Omega Mine

The roaring of the crowd was no match for Seven’s own roar of victory as he snapped his opponent’s neck, breathing heavily from the adrenaline surging in his veins. Nothing existed for him outside of this arena. Nothing except for the thrill of ending a life, of seeing the light fade from the other male’s eyes as they flickered once before dimming forever.

He was the master of his own fate here.

The cage containing him thrummed with electricity, the steady hum spurring him on. Seven inhaled, his nostrils flaring as he severed the head from the body in one brutal yank. There were gasps of horror and shouts of delight from the crowd as tendons snapped, blood spraying in a fountain until Seven’s arms and chest were covered in red warmth.

When he was finished with his task, Seven released the body, holding the severed head high above his own. He let out a guttural roar that silenced the crowd, and he ate that silence up, using it to fuel him.

Before he could roar his triumph again, he caught sight of several human guards through the bars as they approached his side of the cage, holding tasers that would take him to the ground after a few well placed strikes. Not wanting to part with his kill so soon, Seven spun to face them, crouching near the dead body and growling in warning.

The crowd went almost as feral as he did, jumping up and down as they cheered his name. The arena shook, vibrating with their ferocity. The guards spat obscenities in his direction, though it was the guard that had fetched him from his cell, Jameson, that drew his attention.

He was speaking into a walkie talkie, turned slightly toward the giant window high above the arena that housed the city commander. Seven had never met the male, but he smelled of depravity and cigar smoke, something he could never quite be rid of.

He eavesdropped as much as he was able, but Seven couldn’t hear the conversation between the guard and whoever was on the other end. He could easily scent the guard’s excitement as he turned toward him, clipping his walkie talkie back onto his belt.

“Seven, it’s time to go.”

He snarled in answer, refusing to relinquish his prize. He wasn’t ready to part with his kill yet.

The guard shook his head, murmuring for the others to lower their weapons. “Seven,” he began again when the guards did as he instructed. “I can guarantee you’ll have a far better time back in your cell than you will getting plugged full of fifty-thousand volts of electricity. The Commander is sending you a gift,” he added when Seven didn’t move.

A gift? He never received anything other than food twice a day and buckets of water to clean himself with. A gift was unheard of.

“What is it?” he asked gruffly, his voice hard and gravelly from disuse.

“You’ll find out.”

Curious, Seven tilted his head to the side. “Why?” It was only one word, but the implication was clear in his voice. Why was he being given anything other than a beating? What had he done to deserve anything?

Jameson shrugged indifferently, but Seven noticed an odd gleam in his eyes, one that perfectly mirrored the excitement he’d scented only moments ago. “Someone displeased the Commander and he thinks you’ll be a fitting punishment for their behavior.”

Unceremoniously, Seven stood to his full height, dropping the severed head next to the body. He’d love nothing more than to continue his rampage on someone else, ready and eager to tear apart another hapless opponent.

The guards backed up, giving him plenty of space. There was a buzzing at the door to the cage, and the electric field around the bars enclosing him shut off, the small thrum of power going silent. Jameson opened the door, stepping back to allow him through.

Once he was out in the open of the arena, the crowd went nuts again, cheering him on. Some even shouted for him to turn on the guards that now surrounded him, leading him back to the tunnels where he resided. He ignored the calls from the crowd encouraging mayhem, knowing better than to bite the hand that fed him.

“You think anyone will ever beat you?” a guard on his right asked Seven.

“He better hope not,” another said before the guards all laughed, unconcerned that he could slaughter them all within seconds if he was so inclined. The only reason he didn’t was that the satisfaction would be fleeting. He wouldn’t make it from the stadium without being gunned down and executed.

Besides, even if he could escape, where would he go? He had no desire to leave these walls behind, not anymore. A life of freedom held no sway for someone without hope or understanding of a different life than this.

Seven prowled through the tunnels that led from the middle of the arena and back toward his cell underground, energy thrumming through his body with each step. The closer he got to his cell, the more excited he became, wondering what kind of savagery he could inflict on his gift.

