyes flying open. For a moment, I’m disoriented, unsure where I am or how I got here. Then it all comes rushing back—the chaos at the airport, my desperate flight into the forest, finding the Knight…

The Knight.

My breath catches in my throat as I realize I’m still curled against his massive frame.

And he’s awake.

Those eerie blue eyes are fixed on me, glowing faintly in the pre-dawn gloom. The weight of his gaze is heavy and intent. My heart flutters and pounds against my ribs as I wait for him to move, to attack, to finish what he started in so many of my nightmares.

But he doesn’t.

He just… watches me.

Slowly, carefully, I push myself up into a sitting position. My muscles protest, stiff from sleeping on the cold, hard ground. A violent shiver wracks my body as the bitter morning air hits my skin. Without the Knight’s fever-hot bulk pressed against me, I’m immediately aware of just how frigid it is.

That’s probably the only thing keeping my heat at bay. It’s still there, still lurking beneath the surface, but it’s tough for me to feel anything but ‘freezing my fucking ass off’ right now.

I wrap my arms around myself, teeth chattering. My breath puffs out in little clouds as I take stock of our surroundings. The forest is eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the soft gurgle of the nearby river. A thin layer of frost coats the dead leaves and branches scattered around us, glittering faintly in the weak light filtering through the skeletal trees.

It’s beautiful, in a desolate sort of way.

And deadly, if we don’t find better shelter soon.

At least for me. Not sure about him.

I turn my attention back to the Knight. He hasn’t moved, those glowing eyes still fixed on me. But there’s something different about his gaze now. It’s less predatory, somehow. Almost curious.

‘Can you understand me?’ I ask, my voice rough from sleep and cold.

He doesn’t respond.

I need to get him up. Need to get us both moving before we die out here. But how do I communicate with a creature I’m not even sure is fully sapient? Maybe not even sentient.

Wincing at the way my joints crack, I rise to my feet. ‘Up,’ I say firmly, making an upward gesture with my hands. ‘We need to get up now.’

For a long time, nothing happens. Then, slowly, laboriously, the Knight begins to move. I step back, giving him space as he struggles to his feet.

Even hunched over as he is, clearly weak from his injuries, he towers over me. I have to crane my neck to look up at him, and for a moment, that old fear threatens to overwhelm me.

But I push it down.

He hasn’t hurt me.

He saved me, in a way, by providing warmth and protection through the night.

And right now, he’s all I’ve got.

‘Good,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady and encouraging. ‘That’s good. Now we need to walk. Find shelter.’

I take a few steps, then turn back to see if he’s following. He is, but his movements are slow and unsteady. Blue-black blood oozes from some of his wounds where my makeshift bandages and herb packs have come loose. His breathing is labored, each exhale ending in a wet rattle that can’t be good.

But we’re on our own out here.

And I doubt anyone would try to help him.

I lead the way deeper into the forest, picking my way carefully over fallen logs and through tangles of dead underbrush. The Knight follows, his heavy footsteps crunching through the frost-covered ground. Every so often I glance back, making sure he’s still with me.

He always is, those glowing eyes never leaving me.

As we walk, I try to recall everything my mother taught me about wilderness survival. I wonder if she ever imagined a scenario quite like this.

First priority, shelter, her voice echoes in my head. You can survive three hours in extreme temperatures, three days without water, and three weeks without food. Find something to keep you out of the elements.

I scan our surroundings, looking for anything that might serve as a temporary refuge. A cave would be ideal, but those are hard to come by in this type of forest. A fallen tree, maybe? Or we could try to construct a lean-to…

My eyes land on a massive oak tree not far ahead, its thick branches reaching toward the pale sky. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do.

‘This way,’ I say, gesturing toward the tree. I’m not sure if he understands me, but talking helps. It makes this whole surreal situation feel a little more normal. ‘We can use the branches for shelter.’

As we approach the oak, I start gathering fallen branches and dead leaves. My fingers are numb with cold, making it difficult to grip anything, but I force myself to keep working. The Knight watches me in unnerving silence. I can’t tell if he’s confused or just observing.

‘Here,’ I say, holding out a branch to him. ‘Can you help?’

He stares at the branch for a long moment, then slowly reaches out. His fingers—not the metal claws—brush against mine as he takes it, and I’m struck by how warm he is, even now. He examines the branch, turning it over in his massive hand.

‘Good,’ I nod, encouraged. ‘We need more like that. As many as you can find.’

To my surprise, he seems to understand. Or at least, he starts mimicking my actions, gathering branches and piling them near the base of the tree. His movements are clumsy, but he’s trying. It’s more than I expected.

As we work, I keep stealing glances at him. The silver rays of pale morning light catch on his exposed skin, highlighting every ridge of scar tissue, every place where metal meets flesh in crude surgical seams. Most of the plating is concentrated on his right shoulder, upper right chest, and upper right back, supporting his clawed iron arm.

