Omegaverse Terms Novels & Stories

Caroline's POV In a world where everything natural has something super underneath. There are witches who see your future when you let them. There are wolves who shift effortlessly even without the full moon. There are werewolf hunters who have nine lives… And there is me — I don't have anything ‘super’ in this supernatural world. “The mating ceremony would take place soon and since the alpha is just turning 18, I bet his mate would be one of us since we are royal bloods.” Sienna smiled sheepishly with two ladies walking beside her.

“Never tell anyone that you're Liam's mate!” Only that? “Simple instruction.” I answer, brushing it off. He watches me, probably waiting for a reaction, but too bad for him, he isn't getting any. I'm used to this kind of treatment anyway. After all, I'm an Omega, the lowest of the werewolf ranks ever! He gets off first and I follow after him and we both walk towards the backdoor as Trevor starts explaining to me all sorts of things.

I'd seen what omegas in the pack looked like so I could picture. Omega wolves were termed so not because they were born the packs' weakest, but because it simply took more time for them to grow into the strength level of those who were born gammas. Gammas were widely called the lowest strength level in the hierarchy of the packs as they were known to dominate young omegas only. An older and experienced born omega was equal to a gamma so they became seen and referred to as that.

I whisper back. “Rogues are deserted werewolves or in other words werewolves that don’t belong anywhere. You on the other hand…. You're not a rogue… you're worse. Your hair symbolizes the weakness that all omegas have. Every omega has such hair.” Dad explains whilst staring at Xavier waiting to see what will happen next. I look back at my sisters and Becca seems to be trying to tell Isaac something.

“Well, I guess we’re all dying then.” I couldn’t even be mad because he was right. How was I going to fight a goddess? “You think she can’t do it?” Aravelle asked. “I’m her mentor, I know she can’t do it.” “Well, you’re wrong. Lunara wouldn’t choose someone incapable of the situation.” “No offense, Aravelle, but Rohan is right. There’s a reason I’m ranked omega,” I said. Aravelle shook her head. “You’re not an omega, child.”

"Input the protocol bypass code: Alpha-Omega-Six-St-Agnes. Overwrite the internal data node, and clear the variance." My breath caught in my throat. St. Agnes. The name of the orphanage from her file. She was using her own untraceable, personal ghost-code to override a multi-million-dollar Swiss bank ledger, and she was doing it while clearly fighting a massive wave of nausea. Vaneau’s fingers practically flew across the digital keyboard, his face flushing a deep crimson as he entered the data. The red crisis bar on his tablet suddenly flickered, flashing a pristine, automated green.

And I would be nothing more than a vessel, a breeding tool for whoever was strong enough to claim me, and for whatever they could extract from my body. In the werewolfdom, male omegas were the most useless of all sub-genders. At least the female omegas could conceive, but my kind was literally just a filler, we're just…there. Weak, useless, no importance, and most especially, useless. Did I mention useless?

he reminded him. "It can be revived if I can get an omega" Haynes explained further. "Which you were unable to find after searching many communities of werewolves for years. Or are you planning to send me to the werewolves so that I could get bitten and become a 'floater' like you?" Sergeanti laughed hysterically. He had discovered his plans. Haynes was a very dubious dishonest and wicked wizard. "No, you don't need to go and search for any werewolves because an omega is lurking in Greenford right now" Haynes ascertained.

I said to the taxi driver who nodded and pull out. My name is Pearl Gem Valley. A name that, like the chill of the wind, cuts deep. I am an Omega, born into the Valley clan, a family whose name speaks volumes about our place in this world, always below. In the werewolf Empire, Omegas are marked by their clans, each one a harsh reminder of our worth. The Servan clan, a name that screams of servitude; The Bond clan, defined by chains and captivity, Bondage; The Lowe tribe, forever cast as the lowest of the low; The Noar clan, whose name speaks of having no rank at all. And then there's mine. The Valley clan. Always below.

It must be killing her to know that everything she's heard came from someone she's supposed to love unconditionally. "I don't know if this changes things, Mars. I probably shouldn't be the one telling you this, but they never made it out of the house. Micca's wolf is-" How do I explain this to her in a way that she can understand? "His wolf is an omega. Omegas are the weakest of us, but they're the most vicious when they align themselves with the right alpha. Add the Warhead and he becomes a machine. Nearly unstoppable. His instincts are wired to feed what he needs.