Liberated Omega: Wolves of Mist Peak - Book 2

  Liberated Omega

  Wolves of Mist Peak - Book 2

  Aspen Grey

  Contents

  Scent of the Author

  Also by Aspen Grey

  1. Eric

  2. Brooks

  3. Eric

  4. Brooks

  5. Eric

  6. Brooks

  7. Eric

  8. Brooks

  9. Eric

  10. Brooks

  11. Eric

  Epilogue

  Scent of the Author

  Also by Aspen Grey

  Scent of the Author

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  Also by Aspen Grey

  Scarlet Mountain Pack Series

  Texas Heat Series

  Foxes of Scarlet Peak Series

  SoCal Cuties Series

  Off Limits Omega

  Chapter One

  Eric

  Sold…I thought as I lay miserably in bed and stared at my Sleepy Hills High graduation tassel that hung from the mirror over my desk.

  My father sold me. What an amazing birthday present.

  I turned eighteen tomorrow, June 8. Most kids got a car or a computer for their birthday, but not me! I got an alpha—an alpha that I didn’t choose, didn’t want, and couldn’t return if I wanted to. My son of a bitch father had sold me for 40,000 dollars. Can you believe that? Not even enough to live comfortably on for more than a couple of years max. His only son!

  Mark Duplass…that was his name. He was a trust fund baby that lived in a mansion just outside of town with who knew how many bedrooms. I never understood why rich people always gloated about how many bedrooms they had anyway. I mean—how many children were you really going to have? And if you didn’t want a huge family, did you really have enough friends who were coming to stay over that often? I’d rather have a nice cozy place with just enough room.

  I’d always been a dreamer, tearing up over cheesy romance movies on Netflix, loving a nice chick-flick and a tub of Haagen-Dazs, picturing myself as the awkward girl who got swept off her feet by the heart-melting man who fell in love with her and took her away to a beautiful cottage where they’d raise a family together (why didn’t they make those films about two guys I wonder…?), but once my father had given me the news of what was going to happen to me, I realized that my happily-ever-after was nothing but a fantasy.

  “You’re going with him and that’s that!” he’d told me with a slap to the cheek. “He’s rich, he’ll give you everything you’ll ever need, and I won’t have you linking up with one of those crazy Webbers that live up by Mist Peak! Violent sons of bitches, do you have any idea the trouble they stirred up last year with that pack war against the Kurrens?”

  “I don’t think they started that, dad—”

  He shut me up with a second clap and pointed a warning finger in my face. He was really angry at me, and part of me wanted to believe that some of that anger was directed at himself—guilt at having sold his only son—but I knew I was just rationalizing. My dad had always been a cruel man. I didn’t have a single happy memory of my youth that involved him, and I’d never even known my other father. A one-night stand probably. Dad never talked about him.

  “You just be thankful for what I’ve arranged for you,” he told me. “You’ll be a prince around these parts!”

  “I don’t want to be a prince!” I’d shouted, ducking out of the way of his third blow. “I just want someone I love!”

  “Love’s a bunch of bullshit, boy!” he called after me as I raced upstairs and slammed my bedroom door. “You better get that through your thick head!”

  I’d cried for a long time, wondering for a moment if I should just shift and head into the woods and live off the land. But I wasn’t a wolf—not completely—I was a shifter, and that kind of life wasn’t for me.

  I looked at the clock on my wall. It was 10:55, which meant Mark was on his way over. He was taking me out “for drinks,” which meant—as I was underage—that we were going to get a coffee in downtown Mountainside at a place that stayed open until eleven so students could study. I prayed I wouldn’t run into anybody I knew from school. This was supposed to be a “get to know each other” meeting so I’d be more amiable tomorrow when he took me to his house.

  Tomorrow…

  Tomorrow I would be gone.

  Tomorrow I would be legal.

  I shuddered at the thought. I was as virginal as they come. I’d kissed two guys in my entire life, and one of them was when I was six and was just a silly game with boys experimenting with each other. I’d never had sex, never given head (unless you counted practicing on a cucumber when I thought Corey Foreman was going to ask me to prom) and only given a single handjob that I thought would be reciprocated but wasn’t. Mark was definitely going to want to have sex with me, and probably as soon as possible. And that terrified me.