It looks… painful.

So does his face. The iron mask that haunted my nightmares for so long sits broken, revealing glimpses of the man beneath. He’s mangled to the point of having more scars than unmarked skin, but the structure is there. A strong jaw. Cheekbones. A straight nose. He’d be handsome if it weren’t for his lips and cheeks being torn away, exposing his razor-sharp teeth, muscle, and jawbone in a terrifying grin.

His messy, bloodied white hair is long enough to cover most of the damage, and if I don’t pay attention to his spine, he looks like a normal alpha. Just insanely tall and muscular. The rods and plating that were blown off have bared a steel reinforced spine that resembles the exoskeletons I’ve seen spec-ops soldiers wearing.

Only his doesn’t come off.

He still scares the shit out of me, sure. But his movements lack the predatory menace of my dreams. The closer he is to me, the slower he moves. Like he’s deliberately trying not to scare me more than his presence already does.

I find myself wondering, and not for the first time, what kind of monster would do this to another living being?

What purpose could such cruelty possibly serve?

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand.

Shelter first.

Existential questions later.

Once we’ve gathered enough materials, I start constructing a simple lean-to against the trunk of the oak. My mother’s voice guides me, memories of long-ago lessons floating to the surface about building on high ground to avoid flooding.

I position the shelter carefully, angling it to protect us from the wind. The Knight watches me work, occasionally handing me branches when I reach for them. It’s an oddly domestic scene, considering the circumstances.

‘This will keep us dry if it rains,’ I explain as I work, more for my own benefit than his. ‘And it’ll block some of the wind. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.’

He makes a low rumbling sound in his chest that I choose to interpret as agreement.

As I finish securing the last of the branches, I step back to survey our handiwork. It’s not pretty, but it should hold. At least for a night or two. Long enough for us to…

To what?

What exactly is my plan here?

I glance at the Knight, who’s staring at the shelter with an unreadable expression. What am I supposed to do with him? I can’t exactly waltz back into civilization with an eight-foot-tall killing machine in tow.

But I also can’t leave him here to die.

Which is fucking ridiculous, considering how many years I’ve spent living in terror just at the idea of him finding me. How many nights Azarel spent holding me against his chest as I sobbed and shook, traumatized by yet another nightmare as he promised to protect me even though I was pretty sure he thought I was nuts and was just humoring me.

But it isn’t the Knight’s fault he’s a monster.

The shelter is crude, but it’ll have to do. I eye our handiwork critically, already cataloging improvements we can make if we end up staying here longer than a night or two. Which is looking increasingly likely, given the Knight’s condition. He may be a hulking mass of metal and muscle, but even he has limits. The low rattling growl in his chest when he breathes concerns me more than I care to admit.

But shelter is only the first step. We need food, and soon. My stomach clenches painfully, reminding me that it’s been far too long since I’ve eaten anything substantial. The ‘food’ Nikolai’s lackeys brought me in that godforsaken tower feels like a lifetime ago.

I turn to the Knight, who’s still watching me with that unnervingly intense gaze. ‘We need to find food,’ I say, gesturing to my stomach. ‘Food. Eat. You understand?’

He just stares at me.noveldrama

Again.

Zero indication whether he understands or not.

I sigh, running a hand through my tangled hair. ‘Right. Well, let’s see what we can find.’

I walk down the slope, scanning the surrounding area and looking for anything edible. Most of the vegetation is dead or dying, victims of the harsh climate and lingering radiation.

The Knight is a constant silent shadow at my side. His presence is still unnerving, but I’m starting to get used to it. Like having an oversized, mutated guard dog.

Finally, I spot what I’m looking for. A cluster of bushes, their branches heavy with small, dark berries. I approach cautiously, examining the fruit. Blackberries. I pluck one, rolling it between my fingers.

‘These should be safe,’ I murmur, more to myself than to the Knight. I pop the berry into my mouth, savoring the burst of tart sweetness on my tongue. It’s not much, but it’s something.

I start gathering handfuls of berries, wishing I had something to carry them in. The remnants of my robe are barely holding together as it is. The Knight watches for a moment, then to my surprise, he starts mimicking my actions. His metal hand is too clumsy, the sharp claws destroying the delicate fruit, but his human hand is able to collect more than I can hold in both hands.

We work in silence, the only sounds the soft rustle of leaves and the occasional frustrated growl from the Knight when he accidentally crushes a berry. Before long, we’ve stripped the bushes bare.

I turn to the Knight, holding out a handful of berries. ‘Here,’ I say. ‘You should eat too.’

He stares at the offered fruit, then back at me. There’s an intelligence in those glowing eyes that unnerves me. He understands more than he lets on, I’m sure of it. But he makes no move to take the berries.

‘Come on,’ I coax, feeling ridiculous. I’m trying to hand-feed berries to a giant mutated alpha with monster jaws. What has my life become? ‘You need to keep up your strength.’

