Omega Mine

Fury clawed at Seven’s gut as he took in Josephine’s bloodied face, his nails sharpening into claws that nearly pierced her skin until he released her wrist, worried that he might cause her additional harm. Although, looking at her now, he wasn’t sure how much more damage she could suffer through.

Her beautiful face was covered in cuts and bruises, her right eye was swollen shut and her lip was busted. Most of her face was discolored, turning a dull shade of bluish purple. Her hair was littered with drops of blood, particularly around her neck, where sections of hair were full of coagulated blood. Gently, he brought a knuckle to her eyebrow, wiping away a bit of blood that was on the verge of falling into her left eye.

“Grayson,” she whined, her voice filled with pain. “Everything hurts.”

His heart clenched as she whimpered, rolling slowly toward him as if she sought his protection. Every instinct inside of him rose to the surface, demanding he never leave her side, that he kill those responsible and bathe in their entrails until his lust for vengeance was sated.

Seven barely even noticed that she’d called him the name that he hated, doing his best to be gentle as he pulled her into his arms. Josephine gasped in pain as he stood, but he didn’t relinquish her until he was at his bed, laying her flat on her back.

She winced, grabbing at her stomach and he stilled, eyes narrowing. “They hit you there?”

“Not they,” she answered, slowly relaxing onto the bed with a pained sigh. “Commander Ortega.” Her lip split open further as she talked, eliciting another whine from her.

“Give it a minute,” he snapped, hating that he was being useless when she needed him. Always so fucking useless.

His eyes shot toward the basin full of water, moving toward it without another thought. He needed to clean and treat her injuries before it was too late. Weren’t humans prone to infections? Even the smallest wound could end up killing them if they weren’t careful.

Fuck.

He paused as he reached it, lips flattening into a frown. Cleaning her with dirty water was a terrible idea. She needed better treatment than what was in this cell. How could they treat one of their own so callously? He expected this level of abuse toward someone like him, but Josephine? They’d beaten a human woman bloody and then dropped her back in here like she wasn’t worth a damn.

Like she didn’t matter to them anymore than he did.

Filled with renewed fury, Seven stomped over to the door to his cell, pounding on it as he bellowed, “Fetch me some fucking water, Jameson! You think I can’t smell your stench as you hover in the hall?”

“I have orders to not intervene,” Jameson answered tightly, taking a hesitant step back from the door as Seven hit it harder, denting it again. It felt good, so he struck it once more before he responded.

“I’ll rip your fucking spine from your body the first chance I get if you don’t give me what I need to treat her. Now!” Seven growled, his voice echoing menacingly through the room.

He didn’t have to wait for Jameson to respond to know that the guard had heard him loud and clear. The guard’s heart began racing, and he stumbled backward, shoes scraping along the floor before taking off down the hall and disappearing from earshot a few seconds later.

“That was rude,” Josephine scolded quietly, swallowing thickly. “He’s only following orders.”

“Was he there when that human fuck hurt you?” Seven snapped, moving to her side. He crouched down onto the balls of his feet, his head near hers as he waited for her to answer.

“That’s not a fair question to ask.”

“Why not?”

“Because I think you’ll want to kill him if I say yes.”

“I want to kill every human I see,” he told her, brow furrowing as he realized that wasn’t true. Not any longer. “Except you. I don’t think I want to kill you.”

“What changed your mind?” she asked softly as he wiped another trickle of blood from her brow.

Seven wiped the blood onto his thigh. “I didn’t like that you weren’t here when I woke up.” Not that it meant he liked her, only that she was his gift. His responsibility. And he’d allowed her to be taken from him, and as soon as she’d left, she’d been injured.

Her lip trembled for a moment and she looked away from him, wincing again. “I was afraid of that.”

“What do you mean?”

“N–nothing,” she said quickly, jerking when there was a quick knock on the cell door.

“Back away from the door if you’re near it,” Jameson demanded, the sound of his keys jingling loudly in Seven’s ears. “I’ll use force to subdue you if I need to, and I’ll return the things I’ve brought you.”

“Fine,” he bit out, standing abruptly. His entire body felt as if it was vibrating as he watched the door slowly open, light trickling through the slit that formed. Several bundles were shoved across the floor, followed by five bottles of water that were tossed into the cell, the plastic crinkling as they landed and rolled across the concrete.

Jameson slammed the door closed again, locking it swiftly. “The bottles were the best I could do for you.”

“It’ll work,” Seven said gruffly, refusing to thank the bastard, Josephine’s words ringing in his ear. She was more than right–he was tempted to kill Jameson right now and he didn’t even have confirmation that the man had stood by and allowed another to harm her.

Commander Ortega did this, he silently growled. He’d never actually met the male, never saw a point in identifying him in the crowd when he fought in the arena. But now all he wanted was to make his acquaintance. He’d beat the man, delivering the exact same hits that littered Josephine’s body. And after that?

He’d see what Ortega’s insides looked like.

Bending down to collect the items, some of Seven’s rage cooled as he discovered towels, blankets, ointment, and a few painkillers that were kept inside of a small plastic bag. There were even several t-shirts, all smelling fresh.

Not questioning why he’d been given clothes, Seven dropped everything beside the bed, kneeling down to inspect Josephine once more.

“You’re covered in blood.”

She snorted, sending him a teasing look with her one good eye. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing in exasperation. “I’m going to take your clothing off. I need to see where else you’re damaged.”

