The Wolfless Omega

The slap came before Luna Vale had time to lower her eyes. 

Her head snapped sideways.

Pain exploded across her cheek, sharp enough to make her ears ring. She stumbled into the kitchen counter, catching herself against the worn wood before she fell.

She didn't cry out.

She had learned years ago that crying only made things worse.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Luna swallowed.

Slowly, she turned her face back towards her father.

Gareth Vale stood only a few feet away, his expression twisted with the familiar disgust she had known for as long as she could remember.

At nineteen, Luna knew every version of that expression.

The narrowed eyes meant silence.

The clenched jaw meant run—if there was somewhere to run.

And the slight curl of his upper lip meant he was deciding whether she had suffered enough.

Usually, she hadn't.

"I'm sorry," Luna whispered.

His nostrils flared.

"Sorry."

The word came out like an insult.

"You're always sorry."

Luna lowered her gaze.

Wrong choice.

A hand closed around her chin and jerked her head upwards.

"I said look at me."

Her heart hammered.

"Yes, Father."

Gareth stared into her eyes for several seconds before releasing her with a shove.

Luna stepped backwards.

Her hip struck the counter.

She ignored the pain.

There were already enough bruises beneath her clothes that one more hardly mattered.

"You embarrassed me again."

Luna frowned before she could stop herself.

"I—I don't understand."

His expression darkened.

"You don't understand?"

"No, Father."

"The training grounds."

Her stomach dropped.

Of course.

She should have known.

"I wasn't trying to—"

"Nobody asked what you were trying to do."

Luna immediately fell silent.

Gareth paced across the kitchen.

"Do you know what Thomas Reed asked me this morning?"

She shook her head.

"He asked whether you had shifted yet."

Luna's chest tightened.

There it was.

The question she hated more than any other.

Gareth laughed bitterly.

"My nineteen-year-old daughter. Nineteen. And I still have to tell people she hasn't managed something children can do."

Luna stared at the floor.

Something inside her chest hurt far worse than her cheek.

"I've tried."

"You've tried?"

His voice rose.

"I've tried, Father."

"Then try harder!"

Luna flinched.

Gareth saw it.

His eyes hardened.

"Pathetic."

That single word shouldn't have hurt anymore.

She had heard it thousands of times.

Pathetic.

Weak.

Useless.

Omega.

Wolfless.

Yet somehow, every time her father said it, a small part of her still remembered being six years old and waiting beside the front window for him to come home.

She had loved him then.

She couldn't remember why.

"Perhaps there is nothing inside you," he continued. "Have you considered that?"

Every day.

Every single day.

Luna pressed her lips together.

"Yes."

"Speak properly."

"Yes, Father."

"Good. At least you're capable of understanding one thing."

Footsteps sounded in the hallway.

Luna's body stiffened automatically.

Her mother entered the kitchen.

Elena Vale looked first at Gareth.

Then at Luna.

Her gaze stopped briefly on the red mark spreading across her daughter's cheek.

Luna hated herself for the tiny spark of hope that still appeared.

Maybe today.

Maybe this time her mother would say something.

Elena sighed.

"What did she do now?"

The hope disappeared.

Gareth scoffed. "What does she ever do?"

"I told you not to upset your father before tonight," Elena said, turning towards Luna.

"I didn't mean—"

"Enough."

Luna closed her mouth.

Elena walked to the cupboard and pulled out a glass.

"The Alpha's residence needs extra Omegas tonight. You're going."

Luna blinked.

"Tonight?"

Her mother gave her an irritated look.

"Did I stutter?"

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, Mother."

"Then stop standing there."

Luna hesitated.

She knew she shouldn't ask.

But she had been working since before sunrise, first in the pack kitchens and then in the laundry rooms. Her shoulders ached, and she hadn't eaten since yesterday evening.

"What time do they need me?"

Elena's expression changed.

Luna immediately regretted the question.

"Why?"

"I was just wondering if I could eat something first."

Silence.

Gareth turned.

Luna's stomach clenched.

Her mother stared at her as though Luna had requested a banquet.

"Eat?"

Luna's fingers curled against her skirt.

"I haven't eaten today."

"And?"

"I thought—"

"That's your problem," Gareth snapped. "You should have finished your work sooner."

Luna nodded quickly.

"Yes, Father."

Elena glanced at the clock.

"You have twenty minutes. Clean yourself up. And cover that."

She gestured towards Luna's cheek.

Luna almost laughed.

Not because anything was funny.

Because her mother wanted her to hide the bruise her father had just given her.

"Yes, Mother."

"And Luna?"

She stopped at the doorway.

"Yes?"

"Do not embarrass us tonight."

Luna looked at her mother.

For one foolish second, she wanted to ask how.

How could a girl nobody noticed embarrass anyone?

Instead she whispered, "I won't."

She climbed the stairs.

Only when her bedroom door closed behind her did Luna allow her shoulders to sag.

Her room was barely large enough for the narrow bed pushed against one wall and the battered chest of drawers beside it.

There was no lock.

Locks meant privacy.

Privacy was something Luna had never been allowed.

She sat on the edge of her bed.

Her hands trembled.

She tucked them beneath her thighs until they stopped.

"You're fine," she whispered.

The room didn't answer.

It never did.

Luna closed her eyes.

Sometimes she wondered what it would feel like to have a wolf answering inside her mind.

Everyone described it differently.

A second consciousness.

A companion.

A piece of your soul.

Someone who was always there.

Luna had none of that.

Only silence.

Her first shift should have happened years ago.

Thirteen became fourteen.

Fourteen became fifteen.

Then sixteen.

Every birthday brought another humiliating visit to the pack healer.

Every examination ended the same way.

We don't know.

