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

‘Oh, fuck. Not him again.’

The familiar woman’s voice cuts through the chaos of the cramped underground passageways of my little empire. Candy. One of my best ‘waitresses.’

And judging from the pissed tone in her voice, I’m gonna have to break a few bones. Almost noon, so it’s about time.

Been a slow morning.

I duck under a low-hanging bundle of contraband electronics beneath the flickering neon signs flashing over the shortcut to the bar. The ground here is tacky with spilled synth-booze and old blood.

Just another Tuesday night in paradise.

A pair of alphas slink past, eyeing me warily. Smart. One look at me is enough to tell most people not to fuck around. I’m tall even for an alpha in these parts—six-nine, according to the last wanted poster—and burlier than the average asshole who haunts these parts, even if there’s nothing particularly flashy about my battered leather jacket and denim getup.

Never been a fan of suits.

The eye patch probably helps. There was too much fucking damage for a prosthetic, and covering it up results in less annoying comments.

And I’d rather the odd omega I bed here and there as time permits didn’t puke into my mouth while she’s knotted and riding my dick. Wasn’t exactly an enjoyable experience the last time.

For either of us.

Other than that, I don’t give a shit. Anyone who’s survived a little maiming and mayhem in the Outer Reaches has his marks. Sure, mine’s worse than most, but it is what it is.

What does get to me is that the fucker who took my eye is still walking around with all his significant pieces intact. But these shady assholes don’t know that. I bare my teeth in what could generously be called a smile and they scurry off like rats fleeing a sinking ship.

I’m not in the mood for trouble tonight.

I round the corner toward my pride and joy. Pandora’s Box. Pun absolutely intended.

Well, as much pride as a grimy underground strip club can inspire. But it turns a tidy profit, and more importantly, it’s an endless font of information. Amazing what people will let slip when they’re three sheets to the wind and distracted by a pair of tits bouncing in their face.

The thumping bass grows louder as I approach, but I still catch a scrap of conversation from Candy and one of my other girls huddled by the staff entrance.

“Swear to god, if he doesn’t stop bitching about the music, I’m gonna put nightshade in the next scotch he orders.’

‘That creep who grabbed your ass?’ the other girl—Bree, I think, but it’s hard to say when this place is a revolving door—asks.

My hands curl into fists reflexively. Looks like I might have some bones to break after all. But Candy just snorts.

‘Nah, I handled that asshole myself. Fucker won’t be using that hand for a while.’ There’s a vicious satisfaction in her voice that makes me grin. ‘I’m actually talking about the pretty one. Keeps crying into his drinks and moaning about some omega who dumped him or something.’

Well, shit. That piques my interest for an entirely different reason.

‘The one with the angel face and golden hair?’ Candy asks. ‘Damn, what a waste. I’d climb him like a tree if he wasn’t such a sad sack. I’d be afraid of him crying into my cunt instead. But hey, he tips like royalty.’

‘Honestly, I’m surprised he even likes omegas.’

‘Yeah, but I heard he goes both ways. Wouldn’t mind bein’ the beta sandwiched in between those⁠—’

And with that, I’ve heard enough. These girls have no standards. Or maybe I’m just getting older.

Even before I stride into the dimly lit bar, I know exactly who they’re griping about.

What I don’t know is why the hell he’s here.

Even though my sense of smell is fucked, the sickly sweet stench of cheap perfume and sweat still manages to burn my nose as I push my way past a three-sided cage containing a gyrating voluptuous beta and the throng of men trying to stuff bills through the bars. Any other night, I might stop to appreciate the view, but apparently, I’ve got company.

My eye is immediately drawn to the bar. He’s easy enough to spot in this shithole. Like a fairy tale prince wandered out of the pages of his fae fantasy and got lost in an apocalyptic tragedy.

A familiar cascade of golden hair—not what you’d expect from his name—spills over broad shoulders, attached to a lean figure slumped over the bar amid a sea of empty glasses. Even from here, I can see his hand shaking as he raises his current glass to his lips and throws his head back, amber liquid sloshing over the sides.