  I almost jumped out of bed when I heard the doorbell. I got to my feet and checked my hair in the mirror. It wasn’t that I cared what Mark thought of me, after all he’d already paid for me, it’s just that I knew my father would have a fit if I didn’t look perfect.

  My chestnut curls were looking good. I’d washed and conditioned my hair and then blow dried it to make them curl just right. My skin was clear, thank God, and I thought I looked pretty cute in my beige chinos and white and gray striped t-shirt.

  “Eric,” my father shouted from downstairs.

  “Coming,” I replied.

  “Hurry up!” he waved his hand at me and I came down, taking each step like it was going to be my last. My legs felt like I’d just run ten miles and my heart was like an overinflated balloon ready to pop. When I reached the ground floor, my dad got right up into my face.

  “Now, no funny business! You understand?”

  “What kind of funny business?”

  “Any!” he snapped. “Best behavior. If you screw this up for me, you’ll wish you were never born!”

  Like I already don’t, I thought miserably as he opened the door.

  Mark didn’t even come in. He stood on the steps and eyed our little home with obvious disdain. Some people would have found him good-looking, but he made me want to hurl.

  He dressed like a total fuck-boy, wearing nude-colored joggers with some kind of chunky sneaker that dads wore in the ‘80s. He had that typical haircut that everyone had these days with the sides shaved and the top slicked back, and a long-hem t-shirt in an off-pink color that reminded me of Pepto-Bismol.

  “Ready to go?” he asked me.

  “He is!” my dad answered for me. He pushed me on the lower back and I stumbled out onto the porch. Mark winked at my dad, took me by the arm and led me over to his Aston Martin. It could have been nice, if not for the fact that he’d had it wrapped in reflective gold paint.

  “Get in,” he told me. “And don’t scratch the paint.”

  Sure, trust fund baby.

  Mark smelled…unpleasant. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what I didn’t like about it. It was something like an old laundry room or a damp basement that someone had been smoking cigars in. It was undeniably alpha, but harsh and sloppy.

  Mark’s parents had struck it rich somehow—something involving the tech industry or an app or something—and then died and left their fortune to him. He was thirty-nine and hadn’t worked a day in his life. People in town knew all about him and his debaucheries, paying for companions and indulging in every substance known to man. Some
of the alphas looked up to him, but any omega with any sense knew that these were the kinds of men you stayed away from.

  We rode in silence into town. As he pulled up in front of the coffee shop, he grimaced.

  “You’d think they’d have a valet by now,” he scoffed.

  A valet in a tiny town like this?

  He got out and I did the same. He walked in, not bothering to hold the door open for me, but expecting me to follow him dutifully. Not wanting to upset my dad and face his wrath when I got home, I did just that.

  “Sit over there,” he told me as he went to the counter. I did as I was told, feeling like my heart was on the verge of collapse, and took a seat in the corner farthest from the door. The crowd was sparse, and I couldn’t stop hoping that one of the customers would see my predicament and do something to save me.

  Sure, I thought. Keep dreaming!

  Mark came over to the table and sat down, and I saw a look on his face that sent a chill through my body. He eyed me up and down and licked the corner of his mouth with a slimy tongue.

  “So, there’s been a change of plans.”

  He stared at me—waiting.

  “Y—yes?” I asked.

  “I know your dad said you were coming with me tomorrow. But we’ve decided to bump that up to tonight. Seeing as how you turn legal tonight at midnight, I want you to be at the house when that happens—just in case you decide to run off and lose that V-card to some eager boy your age who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  No!

  “B-b-but…I don’t have my things,” I protested. It was the only thing I could think of saying. I glanced around, debating for a moment whether I should throw a fit and hope that someone would help me.

  “I’m rich!” he laughed. “You don’t need any of your things. In fact, I’ll give you all new things so you can dress the way you should be dressing.”

  He leaned forward quickly and took my hand in his. I wanted to pull away, but I was terrified.