Still nothing.

I frown, a new thought occurring to me. Maybe he can’t eat them. Those razor-sharp teeth certainly look more suited to tearing into meat than delicate berries. A shudder runs through me as I remember the way those teeth sank into my neck in my dreams, the phantom pain so real I have to resist the urge to check for wounds.

What if he only eats…

I swallow hard, pushing the thought away.

Nope. Can’t think about that. Not now.

‘Fine,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘More for me, I guess.’

I retreat to our makeshift shelter, settling down on a bed of leaves I’d gathered earlier. The Knight follows, ducking his massive frame to fit under the lean-to. He sits across from me, those eerie blue eyes never leaving my face as I eat.

The berries are a poor excuse for a meal, but they take the edge off my hunger. As I eat, I try to plan our next move. We need more substantial food, and soon. But I have nothing to make snares with, and even if I did, I haven’t seen any signs of wild animals. This part of the forest seems eerily devoid of life.

Another problem. Fire.

The nights are bitterly cold, and while the Knight seems to radiate heat like a furnace, we need something better in case he decides to wander off. And I’m sure he’s cold, too, however warm his skin is.

‘We need to gather wood for a fire,’ I announce, brushing berry juice from my hands. ‘Dry wood, if we can find any.’

I stand, ducking out of the shelter. The Knight follows again, a looming presence at my back. Together, we scour the surrounding area for suitable firewood. It’s slow going—most of the fallen branches are damp or rotting—but eventually, we gather a decent pile.

I arrange the wood into a small pyramid, stuffing the center with dry leaves and smaller twigs for tinder. Now comes the tricky part. I’ve never actually had to start a fire from scratch before. In the Capital, everything was automated. Fireplaces lit themselves with the push of a button.

Mom taught me how, but I’m not sure about the finer details of this particular lesson. How hard can it be, though?

Very hard, as it turns out.

I spend what feels like hours rubbing two sticks together, trying to create enough friction to spark a flame. My hands are raw and blistered, my arms aching from the repetitive motion. Sweat beads on my forehead despite the chill in the air.

‘Come on,’ I mutter through gritted teeth. ‘Just fucking light already.’

The Knight watches in silence.

I glare at him, blowing a strand of hair out of my face.

‘Don’t suppose you have any hidden talents for firestarting?’ I snap.

He tilts his head, and for a moment, I think he might actually respond. But he doesn’t. I’m actually not sure he can talk with his jaws like that. He can sure as hell roar and snarl and growl.

I turn back to my task with renewed determination. I will not be defeated by two sticks and some leaves. I am Cosima fucking Maybrecht.

Just as I’m about to give up and resign myself to a cold night, a tiny spark catches in the tinder. I freeze, hardly daring to breathe as I nurture the fragile flame. Slowly, carefully, I add more kindling, coaxing the fire to life.

‘Ha!’ I cry triumphantly as the flames grow stronger, licking at the larger pieces of wood. ‘Take that, nature!’

I sit back on my heels, admiring my handiwork. It’s not much, but it’s a fire. Warmth and light in the gathering gloom of evening. I hold my hands out, savoring the heat against my chilled skin.

It takes me a moment to realize the Knight has moved way, way back from the fire, watching it like it’s going to bite him. Is he afraid of it? Interesting. I’m having a hard time imagining him being afraid of anything at all

‘It’s okay,’ I say gently, feeling again like I’m trying to reason with a wild beast. I hold my palm out to the fire, letting it warm my hand without getting close enough for it to burn me. ‘See?’

The Knight inches closer, drawn by the flames. He reaches out with his human hand, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think he’s going to plunge it into the fire. But he stops just short, palm hovering over the dancing flames like I just did.

As if sensing my concern, he turns those glowing blue eyes on me. They’re just as intense and feral as ever, but they’re fractionally softer than they were before.

He shifts, his massive frame blocking out what little remaining daylight filters through the trees. As he moves, his arm brushes against mine.

And just like that, everything changes.

Heat floods through me, sudden and overwhelming. But it’s not from the fire. This heat comes from within, molten and insistent. My skin feels too tight, every nerve ending hypersensitive. The tattered remains of my robe rasp against my nipples, sending jolts of sensation straight to my core.

Oh shit.

This can’t be happening.

But there’s no denying it. My heat, held at bay by adrenaline and the bitter cold, comes roaring back with a vengeance.

I scramble backward, putting as much distance between myself and the Knight as the small shelter allows. My breath comes in short, sharp pants. I clench my thighs together, trying to ignore the slick warmth gathering there.

The Knight goes very, very still. Those glowing eyes fix on me with laser-like intensity as a low growl builds in his chest. Does he know what’s happening? Can he sense the change in my scent?

Of course he can.

He’s an alpha, no matter how twisted and changed.

And I’m an omega in heat.