At seventeen, her father stopped taking her.

At eighteen, people stopped asking kindly.

At nineteen...

She was simply the wolfless Omega.

Luna opened her eyes and looked towards the tiny mirror hanging above the dresser.

Dark brown hair fell past her shoulders in tangled waves. Her skin was pale from spending too much time indoors, and her grey eyes seemed too large in her thin face.

She touched her cheek.

Pain pulsed beneath her fingertips.

Twenty minutes.

She stood.

There was work to do.

There was always work to do.

By the time Luna reached the Alpha's residence, darkness had begun creeping through the forest.

The massive house stood near the centre of Silver Creek territory, surrounded by ancient pines and guarded paths.

Luna entered through the servants' door.

Nobody looked at her twice.

She preferred it that way.

"You're late."

Luna stopped.

Mara, the head Omega, stood beside a long preparation table with her arms crossed.

"I'm sorry."

"Three minutes."

"I'm sorry."

Mara rolled her eyes.

"Stop apologising and move. Alpha Conrad has important guests arriving tomorrow morning, and apparently half the pack has forgotten how to prepare a house."

Luna blinked.

"Guests?"

Mara shoved a stack of folded linen into her arms.

"Council business."

"Oh."

"Don't 'oh' me. West wing. Bedrooms first. Then downstairs."

Luna adjusted the heavy pile.

"Yes, Mara."

She turned.

"And Luna?"

Luna looked back.

Mara's expression softened slightly.

"Kitchen has stew left."

Luna stared at her.

"Eat before you leave."

The kindness was so unexpected that Luna didn't know what to say.

Mara frowned.

"Well?"

"Thank you."

"Go."

Luna hurried away before Mara could see the tears threatening her eyes.

Stupid.

It was a bowl of stew.

Nothing more.

But kindness was dangerous when you weren't accustomed to it.

It made you want things.

And wanting things always hurt.

Hours later, Luna stood alone in one of the guest bedrooms, pulling fresh sheets over an enormous mattress.

Her back screamed in protest.

She ignored it.

Rain had begun tapping against the windows.

The entire house was strangely restless tonight.

She could hear servants whispering in corridors.

Warriors had doubled the patrols.

Even Alpha Conrad had spent most of the evening barking orders.

Luna didn't understand why.

Important wolves visited Silver Creek occasionally.

Nobody behaved like this.

She tucked the final corner beneath the mattress.

Voices drifted through the open doorway.

"...confirmed it an hour ago."

Luna recognised two warriors speaking in the corridor.

"They're really coming?"

"At dawn."

"Shit."

"Keep your voice down."

Luna froze.

"Why would he come personally?"

"No idea. Conrad's been losing his mind since the message arrived."

"Can't blame him."

A pause.

Then the second warrior spoke more quietly.

"I heard he killed an Alpha with his bare hands."

"That's bullshit."

"Tell him that."

"Not interested."

They laughed nervously.

Luna continued smoothing the sheets, pretending she wasn't listening.

"How many warriors?"

"At least twenty."

"Twenty?"

"That's what I heard."

Another pause.

Then—

"Alpha Darius Blake doesn't travel unprotected."

Luna's hand stopped.

The name meant nothing to her.

But something happened.

A strange warmth flickered beneath her ribs.

Luna frowned.

She pressed a hand against her stomach.

Gone.

Probably hunger.

She hadn't eaten yet.

"You've never seen Blake, have you?" one warrior asked.

"No."

"I have."

"And?"

Silence.

When the answer came, the man's voice had lost its humour.

"You'll understand tomorrow."

Their footsteps disappeared down the corridor.

Luna remained beside the bed.

Darius Blake.

She didn't know why she repeated the name inside her head.

There was something about it.

Something...

No.

Luna shook herself.

She was tired.

That was all.

She picked up the empty linen basket.

Thunder rolled outside.

Then something strange happened.

Luna stopped breathing.

For the briefest moment, she felt...

Warmth.

Not around her.

Inside her.

It spread through her chest like the faint touch of sunlight after a lifetime of winter.

Her fingers tightened around the basket.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Luna looked around the empty room.

Nothing.

She almost laughed at herself.

Who was she expecting to see?

She turned towards the door.

Then pain ripped through her chest.

The basket crashed to the floor.

Luna gasped and grabbed the bedpost.

Her knees nearly buckled.

Heat.

Blinding, impossible heat surged beneath her skin.

"What—"

And then it vanished.

Completely.

Luna stood trembling.

Her heart thundered.

She waited.

Nothing happened.

Eventually, she bent down and picked up the basket.

"You're exhausted," she whispered.

That had to be it.

She left the room.

Behind her, moonlight slipped between the storm clouds and poured through the window.

For one heartbeat, the silver light touched the place where Luna had been standing.

And somewhere impossibly deep inside her—

something that had slept for nineteen years

opened its eyes.

Hundreds of miles away, a black wolf suddenly surged to his feet.

Darius Blake's eyes snapped open.

His hand tightened around the arm of his chair.

Across the room, his Beta stopped speaking.

"Alpha?"

Darius didn't answer.

His pulse had changed.

His wolf was pacing violently beneath his skin.

What is it?

The enormous beast growled.

Then Darius felt it.

Barely there.

A thread.

Warm.

Distant.

Impossible.

His wolf slammed against him with enough force to make Darius's eyes flash.

One word thundered through his mind.

Mate.

Darius went completely still.

For twenty-seven years, there had been nothing.

Now—

something.

Someone.

His Beta stared at him.

"Darius?"

Darius slowly turned his head towards the dark window.

Towards Silver Creek territory.

His wolf growled again.

This time, Darius understood.

She was there.

His mate.

After all these years...

she was there.