Unhinged Omega: A Dark Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance (Ghost Alpha Unit Book 4)

I jolt awake in darkness, still flooded with adrenaline from the grip of the nightmare I just escaped. My hand immediately flies to my neck. It was so real and recent, I’m surprised there’s not a gaping wound torn in my flesh. The dream clings to me like cobwebs, but this time, the monster’s face doesn’t fade with consciousness.

Because he’s real.

I saw him.

Those haunting blue eyes, that iron mask, those lethal claws reaching for me…

I blink, trying to orient myself. I’m in a massive bed, buried under a pile of blankets, and something else. A coat. Blood red and impossibly soft. I inhale without thinking and that scent hits me.

Blood on steel.

Nikolai.

So different from Azarel’s golden sunlight.

But they’re alike in one regard. Neither alpha’s scent makes me want to vomit like every other alpha’s does.

The first time I encountered him, it could have been a fluke, but now… it feels like betrayal somehow.

Even if Azarel isn’t here.

Even if, for all I know, he’s abandoned me.

It’s what I should believe. What the logical part of me is trying to drill into my head to keep me from plummeting into the depths of disappointment once again. But my heart won’t let me accept that ugly possibility. That he worked his way through my defenses and awakened a part of me I thought was long dead only to end up being like every other alpha in my life.

A fucking traitor.

Looking around, I realize I’m in some kind of circular room. Floor-to-ceiling windows surround me, revealing the dark expanse of what looks like an airfield below. Blinking lights mark the perimeter, casting an eerie glow.

Is that where I was earlier?

Everything after the sun hit my eyes is a blur.

Against my better judgment, I pull the red coat closer, breathing in that dangerous scent. It shouldn’t be comforting. It shouldn’t calm my racing heart or chase away the lingering terror of my nightmare.

But it does.

‘If you like my scent so much, you could’ve just said so.’

I jolt at that infuriating voice, catching the glint of red-tinted lenses in the darkness. Nikolai emerges from the shadows like a wolf creeping out of a den, all lean muscle in his tight black shirt. His nose is definitely broken, dried blood crusted beneath it, and scratches mar his already marred face. I can’t really remember, but I think I’m the one who put them there.

Good.

‘I hate your scent,’ I snap, dropping the coat like it’s burned me. ‘I was using it like smelling salts to wake up properly.’

He scoffs, moving closer. ‘Oh yeah? And what do I smell like, little psycho?’

I bristle at the nickname. ‘Like piss and ass.’

It’s a bald-faced lie. He smells fucking incredible.

But the smugness drops from his face, and even in the dim light from the airfield, I can tell he’s furious from the vein popping out in his temple. ‘Whatever you need to tell yourself,’ he says with a knowing smirk that makes me want to break his nose again.

What does he mean by that?

The cryptic remark makes me uneasy.

Vulnerable in a way I don’t like.

‘Why do you wear those stupid glasses indoors?’ I demand, trying to regain some control over the situation the only way I can.

His smirk falters slightly. ‘Glad to see you’re back to being a prickly psycho instead of a frigid doll. I was starting to worry seeing that thing had somehow lobotomized you.’

I freeze, ice flooding my veins.

Back?

I must have had another episode. They’re happening more often than usual. But I guess that’s to be expected, considering I’ve been off the pills for… how long now?

Shit. I’m starting to lose track during my lucid times, too.

But I’ve got bigger concerns now than my own fucked up brain. Like the fact that my captor has been keeping the demon from my nightmares in a pit.

I don’t remember much before I blacked out, but I caught a glimpse of the shock on Nikolai’s face before he pulled me back from the edge.

Enough to know he didn’t plan this.

I think I’d almost prefer that, considering the alternative is that fate brought us together.

‘The monster,’ I begin slowly, watching his face for any reaction. ‘How do you have it?’

Nikolai tilts his head, folding his arms across his broad chest as he studies me through those ridiculous red lenses. ‘You’re not really in a position to be asking questions here,’ he says smoothly. ‘I think the real question is how do you know it?’

I grit my teeth, refusing to answer. When he moves closer, I flinch back against the headboard instinctively, pressing myself as far away as I can get.

To my surprise, he stops.

