Omega has no Alpha. If there was a time in his life when he thought a human could ever hold true authority over him, it faded swiftly into a memory that he can no longer recall. The humans around him always punished -- were swift to do so -- and no one ever hesitated to put him back in the place he refused to accept. He never once felt true loyalty to anyone.
Until he met his mate.
She is not his Alpha, and he is not her Beta; nor is the reverse true. They have something else between them. It might be the most human thing about him, the way he feels for Blue: although there is a primal instinct that binds him to each other, a wild ferocity that would rise in him to her aid without a second thought, but neither of them are submissive to each other because they don't have to be. They're equals. And Omega never imagined that there existed such a thing.
Her rage and sorrow resonates through him, but there is nothing left to kill or maim, and the facility on Isla Sorna is a smoking ruin. Anything that he can do for her now, he learned from her when she did it for him, and God help him but that's what he's trying to do. Omega nuzzles her when she lifts her head, his hands flexing protectively against her body, and when she whispers those words to him -- words they don't say, that don't need to be said -- it makes his heart pound around the invisible knife in his chest.
In the jungle, she never heard him. But it's as true as it's ever been. Omega lets her mouth shape the words against his own, silent for a lingering moment. "I love you," he echoes her then, softly, for her ears only and no one else.
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Until he met his mate.
She is not his Alpha, and he is not her Beta; nor is the reverse true. They have something else between them. It might be the most human thing about him, the way he feels for Blue: although there is a primal instinct that binds him to each other, a wild ferocity that would rise in him to her aid without a second thought, but neither of them are submissive to each other because they don't have to be. They're equals. And Omega never imagined that there existed such a thing.
Her rage and sorrow resonates through him, but there is nothing left to kill or maim, and the facility on Isla Sorna is a smoking ruin. Anything that he can do for her now, he learned from her when she did it for him, and God help him but that's what he's trying to do. Omega nuzzles her when she lifts her head, his hands flexing protectively against her body, and when she whispers those words to him -- words they don't say, that don't need to be said -- it makes his heart pound around the invisible knife in his chest.
In the jungle, she never heard him. But it's as true as it's ever been. Omega lets her mouth shape the words against his own, silent for a lingering moment. "I love you," he echoes her then, softly, for her ears only and no one else.