‘Another,’ he slurs, waving the now-empty glass at my long-suffering bartender. ‘I have nothing left to live for.’

I groan, already feeling a headache building between my temples. I should’ve known things were too peaceful lately.

Too—dare I say it—normal.

Raven.

Mercenary, information broker, and the biggest pain in my ass this side of the Outer Reaches. Also the prettiest, and he knows it, which makes him even more insufferable.

I stalk over to the bar, snapping at the bartender. ‘Don’t you dare pour him another drop.’

The bartender, a burly beta named Brick, looks relieved. ‘Boss, I swear I was about to cut him off. He’s been here for hours.’

I wave him off. Not his fault. Raven can be… persuasive when he wants to be.

Which is most of the time.

At the sound of my voice, Raven’s head snaps up. His blue eyes, bloodshot and unfocused, lock onto mine and sharpen with recognition.

‘Daddy!’ he shouts loud enough to wake the dead, lunging up from his seat with alarming agility for someone who’s ingested enough alcohol to kill an elephant, and his arms are around my neck before I can step back and let him eat floor.

I stumble backward as Raven’s full weight slams into me, his arms locking around my neck like a vice. Crazy fucker’s stronger than he looks, especially drunk off his ass like this. I can barely smell his usual ritzy cologne over the booze.

‘Son of a fucking whore,’ I growl, shoving him off me. He staggers, nearly toppling over before catching himself on the edge of the bar and giving me a wounded puppy look. ‘How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? I’m not your fucking father. We’re not even related.’

‘Maybe not by blood,’ he whines.

‘Or marriage. Or adoption, or any of the other ways to be related,’ I remind him.

He slumps back against the bar and pouts as if he’s not the deadliest fucking shot this side of Surhiira. ‘I’m emotionally devastated. I needed to be around family right now. I need support.’

He reaches to snatch a glass from another patron who’s walking toward the stage. The man turns back sharply and looks like he’s about to throw down, but then he catches sight of the revolver resting openly on Raven’s hip and thinks better of it.

I snatch the glass out of Raven’s hand and a drop of liquid sloshes onto the frilly white collar of his open shirt that looks like he just robbed a poet’s corpse. I swear, this fucking lunatic’s gonna be the death of me.

‘Enough of that,’ I snap. ‘You’re drunk enough.’noveldrama

‘First I lose the love of my life, now rejected by Daddy,” he laments, digging a hand into his golden waves. ‘Life is a cruel mistress.’

‘The love of your life?’ I echo dryly. ‘You wouldn’t know a committed relationship if it fucked you in the ass.’

His eyes narrow sharply. ‘I’m a changed man, Geo. A Lothario like you wouldn’t understand.’

“A Lothario? Me?” I echo with a dry laugh. ‘That’s rich coming from you.’

I catch Brick’s confused glance from behind the bar. Great. Just what I need—more bullshit rumors floating around about me and this walking disaster.

Fuck it, I’m clearly not gonna get rid of him anytime soon. I grab Raven’s shoulder and muscle him toward the bar exit. ‘Come on. We’re taking this to my office. You get an hour, then you’ve gotta go.’

‘Wonderful,’ he says, brightening so quickly I’m starting to wonder if the bereaved lover boy thing was just a mask.

Who am I kidding?

Every aspect of his personality is.

I catch a few stray glances from some of the alphas we pass as we press through the teeming masses packing every inch of the labyrinth that is the black market. Raven hangs off my arm the whole time, prattling away, but I’m too irritated to hear anything he’s saying. He doesn’t stop when I try in vain to shrug him off, either.

They’re all going to think I’m fucking him.

As if I need more complications in my life.

Raven finally lets go of me and struts on ahead, picking his way through the crowd with feline grace. He knows his way through these damn corridors better than I do. But when he stops outside the battered metal door to my office and taps in the code, that’s a bridge too far.

‘The fuck?’ I cry. ‘I never gave you the code.’

‘Are you forgetting I used to live here?’ he asks dryly as the keypad chirps and lights up green. He pushes the door open and strides in like he owns the place. ‘FYI, you should keep your codes somewhere more secure than your desk.’