‘Relax,’ he mutters, raking a hand through his choppy white hair. ‘I didn’t touch you while you were out, and I’m not planning on it now. I may be many wicked things, but I’m not that kind of monster.’

I hesitate, considering his words. I don’t feel any evidence of violation. Something deeper, more instinctive, tells me he’s speaking the truth. Something the logical part of my brain refuses to indulge.

He’s an alpha.

They’re all the same.noveldrama

All but one.

‘No,’ I say bitterly, ‘you just sell omegas into slavery to other alphas who will, and then you pocket the proceeds.’

He scoffs, the sound harsh in the quiet room. ‘You have a lot of assumptions about me for a spoiled princess. For the record, I’m not selling you to anyone. You’re here because the Ghosts needed an impartial middleman to hold you until your daddy sends someone to pick you up.’

‘You? Impartial?’ I can’t help the derisive laugh that escapes me as I look pointedly around the room. ‘You have a fucking lair. I don’t even know what you are. Warlord? Mercenary? Mafia?’

‘Right on all three counts, little psycho,’ he says, dragging over a chair and dropping into it backward. He leans on the metal back, watching me. ‘Trust me, you’re better off with a few dirty outlaws than any rat who managed to survive the fall of Reinmich. But I expect you’ll figure that out soon enough.’

‘I know exactly what those rats are capable of,’ I hiss. ‘Far better than you ever could.’

I expect Nikolai to argue, to tell me I don’t know anything about the world outside my gilded cage. But instead, he goes silent, and I find myself unsettled that I can’t read his expression behind those red-tinted lenses. The silence stretches between us like a taut string until he finally breaks it by speaking.

‘Maybe you do.’

His quiet acceptance makes me more uncomfortable than any argument would have. I press on, desperate to change the subject. ‘How did you manage to get the monster into that pit?’

A slight smile curves his lips. ‘I’ll make you a deal,’ he says, leaning forward on the chair. ‘You answer my question, I’ll answer yours.’

I clench my jaw in annoyance, but I know I don’t have much choice here. ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

‘Try me,’ he says with a shrug. ‘I’m a surprisingly open-minded man.’

I sigh, pulling my knees up to my chest, his coat still draped over me. I tell myself it’s only for modesty’s sake, and not because of his scent. The man himself is a nuisance, but his scent… it grounds me for reasons I don’t want to even entertain right now.

The memory of the monster’s haunting blue eyes makes me shiver despite the blankets surrounding me. ‘I’ve had visions for as long as I can remember. Dreams of it stalking me. Hunting me.’ I wrap my arms around myself tightly. ‘Devouring me.’

I wait for him to tell me I’m crazy, just like my father did. That’s how I ended up on the pills in the first place. Azarel says it in kinder words, but I can tell from the look in his eyes whenever I speak about it that he thinks the same. It doesn’t matter, though. Whenever I fall asleep in Azarel’s arms, it’s the only time I sleep without dreaming.

But Nikolai just listens quietly, his head tilted slightly as if he’s considering my words. ‘How do you know it’s the same monster from your dreams?’ he finally asks.

I let out a harsh laugh. ‘Are you kidding? It’s not like he has a common look.’

Nikolai chuckles at that, the sound surprisingly warm. ‘No,’ he agrees, ‘I suppose not.’ He shifts in his chair, leaning closer. ‘Do you know what it is?’

I hesitate, my fingers playing with the edge of one of the blankets. ‘No,’ I admit. ‘But it’s your turn to answer my question. How did you capture it?’

He nods, accepting the deflection. ‘My men and I ran into it—literally—on our way to Surhiira. It was walking like it had a mission.’ He pauses, studying me so intently through those red lenses that I feel exposed. ‘Maybe it did.’

Terror churns in my stomach at his words. The thought that my nightmares might have been more than just dreams like everyone—even Azarel—insists, that the monster was actually searching for me all this time…

I knew he was real.

But having it confirmed is something else.

It should terrify me, and it does.

But a part of me is… relieved?

Because I’m not crazy. At least, not because of this.

‘It took out more than two dozen of my men before we managed to subdue it,’ Nikolai continues. ‘Had to wrap it in chains and drag it here.’

‘And now you’re keeping it in a pit,’ I finish for him, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘Why?’

