Page 58 of Ruined Omega

He lashes out, striking the Farlander who dropped me straight in his larynx. The Farlander’s eyes go wide and he sucks in thin, wheezing gasps. He stumbles and falls back into the mud. Some of his companions drag him away.

“Sorry about that,” Abaddon says softly.

He reaches under my armpits and lifts me out of the mud, standing me up on my feet which are unsteady after a long night of being carried. My toes squish in the thick mud. Behind him, Tal and Baen snarl protectively, and it takes several Farlanders to hold them back.

“There, there,” Abaddon chuckles. “I don’t mean her any harm. Not yet, at least.”

I cringe as his knuckle swabs a tear from my cheek.

He sniffs it. Licks it.

“Fascinating,” he murmurs. “What manner of creature is this.”

His eyes scan around the group of filthy Farlanders who have now encircled us. At this point, there are hundreds of them. Every Farlander in the camp is now awake and gathered around curiously.

“Where is Sickorax?” Abaddon bellows.

“Here, Master.”

The voice is thin and cold as the edge of a knife, drawing out the S into a long, sibilant hiss.

It is a woman who steps from the crowd and appears at Abaddon’s side. Her body is angular and bony. Her skin is pale as marble, and her black hair sticks up in spikes like the ruffled plumage of a raven. Her skin is decorated with strange symbols drawn in charcoal.

But the most frightening feature are her eyes. They are so dark that they appear almost totally black, like a pair of obsidian marbles. And behind those black eyes, I can almost see her mind churning with madness.

One thing is unmistakable, however. Her scent. She is an omega.

“What do you think, Sickorax?” Abaddon asks, gesturing toward me.

Sickorax reaches her left hand toward me and I see that her index finger is sheathed in a long, razor-sharp talon made from carved and polished bone. With this weapon, she tilts my chin.

“A fine specimen, Master,” the omega hisses. “Very fine indeed.”

“Agreed. But a specimen of what, my dear witch? I’m unable to identify her.”

The witch draws closer, invading my space. Her omega features are weirdly beautiful, until she smiles, revealing the rotten devastation of her mouth. Her foul breath makes me gag.

She pushes back the neck of my hoodie and sniffs my throat, first one side, then the other.

“Strange,” she mutters.

With a shocking quickness, the claw on her index fingers slices down the front of my hoodie, splitting it completely from top to bottom. Unbelievably, however, my body doesn’t even get nicked in the process.

“Leave her alone!” Baen shouts.

A Farlander silences him with a hard punch to the gut. The Farlander prepares to strike Baen again, but Abaddon raises a hand, and the Farlander stops.

Sickorax pulls the muddy cloth aside, exposing my naked breasts to the chill morning air. She sniffs me there too. I shiver as the tip of her claw traces over my belly. With two quick gestures, she snips the elastic of my panties, and they fall to the mud between my feet.

I try to back away, but Abaddon grips my neck, holding me still.

“Ah-ah,” he chides.

Sickorax bends, snuffling my sex. She rises again.

“Not an Outsider, Master,” she hisses and quirks a sharp eyebrow. “Not exactly.”

Without warning, she shoves the bare middle finger of her right hand into my vagina, and I cry out in shocked surprise at the invasion. She wriggles that bare finger inside me briefly, then withdraws it, sniffing her slippery knuckle.