Anointed Omega: Boreg

I strike the match on a dry spot on the stone wall, and it flares to life with a hiss and a scent of sulfur before settling down to a gentle flame.

“What are you doing?” Ophelia asks.

“I need to check your eyes.”

“My eyes? But I can see just fine.”

“Yeah, but I want to test your pupils’ response to light. They should contract quickly. If not, it’s a sign you might have a concussion. Now keep your eyes open and look at the flame.”

I hold the burning match in front of her face, and the warm, orange glow illuminates her features. For the first time, I’m able to really see the shade of Ophelia’s eyes – a beautiful golden hue that glitters like yellow Topaz in the firelight.

But something is wrong. Her pupils are dilated, and they refuse to contract when exposed to the brightness of the flame. It’s not that her light-reflex is slow. It simply doesn’t happen at all. Weird.

Source, those eyes are wonderful, though…

I stare into them a little too long, and I accidentally let the flame burn down until it singes tips of my fingers. I hiss in pain and drop the charred matchstick onto the ground. Behind me, Aleph snickers, and I growl at him in annoyance.

Fucker. I’d like to see him tend to this omega without getting distracted.

Actually, no I wouldn’t. If I’m being honest, I already feel possessive of this strange little omega. But the dilation of her pupils is still troubling. At first, I’m not sure what to make of it. Then I remember something Seraph told me once.

“Ophelia, I need to check your scent.”

“My scent? But – oh!”

She gasps as I bury my face against her neck and inhale deeply, filling my lungs with the mouthwatering odor of her skin. There is no question that she is an omega, but something about her fragrance is different, unlike any omega I’ve ever smelled before.

I dip lower, snuffling between her breasts, then lifting her elbow so I can sniff her armpit. She squeals and tries to pull away from me but I hold on to her tightly.

“Boreg, what are you doing?” she gasps.

But I barely hear her. I’m already sniffing lower, barely in control of my own actions. She mewls and squirms as my breath whuffles over her abdomen, and I feel a sudden and overwhelming desire to see her feminine belly swollen with child – with my child.

Source, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I’ve never had such feelings for an omega before.

I keep going, dropping to my knees in front of her with a grunt. My face is level with her pelvis, and my eyes lock on the place where her legs come together, the little tuft of platinum curls and the delicate slit underneath. Her folds and inner thighs glisten with wetness.

“Boreg, wait!”

She tries to cover herself with her hands, but my inner beast is having none of it. With a hungry growl, I push her hands aside and bury my face between her legs. She yelps and jerks back, but I grip her butt and jam my face into her even more roughly, breathing in deeply, filling my lungs to capacity with her intoxicating aroma. I feel her tiny hands pushing against my head, and a second later, I feel my packmates’ stronger hands attempting to pull me off her too, but I refuse to budge. She just smells too damn good.

Source, I wouldn’t mind drowning in that scent.

My heart slams, and blood surges between my legs. There is a sound of ripping leather as the pouch of my loincloth bursts open and my cock leaps out, erect and pulsing. My knot swells, and streams of hot semen jet from my tip splattering on the stone floor. Some of it lands on Ophelia’s feet, and she cries out in shock.

I let go of her, and tumble backward gasping as my balls continue to empty themselves onto the ground. Heat surges into my face. I’m embarrassed that my pack brethren have seen me lose control like this, but I’m even more ashamed for not recognizing the true nature of Ophelia’s scent sooner.

I turn to Seraph. “That smell. Is it what I think it is?”

Seraph nods. “She is entering estrus.”

My heart thuds even harder at that word.

Estrus. Heat.