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

I wake to the gentle rise and fall of Knight’s massive chest beneath my cheek. For a moment, I keep my eyes closed, soaking in the comfort of my alpha’s presence. His warmth seeps through me, chasing away the perpetual chill of the underground.

Forty-eight hours.

The realization hits me with a jolt. Today marks the deadline I set—the end of my bargain with Raven. Time to leave this bizarre sanctuary with its bickering alphas and improbable comforts.

Time to go find Azarel.

Moving carefully, I extricate myself from Knight’s arm, which is draped possessively across my waist. His low growl follows me as I shift away.

‘Shh,’ I whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his masked cheek. ‘Go back to sleep.’

I know he won’t listen. Even half-asleep, he’s too vigilant, too protective. Sure enough, as I slip into the adjoining bathroom, I hear the distinct creak of the mattress as he sits up.

The face staring back at me in the mirror looks different somehow. Softer. My silver hair falls in waves around my shoulders, no longer tangled with dirt and blood. My skin has regained some of its color. Even the perpetual wariness in my violet eyes has dimmed.

I look almost… happy.

Dangerous territory.

The dress laid out for me is another gift from Raven. A deep burgundy this time, designed to complement my hair and skintone. I have to hand it to him, the alpha has better taste than my tailor back in Reinmich ever did. Probably trying to spoil me into staying longer with pretty things, a strategy I’ve encountered from alphas my entire life. The difference is, his gifts don’t make my skin crawl.

I could get used to this.

That thought alone should send me running.

As I slip the dress over my head, the soft fabric whispers against my skin. I turn in the mirror, admiring the way it hugs my curves before flowing gracefully to the floor. A dress fit for a high council gathering, not an underground black market.

Knight stands in the doorway, watching me with those intense blue eyes. Even with the elegant mask covering his face, there’s no hiding his appreciation. A low rumble vibrates from his chest. A sound I’ve come to recognize as approval.

‘Since you’re already awake,’ I say, turning from the mirror to face him. ‘Ready?’

He nods, the motion still slightly stiff but improving. I wonder if he dreamed last night. I wonder if he dreams at all. Ever since I’ve started falling asleep in his arms, he’s stopped haunting my nightmares.

I wonder what I’m going to do with him when we leave here.

Because we are leaving. We have to be. No matter how much a part of me has settled into this strange limbo, this isn’t real life. Real life is out there, with Azarel, with whatever future awaits us in Reinmich.

If there even is a Reinmich left to return to.

All I know is that I can’t stand the thought of being separated from Knight. But could we even make it past the border without them trying to attack him? Or imprison him and use him as a weapon?

The thought makes my blood boil, and my pointed nails dig into my palms. They’re freshly painted now, a shade of violet suspiciously close to my eye color. Courtesy of Raven.

I realize I haven’t indulged that particular painful habit lately. Haven’t had reason to, even without the sedatives my father swore my “fragile” omega psyche would collapse without. Must not be as on edge here.

The smell of bacon wafts through the air as we make our way down the corridor. My stomach growls embarrassingly loud. Knight notices, of course. Nothing escapes him. His human hand brushes against my lower back, a gesture both protective and oddly tender.

When we enter the kitchen, I’m struck by the unexpected sight of Geo at the stove. His massive frame looks almost comically large in the surprisingly homey space, his broad shoulders and back blocking most of my view of the stove as he flips bacon like he could do it in his sleep.

Despite his intimidating stature and the various weapons I can spot tucked into his clothing—a knife handle peeking from his boot, the outline of what’s probably a handgun beneath his untucked gray shirt—there’s something endearing about seeing this notorious underworld boss wielding a spatula instead of a gun.

‘Morning, Princess,’ he calls without turning. ‘Tin Man. Sleep well?’

‘Well enough.’ I slide onto a stool at the counter, Knight hovering behind me like a particularly deadly shadow. I don’t think he appreciates that nickname. ‘I didn’t take you for the cooking type.’

Geo snorts, sliding eggs onto a plate with practiced ease. ‘You think I’d let someone else handle my food? In this line of work? Faster way to die than picking a fight with your boyfriend there.’

Knight growls in confusion at the word ‘boyfriend,’ and I have to suppress a smile. I suppose that’s one word for it.

‘Does he eat bacon?’ Geo asks, nodding toward Knight while setting a plate piled with eggs and bacon in front of me. ‘I made extra.’

‘Of a sort,’ I say dryly.noveldrama

Geo grimaces as he reads between the lines, but he shrugs it off quickly enough. Too quickly, perhaps, considering the subject at hand. ‘Well, I’ve always got assholes in the cells who fucked with my girls down at the club,’ he offers. ‘He can help himself to those.’