‘Ah,’ he says, wagging a finger. ‘That’s another question. You’ll have to earn that answer.’

I glare at him. ‘I already told you about my dreams.’

‘And I told you how we caught it,’ he counters. ‘One truth for one truth. That’s the deal.’

I want to argue, but exhaustion is starting to creep in again. The familiar fog that comes after one of my episodes makes my thoughts feel sluggish and disconnected. ‘Fine,’ I mutter, sinking back against the pillows. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Back there, after I pulled you back from the ledge—you’re welcome, by the way,’ he says pointedly, ‘You said something about giving you back. Were you talking about the Knight?’

‘The Knight?’ I echo, frowning. ‘You named it?’

‘No, that’s just what it’s called,’ he says flatly. ‘Answer the question.’

I sigh. ‘I don’t know what I was talking about, okay? I’ve been kidnapped, kept in a cramped, dark, tacky, smelly room, and then I almost fell into a pit with the machine-man hybrid who’s been chasing me in my dreams my whole life. I could have been talking about the fucking solstice goose, for all I know.’

He snorts at that, clearly getting my reference to the old Vrissian folk tale. About time someone did.

‘Fair enough.’ He pauses, growing serious once more. I think I like it better when he’s just an asshole. ‘You have those episodes often?’

I bristle at the reminder. It’s a subject my family, even my mother, has always been content—no, determined—to ignore. Like it’ll just go away if we never talk about it.

And for a while, it did.

At least for them.

I just learned to hide it better.

To say I needed to go to my room because I didn’t feel well, or dismiss the post-fugue haze as the consequences of a bad night’s sleep.

But that’s the thing about embarrassing secrets. They never stay buried forever. Eventually, they catch up with you.

They’re a lot like monsters that way.

‘Why do you even care?’ I ask, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. ‘You’re just the middleman, aren’t you? Either my father will come for me, or you’ll sell me to the highest bidder. What difference does it make to you?’

He goes rigid, his shoulders tensing. Wish I could see his eyes behind those red lenses. He’s an extra dick for not taking them off when he’s talking to me.

‘I don’t,’ he snaps, but there’s an edge to his voice. He stalks toward the elevator, his movements sharp and agitated. ‘And the sooner they come to pick you up, the better. I’ve got enough problems without adding Arthur Maybrecht’s spoiled brat to the list.’

I stumble out of bed to try to follow him on unsteady legs, my muscles protesting after another extended period of disuse. ‘You can’t just leave me in your fucking evil villain lair!’

‘I can, actually,’ he says, hitting the button for the elevator. The doors slide open with a soft ding that feels like mockery. ‘And if you keep complaining, I’ll be more than happy to put you back in the basement.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ I hiss, but he’s already stepping into the elevator.

The last thing I see is his glaring face as the doors close between us. I grab the nearest object—a bottle of expensive-looking liquor he was probably saving for some special occasion—and hurl it at the elevator doors as they touch. It shatters spectacularly, amber liquid running down the metal like tears.

I rush to the elevator and jam my fingers into the call button, but nothing happens. The bastard must have a key or some override.

‘Damn it!’ I slam my palm against the doors in frustration.

Defeated, I drag myself back to the massive bed with one foot still asleep and flop back onto the mattress, immediately regretting it when his scent washes over me. It’s everywhere—in the coat, in the blankets, in the very air I breathe. And worst of all, it’s soothing when I want to stay angry.

I grab his coat, fully intending to shred it to pieces. My nails tear into the expensive fabric with savage satisfaction, but then something strange happens. Instead of continuing to destroy it, I find myself carefully arranging the torn pieces among the other blankets and clothes.

I catch myself halfway through making what can only be described as a nest and freeze as realization dawns.

‘Oh, fuck,’ I whisper into the empty room.

I’m nesting.

The pills my father insisted I take—the ones that supposedly help with my ‘episodes’—they had another purpose. One that Monty always found convenient, unless he was having one of his parties.

They kept me from going into heat.

And I haven’t had a dose in over a week, give or take.

I push away from the bed, from the half-formed nest, my heart racing. This can’t be happening. Not here. Not now. Especially not this close to the monster from my nightmares.

The Knight.

That name feels like a cruel kind of irony, but I’m not sure if the joke is on me or him.

Maybe both.