Releasing a deep breath, she nodded, moving slightly to help him remove her shirt. She’d had a sweater on when he’d seen her last, but it must have been removed while she was gone. The thought of any of those males undressing her for any reason, even just one layer, had his vision returning to a reddish haze of fury, something he’d been struggling to keep at bay since she’d come back in here.

Josephine whimpered so lowly that he thought he might have imagined it if her posture didn’t become defensive, her head tilting to bare her neck. Her long brown hair was covering the majority of it, thick strands sticking to her skin where he’d bitten her last night and covering his mark.

Seven’s brow furrowed, wondering if that small wound had opened and bled, causing her hair to stick to it.

“Stop,” he grunted, knowing she was only causing herself more pain in order to placate him. She’d done it before when his rage had been too high, but he didn’t want her to do anything now but relax and let him tend to her. Keeping that in mind, Seven turned his own tumultuous feelings inward as he returned to slowly undressing her.

He didn’t react when he saw her without a shirt, her torso bared to him. Her ribs were covered in bruises, as was her lower belly, the faint outline of a boot print further marring her skin. Looking at it made his teeth grind together. His claws elongated and even his canines lengthened, but he willed them to return to normal, inspecting her upper body for any additional bleeding before his hands went for her jeans.

He paused, a new thought surfacing that made his blood run cold. He didn’t smell another male on her, not intimately, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t defiled her while she’d been abused.

“It’s okay,” Josephine said, placing her hands on his in reassurance. “He just hit me.”

Just. As if it wasn’t a big deal. And maybe it shouldn’t have been. Seven killed people every week. Dismembering them, torturing them before they died. He was a twisted male, and not once had he looked at bloodshed as anything other than normal. It was only now, that this woman was wounded at his feet that he found it appalling.

And only because it was her.

Shaking his head to clear his own confusing thoughts, Seven tugged her jeans and panties down her legs as gently as he was able, giving her a clinical once over before he pulled her shoes and socks off, removing her pants entirely after that.

Her legs looked fine, likely because her torso and face had taken the brunt of Ortega’s ire. It was almost as if he’d wanted to disfigure her.

Grabbing one of the water bottles and a clean towel, Seven removed the lid, tilting the bottle over slightly to dampen the cloth. “Why did he do this?”

Josie shrugged in answer, but one slightly unhinged look from him had her sighing. “He was upset that you didn’t hurt me.”

“So he beat you instead?” Water shot from the top of the plastic bottle as he gripped it hard.

“He wanted to teach you a lesson.”

Seven grunted, bringing the damp section of the towel to her face and tenderly wiping at the blood on her forehead. “How did he plan to do that by hurting you and not me?”

“He doesn’t like that you think you can do whatever you want with me, Grayson. That you kept me ‘pretty’, so he wanted to show you that I might be your gift, but he still controls everything here.”

Seven nodded stoically, too focused on tending to her swollen eye to do anything else. One wrong move and he might end up blinding her, so flying into a rage wasn’t the solution.

He would save that for when he was in the arena. When Ortega was in his office, watching from high above.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Josephine asked suddenly, her good eye narrowing.

“Like what?” he asked gruffly, pouring more water onto a clean portion of the towel before moving to her other eye and cleaning around it.

“Like you’ve just had some insane idea pop into your head.”

He shrugged, refusing to answer mostly because she was right. He did have an idea, one that would guarantee himself an audience with the Commander.

And once he had that chance, he’d be a fool not to take it and rip out the other male’s throat.

“Now you’re smiling,” she whispered, her voice taking on a panicked edge. “What has gotten into you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Grayson, I don’t think you’ll hurt me,” Josephine answered, her voice ringing with honesty. “Not anymore.”

“What changed your mind?” he parroted back to her, raising a brow as he moved on to her lips, careful to not cause it to split open again.

“I just–” she paused, gulping. “It would be a little silly to patch me up just to do it again,” she joked, earning a brutal glare from him. “Dark humor isn’t your thing? I figured you’d enjoy it.”

“I would enjoy it if what you said was funny, which it wasn’t.”

“Tough crowd,” she said haughtily, gasping in pain when he pushed down too hard on her lower lip.

Seven pulled his hands away quickly, almost as if she’d burned him with a small exhale of breath. “Fuck–”

“It’s fine.” Josephine grabbed his wrist, bringing the cloth back to her.

Once he was done cleaning the blood from her face, Seven grabbed a new towel, wetting that one as well. He brought the bottled water to her neck, holding it above the hair that was stuck there, sticky with drying blood. “I need to clean this,” he commented.

Josephine stiffened, her fear tainting the air and immediately putting him on edge.

He watched her tremble, unsure of what he’d said to cause her alarm. “What is it?”

“Don’t freak out,” she murmured, squeezing his wrist before releasing her hold. “Please, Grayson.”

Whatever calmness he’d attempted to exude while cleaning her was gone in an instant, his body coiling with tension as he took another look at her bloody hair. He should have realized sooner that it was far too much blood for the tiny bite he’d given her to have reopened.

What had Ortega done?

Dread filled him as he poured the water onto the side of her neck, pulling her hair away once it was completely wet and no longer glued to her wound.

If he thought he was furious before, it was nothing compared to the raw, deadly haze that filled his mind when he caught sight of a savage bite mark that had nearly shredded her delicate throat, erasing his claim completely.