‘I’d rather not think about cannibalism before breakfast,’ I reply, picking up a fork.

‘Is it cannibalism when you’re not all human?’ Geo muses, pouring coffee into a chipped mug that reads ‘World’s Best Dad.’ Something tells me he got that from Raven, considering he’s definitely not a family man. Not that kind, at least. ‘Philosophical question.’

‘I’m not equipped for philosophy until at least my second cup of coffee.’ I take a bite of the eggs, surprised to find them perfectly seasoned. ‘This is… actually good.’

‘Don’t sound so shocked.’ Geo slides a mug toward me. Not the dad one, I notice. ‘I’ve got skills beyond shooting people and looking intimidating.’

‘Oh, intimidating is what you’re going for? I thought it was more ‘grumpy derelict.” I smirk over the rim of my mug.

Geo’s lips twitch. ‘Charming. Big day,’ he says, changing the subject. ‘You decided yet?’

I knew the question was coming, but it still makes something twist in my chest.

Have I decided?

Knight stands silently behind me, awaiting my answer as much as Geo is.

‘I don’t see any reason to get so anal retentive about the exact time,’ I hedge, stirring my coffee instead of meeting his gaze. ‘What’s a few more hours?’

The smirk that spreads across Geo’s face tells me I’m not fooling anyone, least of all myself. I focus on my breakfast, unwilling to examine why I’m so reluctant to leave. It’s not just about Azarel anymore. It’s about… everything.

If I let Raven come with me, Geo is going to be pissed, and he’ll come, too. But I know Nikolai is going to follow us. And if he and Geo are alone in the same room for more than two seconds, they’ll kill each other.

For fuck’s sake, this is starting to feel like one of those ‘get across the river with a wolf, a goat, and a cabbage’ logic puzzles I used to hate growing up.

When did I start giving a shit about any of them?

‘Look who’s awake,’ Geo drawls, glancing toward the doorway. ‘You look like shit, kid.’

Raven stands in the entrance, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. His golden hair is loose in an uncharacteristic disarray, dark circles shadowing his usually bright blue eyes. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, rumpled now, like he might have slept in them. Or not slept at all.

‘This is why you’re single, old man,’ Raven replies, crossing to Geo and caressing his stubbly cheek before he pats it, a bit too hard to be friendly. ‘Your charm is simply overwhelming.’

Geo grumbles something unintelligible, but he’s already turning back to the stove, cracking more eggs. I hide a smile behind my coffee mug. The way they bicker, all softness wrapped in thorns, is annoyingly endearing.

And therein lies another complication. If Raven comes with me, I’m pulling him away from Geo.

Why should I care? Having a conscience is a luxury no one can afford—not out here in the Outer Reaches, and certainly not back home in Reinmich. I learned that lesson a long time ago.

‘My goddess,’ Raven says, turning to me with a tired smile that somehow still manages to light up the room. ‘You look absolutely radiant this morning. That shade of burgundy might be my favorite on you yet.’

I roll my eyes, but can’t suppress the warmth that creeps up my neck. ‘Flattery will get you nowhere.’

‘On the contrary,’ he replies with a wink. ‘It’s gotten me plenty of places.’ He turns to Knight, his smile faltering slightly. ‘And good morning to you, too… um, the Knight. You look especially… calm today.’

Knight growls low in his chest. I reach back to pat his arm, silently asking him to behave. It helps that Raven is clearly making an effort, despite his obvious exhaustion and lingering fear.

‘Just Knight,’ I tell him.

Raven nods. ‘Knight it is, then. I apologize for my tardiness,’ he continues, accepting a plate from Geo with a grateful smile. ‘But I have something that might make up for it.’ He produces an envelope from inside his jacket, holding it out to me with a flourish. ‘A gift, of sorts.’

I eye it warily. ‘If this is a gift certificate for another dress⁠—’

‘While I would adore seeing you in every color of the rainbow, this is a gift of a more… practical nature.’ His eyes sparkle with amusement. ‘Go on. Open it.’

Taking the envelope, I carefully break the seal and extract several sheets of paper. The language isn’t Reinmichian, but Surhiiran—elegant, flowing script that I can only partially decipher. I read slowly, picking out words and phrases.

Outpost… western territory… attack… single intruder… casualties…

‘This is a soldier’s report to his supervisor,’ I murmur. I’ve glanced over my father’s shoulder often enough to recognize that. ‘What does it have to do with Azarel?’

‘You can read Surhiiran?’ Raven asks, surprise evident in his voice.