‘It’s in a hidden fucking drawer!’ I bellow.

He ignores me, looking around at the mismatched furniture and picking up a throw pillow with his fingertips, his aquiline nose wrinkling slightly in disdain. ‘I see you’ve… redecorated.’

‘Your mother ever tell you if you don’t have anything positive to say, you should just shut the fuck up?’ I ask, leaning against the edge of the sofa.

‘Don’t know, closest thing I ever had was a Madame,’ he muses, squinting around the room as if he’s trying to focus. ‘It… isn’t as sticky as it looks like it would be?’

I take a deep breath. If that’s his attempt at nice, I’d rather him just be an asshole.

‘Raven, why are you here?’ I demand, lowering my voice. ‘And what’s all this about you getting dumped by some omega?’

I’m expecting him to tell me he fell for one of the girls at his club who turned out to have a jealous husband who doesn’t like to share. He’s always had a thing for other alphas. To be fair, he likes omegas, too.

Anything with a pulse, really. Although he’s been known to check out statues.

But something’s different this time. The mask slips, and suddenly, the Raven I know with his swagger and sharp edges is gone. In his place is someone I barely recognize, raw and vulnerable in a way that makes me deeply uncomfortable.

I hope he doesn’t cry again.

Fuck, I’m bad with crying people.

‘She didn’t dump me,’ he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. ‘I didn’t even have time to get her name. But she was the most bewitching thing I’ve ever seen.’

I raise an eyebrow, torn between amusement and concern. ‘You’re this attached to a woman you haven’t even properly met?’

Raven sprawls out across the couch, my couch, shiny leather boots and all. ‘Time has no meaning in the presence of a goddess,’ he declares, his voice rising as he gazes wistfully up at the fluorescent light bulb dangling from the ceiling. ‘I knew the moment I saw her—no, the moment I caught her scent—it was meant to be.’

Yeah, continuing this conversation in the office was the right choice. He’s already making a scene.

‘Must’ve been some whiff.’

‘You have no idea,’ he says in a hungry tone I’ve never heard in his voice before. Needy, sure. Horny? Almost always.

But this is something different.

Something I’d rather not have happening on my couch.

‘Just tell me what’s going on,’ I say, keeping my voice gruff. ‘Preferably without the theatrics.’

Raven’s silent for a long moment, his head lolling to one side. When he finally looks up, his eyes are red-rimmed and glassy.

‘She was right there under my nose,’ he says quietly. Reverently. ‘The most perfect being I’ve ever laid eyes on. Silver hair like moonlight, eyes like amethysts. All plush curves and the most glorious ass this world has ever seen.’

‘Yeah, that’s real poetic,’ I say flatly. ‘Most of it. But you’re surrounded by beautiful women on a daily basis and god knows enough of them fling themselves at you. What makes this one different if you don’t even know her name?’

‘Her scent,’ he repeats, sitting up and running a hand through his tangled golden hair. There’s an intensity in his gaze that catches me off guard. Shrewd and wolfish. ‘It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and you know I’ve tasted, smelled and touched every manner of debauchery this world has to sell.’

‘She’d better smell like fucking filet mignon if you’re goin’ on this much about it.’

‘Moonlight,’ he answers, and for the first time since he came prancing into my life with a fucking grenade launcher on his shoulder, he’s stone cold serious.

Which is funny, considering that’s one of the more ridiculous things he’s ever said. But the glare he gives me when I can’t help but laugh confirms he’s not joking.

‘Moonlight? You mean her hair, or the way she smells?’ I echo, trying not to sound like an incredulous asshole.

It’s not going well.

‘You’d understand if you were there,’ he snaps, drifting to that far off place the next instant. ‘Or maybe you wouldn’t.’

I resist the urge to roll my eye and swallow the groan building in my throat. This isn’t just one of his histrionic fits. It’s one of his obsessions, and that’s so much fucking worse.

The last one was Nikolai Vlakov.

And it damn near killed us both.

‘Alright,’ I say, winding around my desk and dropping into the battered leather chair that’s perfectly worn out. I reach for my key and unlock the desk drawer—he’s probably got a copy of that somewhere, too—and pull out my not-so-little black book. ‘Tell me about this ‘moonlit goddess’ of yours and we’ll find her.’