If the male was already waiting in his cell, did that mean he could have his fun for days on end? He wouldn’t be required to adhere to the minimal rules of the arena, which left an endless amount of options for him.

When they reached a heavy metal door guarded by more humans that would take him toward the cells that contained him and those like him, Seven felt an odd stirring in his gut, anticipation making him antsy.

“Open the doors for Seven,” Jameson instructed.

The guards blocking the door followed his command, moving out of the way and allowing the small entourage to pass through. The smells beginning to filter around Seven calmed him slightly, the scents of others like him soothing a bit of the rage that generally kept him on edge, especially after a fight.

There was a bathroom and cleaning station down a narrow hallway to his right, but he was too distracted and curious to go and rinse himself off, and aside from that, he didn’t care about the blood staining his hands and chest. The sight of it would likely make his prey even more fearful and Seven looked forward to the stench of terror filling his cell.

They passed several hallways on the way to the one that housed Seven’s cell. As he’d been here the longest, he was in one of the first cells constructed, and in the furthest location from the main hall.

“Leave us,” Jameson told the other guards as they approached Seven’s cell, the last one out of dozens in this hallway. Some of the rooms were empty. Grunts came from several others that were occupied, either males jerking themselves off or working out. It all sounded the same in the end.

Once it was just Jameson and Seven in the hall, the male turned toward him, pausing before he opened the cell. “I’ll warn you only once,” he said quietly, looking over Seven’s shoulder to ensure they were truly alone. “What you’re going to find beyond this door requires care. Not brutality.”

Suddenly, Seven was irritated and completely ready to rip apart whatever was waiting for him. He’d end his play session within seconds instead of stretching it out for days, if only to spite the human male.

There was a brief, muffled noise that came from inside of his cell, and that same anticipation clawed at his gut, demanding he discover the source, that he elicit more noises from the weak male on the other side of the door.

“Let me through.”

“Are you listening to me?” Jameson reached up, snapping his fingers in his face.

Seven snatched the male’s wrist, squeezing harshly until he felt the bones creak together. Jameson let out a hoarse groan, eyes widening in fear as Seven looked down at the shorter, lesser male.

“Do that again and I’ll pluck out your eyes and feed them to you.” He released his hold before he did as he’d promised, instead nodding at his door. “Unlock it.”

He wanted to go inside to his gift. Now.

Sighing, Jameson fished out a pair of thick metal keys on a midsized key-ring, unlocking Seven’s cell door.

The light from the hall filled the small room, showing his cot, toilet, and a large bucket of water. But no person.

Seven stepped into his cell as Jameson shut the door, his vision adjusting to allow him to see in the darkness. There was a small whimper as the light cut out and he turned toward it, eyes narrowing on the small human huddled in a corner.

He paused, tension filling every line of his body as he took that light, airy scent into his lungs. It was faint, almost as if it was fading, but it was distinctly feminine.

His gift was a human female?

Seven tilted his head, studying her intently.

Her arms were dangling high above her head, tanned wrists caught in chains that were sticking from the wall. They’d once been used to contain him for beatings before he’d grown into an adult. Now, it seemed it was being used to keep the female trapped and at his mercy.

Her head was hanging low, face was hidden by long sheets of dark brown hair, her body equally obscured by heavy garments that practically swallowed her figure. He stilled, unsure of why he was suddenly hesitant to approach her with the same ferocity he’d intended.

Male or female, it shouldn’t matter to him in the slightest. A kill was a kill.

And yet, he felt no desire to harm her, his rage cooling the longer he was in her presence. He took her scent into his lungs again, expecting to smell something other than a light, subtle scent. When he didn’t, he became incomprehensibly agitated.

Why did he know it was off?

Seven snarled at his own uncertainty, stalking toward her. She inhaled as he approached, stiffening the closer he came.

Before he could reach her, her head snapped up, hair falling away from her face. She looked up at him, green eyes meeting his as the room seemed to close in on him, his heart pounding in his ears.

“It’s you,” the female whispered, in equal parts awe and fear.