Soulmates, perhaps?

(5).

When Alpha meets Omega

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Chapter 5: soulmates, perhaps? 

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Carlos blinks out of the stupor. “W-what, no, I’m not—”

“Get. Out. Omega ,” the silver alpha snarls, voice raspy from disuse. It sends shivers up Carlos’s spine.

Carlos’s never been referred to in a degrading tone before. The pack doesn’t speak like that to one another, so when the alpha downgrades him just for his status, his brows pinch and his jaw tenses.

“ N-no, I’m not leaving,” he stands his ground, but the alpha’s cold stare is convincing the wolf inside him otherwise. “You don’t get to tell me when to go when I saved your ass!”

“You’ll do as I say ,” the alpha snaps back, pulling the blanket even tighter around himself. There’s an angry red scar running from his shoulder blade down his back, the same wound Carlos had helped heal when he was a wolf.

“You’re not my alpha,” Carlos grits his teeth in defiance. Inside, he knows he’s pushing this too far, but a part of him refuses to back down because he saved this wolf’s life and this is what he’s getting in return.

The alpha won’t meet his eyes, almost like he’s afraid to do it. “This can’t be happening. . .” he mumbles almost too low for Carlos to hear it, shaking his head so that his fringe falls into his eyes.

Carlos swallows thickly in the silence. He needs to inform Erik, because if he waits any longer, Erik is going to be unhappy with him a second time for stalling and not telling him right away.

With a loud huff, the omega storms out of the infirmary with the assurance that the wolf won’t go anywhere, and he veers towards Erik and Jorge’s cabin. He knocks on the door, more like pounds on it for a good second, before the alpha is throwing it open with Jorge right on his heels.

“He’s shifted and he’s an asshole.”

“What?” Jorge questions, but Erik is already slipping into his shoes and bursting out the door, a stumbling Jorge trailing behind with Carlos at his side.

The alpha walks briskly, sight set on the infirmary, but he stops short when Carlos cries out and doubles over behind them.

Immediately Jorge catches the smaller omega around the waist, eyes wide with alarm. “Carlos, what’s wrong?”

All Carlos can do is press his palms over his hipbone, where it feels like someone has taken a heated knife and stabbed him. He can’t even speak, whimpering softly as his legs buckle. Jorge holds him up until the pain subsides, leaving a dull pulsing ache behind and a dull emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

“Carlos, I need you to tell me what’s wrong,” Jorge’s voice is strained, worried.

The omega grimaces, teeth grinding. The pain simmers enough for him to stand again, though the burn is still there. His fingers scramble to lift part of his sweater up where the throb is and he peers down at what seems to be a tiny crescent shaped mark that was not there before.

“I-it’s hot,” Carlos whimpers, but that’s unfortunately not his only problem.

Jorge bends down to see more clearly what Carlos’s talking about and Erik comes closer only to stiffen when he sees the tiny mark.

“E-Erik,” comes Jorge’s small, uneasy voice.

“Take him back to the omega cave.” Erik’s voice doesn’t leave any room for argument but Jorge doesn’t seem to care.

“Erik, that won’t help anyone. They need to be close. . . the bond— It will just hurt them both if you keep them apart.”

A snarl of frustration escapes the alpha’s mouth. “Maybe it isn’t—”

“Bullshit,” Jorge snaps back. “You know exactly what this is.”

Carlos is lost, eyes flashing between the two in confusion. He doesn’t understand, wants to know what the fuck is happening, but they’re not going to give him an answer now.

Jorge is already taking Carlos by the arm and dragging him towards the infirmary, towards the wolf that makes Carlos’s stomach flip and twist and hurt . Erik is growling, practically almost breaks down the door ahead of the two omegas.

The silver-haired alpha is still inside, standing now but obviously favoring his left leg over his right. Most of the drawer in the infirmary are open like he’s tried rummaging through them. The blanket from before is knotted firmly around his waist to preserve some semblance of decency. When he inhales Erik’s scent, the smell of another alpha, he bares his teeth and growls, pupils blown out and his eyes amber.

Erik’s lips curl back but Jorge doesn’t reach out to calm him.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Even though Erik is taller, a more imposing presence, the other alpha squares his shoulders in a challenging stance. “Could ask you the same fuckin’ question,” he snaps back, eyes flickering over to Carlos once. His nostrils flare.

Carlos averts his gaze, the mark over his hip beginning to burn again.

“I’m the leader of this pack, the Moonvalley pack,” Erik barks, “and you’d better fucking explain yourself for degrading one of my omegas and showing up in our territory.”

“Moonvalley pack. . .” the smaller alpha muses more to himself than anything. “Then you must be the great Erik, and from the smell of it—” He says sarcastically and his eyes rake over Jorge, who stands protectively in front of Carlos. “—this must be your mate, your soulmate .” He spits the word like it’s dirty.

Jorge’s lips tighten into a frown as he squeezes Carlos’s arm. “Do you have a problem with that?” he questions, his upfrontness making the smaller alpha wrinkle his nose. “Answer the question.”

“My name is Ricardo,” he finally grits out, obviously not pleased with being spoken to with such blatant disrespect by an omega. “I. . . I’m from the White Peaks.”

It all makes sense now, this Ricardo’s behavior. Everyone has heard the stories of how they treat their omegas, not as equals, but as something beneath them.

They’re a vicious pack with a clear cut hierarchy, enforced by fights that sometimes end in death. It’s obvious that Ricardo has been a part of many other fights: old white scars and fresher pink scars criss cross various places on his pale human skin.

Erik rolls his shoulders and exhales. “Were you the one they banished during the revolt up there?”

They had heard news of one such revolt in the mountains, just whispers in the wind that one of the alphas had been betrayed by members of his own pack. Of course there was nothing to corroborate any of these rumors, but now, they might just have the person in the center of this mess.

Ricardo can’t seem to take his eyes away from Carlos, eyes blinking rapidly like he’s trying to clear his head. “Can you. . . can you get that fuckin’ omega out of here?” he growls.

Erik fixes his eyes on Carlos, who bristles at the “omega” reference. Jorge is defensive, holding on to Carlos, icy eyes staring down Ricardo as if to say, “ Make me.”

Carlos doesn’t want to interrupt the conversation but he does anyways. “It's Carlos. I dare you to call me omegaone more time-”

Jorge clears his throat but Erik ignores it because Carlos’s frustration is reasonable.

“No,” Erik rumbles his answer, turning back to face Ricardo. “But I’d like you to show me where your mark is.”

They stand off for a long moment and Ricardo’s back is as stiff as a board.

Finally, with jerky movements, he carefully parts the blanket to create a slit that opens up to the crease of his hip on the left side. The same crescent moon shape is raw and red against the almost white skin of his inner thigh.

Jorge inhales sharply, his grip tightening on Carlos’s upper arm.

Carlos shivers when he sees the mark and his eyes widen like a doe caught in the middle of a hunt.

“W-what. . . it’s— it’s the same as mine—”

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TBC