‘All I know is that she was with Monty Filch in the Alpha’s Alpha,’ he says, sitting up abruptly. All business now. ‘At least, I think she was.’

‘Monty Filch? You know he’s⁠—’

‘Dead, I know,’ he interrupts with an impatient wave of his hand. ‘Courtesy of the Ghosts.’

The way he spits their name like a curse, I take it things didn’t go well when I sent them his way. Can’t even remember what they wanted now. Something about omegas. A lot of people come to me with a lot of bullshit, but the particular brand of bullshit the Ghosts peddle is one I like to shoo out the door as soon as possible.

‘Yeah, no shit. They took out the entire Council and half of Reinmich’s tin soldiers,’ I say, folding my arms. ‘I hope you’re not trying to tell me the Ghosts took your mystery woman, because if that’s the case, you’re shit outta luck. If you haven’t noticed, they’re a little beyond the pay grade of gutter trash like us these days.’ I snort at the thought and mutter, ‘If I’d known one of them was the fucking crown prince of Surhiira, I would’ve charged.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ he hisses. ‘I don’t give a shit if that pretty boy germaphobe is the king of the entire fucking universe. I will have her. With or without your help.’

I stare at Raven, trying to gauge if this is just another one of his dramatic performances. But there’s an intensity in those blue eyes I’ve rarely seen before. The playful, flirtatious mask has fallen away completely, revealing something raw and desperate underneath.

Fuck.

He’s actually serious about this.

Which means he’s gonna get himself killed.

The thought causes a dull twinge in the pit of my stomach I haven’t felt in long enough it takes me a second to recognize it for sadness.

Huh. Guess I did get a little attached to the flamboyant psychopath after all.

‘Okay,’ I say casually, snapping my black book shut with a decisive thud. ‘Without me.’

The effect is immediate. Raven’s face crumples, his bravado crumbling like a sandcastle hit by a tidal wave.

‘What?’ he croaks, voice cracking. ‘You can’t! Geo!’

I push myself up from my chair, already regretting not kicking him out the moment he stumbled into my bar. But Raven latches onto my arm, clinging to me like a barnacle as I try to make my way to the door.

‘You’re friends with that serial killer from Vrissia!’ he whines, his nails digging into my arm in desperation. ‘You have an in that I don’t!’

I snort, shaking my head. ‘Saying I’m ‘friends’ with Valek is a stretch.’

But Raven isn’t listening. He’s in full meltdown mode now, literally hanging off me as I try to leave my own damn office. I stagger under the unexpected weight as he plants his feet on the cheap tile floor. For someone so lean, he’s surprisingly heavy when he wants to be.

‘I’ll do anything,’ he pleads, his eyes blown wide. ‘I’ll pay any price.’

I’ve seen that look of frenzied desperation before. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was an addict desperate for his next fix, and I guess he is. He just happened to pick the most dangerous substance there is.

An omega that belongs to someone even more dangerous than him.

‘I make plenty of money, thanks,’ I growl, trying to pry him off my arm. But he’s like a fucking cracked out octopus, all limbs and desperate grip.

Raven pauses in his assault, his eyes darting around the cramped office. Even upside-down, I can see the judgment in his gaze. ‘And you still choose to live like this?’ he asks, doubt dripping from every word.

Annoyance flares hot in my chest. I’ve worked my ass off to build this empire from nothing, carving out a place for myself in the unforgiving wasteland of the Outer Reaches.

So it’s a shithole.

But it’s my shithole.

I finally manage to dislodge him, dumping him unceremoniously onto the worn sofa. Without a backward glance, I stalk out of the office and into the pulsing heart of the black market. But of course, Raven follows, stumbling after me like a persistent shadow.

‘I’ll give you a blowjob!’ he calls out, loud enough to turn heads even in this den of depravity.

That’s it.