‘A little.’ I shrug, still scanning the document. ‘I had access to my father’s library. And nothing else to do most days.’

Raven clutches his chest dramatically. ‘Immeasurable beauty and brains? I may faint.’

‘Save the fawning for your growly boyfriend, Prince Charming,’ I retort, gesturing toward Geo, who glares half-heartedly at me over his mug. ‘What does this mean? I’m only getting bits and pieces.’

Raven sighs, sliding onto the stool beside me. Knight growls in warning, and Raven makes a show of keeping his hands on the counter in front of him, where the larger alpha can see them. ‘I haven’t been able to find Azarel directly,’ he admits. ‘But my scout made contact with the soldier who wrote that report. One of the survivors at the outpost you were being held at, before the Ghosts transferred you to our feverish friend down the hall.’

Hope flutters in my chest. Dangerous, fragile hope that I’ve barely allowed myself to feel since I escaped from Nikolai’s compound.

‘The royal family has forbidden any mention of Azarel’s name directly,’ Raven continues, tapping a section of the report, ‘but the man who attacked the outpost—theoretically in search of you—matched his description perfectly. A tall Surhiiran man with long black hair and…’ he drops his voice, ‘… fighting skills that, according to my scout, were ‘otherworldly.”

‘That sounds like him,’ I whisper, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. Hope is a dangerous thing, especially out here.

‘The report is deliberately vague, but reading between the lines, it’s clear the attacker was looking for an omega prisoner. One who’d been moved elsewhere.’

I frown, focusing on a particular passage. ‘Wait… why would the Surhiiran royal family care about hiding Azarel’s name?’

When I look up, Raven is staring at me with an expression I can’t decipher.

It’s almost pitying.

‘What?’ I demand, suddenly defensive.

‘You don’t know, do you?’ Raven murmurs, tilting his head slightly. There’s no judgment in his voice, only confusion. Concern.

Even Geo seems confused, pausing with fork mid-air.

‘Don’t know what?’ I ask.

The knot in my throat tightens. There have always been secrets between Azarel and me. Hell, my father and I are the only ones who know his real name, as far as I’m aware. Even then, it’s only because I overheard him call Azarel that once, during one of their many hours-long meetings in my father’s study.

I never understood why a man like Azarel would work for a man like my father. Azarel possesses the quiet dignity and honor you’d only expect from a world that no longer exists. He’s the polar opposite of a callous merchant who would sell his own flesh and blood for the right price.

And has. My marriage to Monty and all the times I served as entertainment as those parties—at least until Azarel caught wind of it—is proof enough of that.

From the moment I first saw Azarel, I knew he was different, and not just because he was the first alpha whose scent intrigued rather than repulsed me. He was nothing like the men who licked my father’s boots while ogling me behind his back.

When I told my father Monty was selling me off to his friends, my father told me to shut my mouth and never speak of it again. When Azarel found out, people died. A lot of people.

I always knew he was mine.

My mate. My alpha. My destiny.

I kept his name clutched to my heart like a secret, a cherished possession. Every stolen moment, every kiss, was a gift. A treasure plundered from the cold, careless hands of a world that had offered me nothing but pain. Until him.

Raven hesitates, something painfully gentle in his blue eyes. It’s the look people get when they’re about to say something they know will hurt you. When they’re about to shatter an illusion you’ve been living with.

My nails dig into my palms again. Pricks of pain, familiar warmth pooling on the pads of my fingers. This time, the sting does nothing to keep the threads of me from drifting further and further apart.

Knight stiffens, another low growl rumbling from him as he watches my hands, but he doesn’t move. Just remains close. Strong. Watchful.

‘Cosima,’ Raven says carefully, reaching for my hand. I should push him away, but I don’t. The warmth of his touch grounds me in a way pain, my old friend, cannot. ‘This Azarel you’ve been looking for⁠—’

‘My mate,’ I correct, my voice brittle, on the verge of breaking.

Raven’s gaze softens. ‘Your mate,’ he corrects with a solemn nod, ‘is the crown prince of Surhiira.’

The world around me seems to freeze, then tilt sideways. The kitchen blurs at the edges as his words sink in. I realize my hand is shaking only when it meets the resistance of Raven’s gentle, steady grip. Anchoring me. The one thing keeping all the frayed strings from unraveling.

But I’m not sure I want them to stop.

Prince of Surhiira.

My Azarel.

The alpha I’ve been in love with for years.

The alpha who held me in my darkness, and showed me warmth I never knew. The alpha who promised he would take me away from all of it one day.

The alpha who never once mentioned he was royalty.

The alpha who fucking lied.

To be continued in Scarred Alphas (Ghost Alpha Unit #5)…