I whirl around, grabbing him by the front of his frilly shirt and yanking him close. ‘Listen here, you little shit,’ I snarl, my voice low and dangerous. ‘I didn’t want to fuck you when you came begging me for a job at the brothel years ago, and I sure as fuck don’t want to now. I don’t like alphas, I hate men, and even if I got a complete fucking personality shift and started tomorrow, you’d be the last.’

Raven has the audacity to look offended. Before his eyes get any glassier, I grumble, ‘Besides, I thought you said you saw me as a father.’

‘I do,’ he says simply. ‘I have an Oedipus complex and daddy issues. It’s part of the fun.’ He wrenches himself free of my grip and smooths down his ridiculous shirt. ‘And for the record, I didn’t beg,’ he says haughtily. ‘You know damn well I was the best whore this cesspit ever saw. Had the customers lined up around the block.’

Before I can retort, his eyes light up with mischievous glee. He turns, waving coyly to a pair of men across the market. ‘Hi, boys,’ he calls out, his voice dripping with honeyed venom.

One of the men, a burly alpha I vaguely recognize as a regular, blushes furiously, while his companion looks like he’s trying to melt into the shadows. I roll my eye so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t pop right out of my skull.

‘Power bottoms, both of ’em,’ Raven whispers. ‘The big one likes having a crowbar shoved up his⁠—’

‘Enough!’ I bellow, throwing my hands up. ‘For fuck’s sake, Raven, I’m not helping you find that girl. There’s nothing in the whole damn world I want badly enough to get involved with the Ghosts again,’ I say firmly, turning away from Raven’s little show. ‘Especially now that they’re in bed with Surhiira. I value my fucking peace.’

I don’t hear him scampering after me, and he’s stopped bitching, so I’m actually starting to entertain the hope that he’s given up when the weasel utters the only words in existence that could make me falter.

‘Not even if I told you I know where you could find the Harbinger’s skull?’

I freeze, a mere few feet away from the sanctuary of my office.

From glorious silence.

From sanity.

Two things that are always in short supply when Raven is around.

I turn to fix him with a murderous glare over my shoulder. ‘If you’re shitting me⁠—’

‘Swear on the gods,’ he says, holding up his hands.

‘Coming from you, that doesn’t mean much,’ I say flatly.

A ghost of a smirk tugs at his lips. ‘Then I swear on my goddess.’ His eyes glint with sincerity as he takes a step closer in the dimly lit corridor. ‘Help me find her and I’ll get you the macabre little prize you’ve been chasing your whole life.’

‘Not my whole life,’ I grit out.

Most of it, though.

Ever since I started my own private museum, I’ve dreamed of owning the skull and antlers of the Harbinger. It was the first irradiated beast to climb out alive from the hollow left by the Judge, which was the cutesy name they gave to the last big nuke that fell in the war. The definitive end of the old world, and a mile marker for the beginning of this shitshow the rest of us have been living in ever since.

The Harbinger is a legend. Some say it’s just a campfire story and not even real. But it’s the kind of thing any bone collector worth his salt dreams of owning.

And just about the one thing on this earth that’s out of my reach.

Raven’s right about one thing. It is a macabre hobby, but when you’ve lived your whole life dancing with death, you either learn to live in fear or you fall in love. There is no in between.

‘If you’re lying, I’ll shoot you dead, peel the skin off your skull and put that on display instead,’ I say, jabbing a finger at the smirking dickhead in front of me. ‘Do we have an understanding?’

‘Kinky,’ he purrs. ‘We do.’

I grunt an acknowledgment and open my door, holding up a hand when he tries to follow me. ‘It’ll take me a few days to get in contact with Valek. In the meantime, I want to forget you’re even here.’

‘Fine,’ he says, sulking. ‘And here I was hoping it could be a family reunion.’

I slam the door on his face to make it clear just what I think about that idea.

I should just tell him to fuck off while I’m at it.

There’s no way Raven found the Harbinger’s skull. Hell, as obsessed as I am, even I’m not sure it actually exists.

But if there’s even a chance…

Well, at least I’ll get to satisfy my curiosity about this omega who’s got Raven drooling like a rabid dog. Usually, his lovers are the ones chasing him.

And if nothing else, I’ll finally have an excuse to kill him.