  “Don’t look like that,” he grinned. “It’s not going to be that bad. In fact, in time, you’ll learn to love it—to love me.”

  No, I shuddered. That will never happen!

  Chapter Two

  Brooks

  As my Harley roared and blasted down the road towards Mountainside, I couldn’t believe that I was finally going home.

  Well, sort of…but not really.

  I’d never expected to get a letter notifying me of my father’s death. After all, I’d never even known the guy. He gave me up for adoption before I was old enough to remember his face, and I’d been bounced around America’s fantastic (not!) foster system until my eighteenth birthday when I’d set out on my own.

  I’d linked up with a few packs after that before finally settling in with a biker gang called the Iron Nail. They were shifters and welcomed me with open arms. I’d learned to love bikes, the open road and the camaraderie, but then the war came.

  Another gang started antagonizing us over territory and began trying to steal omegas that were already mated up. We tried our best to keep the peace, negotiate and avoid conflict, but the other side wasn’t having it. They wanted blood, so blood is what they got.

  Our side was victorious, but the cost was high. We lost half our crew and the remaining half wanted to hunt down the families of the defeated gang and take care of them too. I wasn’t into that and wanted to set out on my own, so when I got the notice from the government that my father had passed, I saw my opportunity.

  He’d left an old house in Mountainside, and as I was his only family (technically) I’d only seen the photos, and was on my way there now to check it out.

  A quiet house in the woods. A nice break from the wild life of an outlaw.

  I took a hard left onto a bumpy road and slowed the bike as I approached the driveway. It was dirt with an old mailbox on the ground next to the rotten wooden post where it had hung.

  Job number one, I thought as I maneuvered the bike up through the trees. As the house came into view, I had to laugh. The photos had made it look a lot better than it was.

  It was a small cape that hadn’t seen a coat of paint in years, the once blue now faded to a tinted gray. The porch was in complete disrepair, several windows were without screens, one of the ones on the top floor was completely boarded up and the yard looked like it was ready to be hayed. But still, I was never one to shy away from a challenge, so I pulled the bike up and parked.

  “So, it’s a fixer-upper,” I joked to myself.

  I hopped off and made my way up to the steps. Thankfully, the front door was still intact and strong. I unlocked it with the key I’d been given and pushed it open. It smelled all right—I didn’t detect any mold—and didn’t hear any water dripping through the ceiling. I tried to imagine my father living in a place like this, but seeing as I didn’t even know what the old man looked like, abandoned the thought all together.

  This is my home now.

  At twenty-nine, after having been through everything I’d been through, I was ready to settle down, find an omega, put a cub in him and start a family. Unlike my father, I’d be there for my son and prove to him (and myself) that real love could exist in a family. But there was one big problem: I had to find an omega!

  I looked around the living room, which had a couch that looked to be in decent shape, and a coffee table covered in newspapers. The kitchen was completely empty.

  I guess pops wasn’t much of a cook.

  The staircase was in good enough shape, thankfully, and I took it to the second floor. There was a small bedroom in front of me, as well as a small bathroom, and then the master bedroom at the end of the hall with its own attached bath. Thankfully, the inside was in better shape than the outside, but it would still need a lot of work. I had a bit of cash to buy materials, and could handle the repairs myself. After that, I’d get the garden started and live off the land. That was my plan.

  The master bedroom had a bed—thank God—and even some sheets as well. The washing machine worked, and I threw them in. I probably wouldn’t use them, as I’d brought my sleeping bag with me, but it was good to wash them just in case.

  The sun was down and I realized I hadn’t even gone into town to see where it was I was living. I was hungry too, so I headed back outside, got on the bike and headed towards Mountainside. It was only a few minutes’ drive and I felt like I was driving into a postcard town as I pulled in.

  The “downtown” was a simple street lined with small, quaint shops, most of which were closed. There was a diner with its lights off, a burger place also closed—the only place that seemed to be open besides the gas station was a coffee shop called The Coffee Bean.

  “Ah, well,” I grimaced as I pulled the bike into a space beside a horribly gaudy-looking Aston Martin. “Gold? Who would have such poor taste?”

  I hopped off and headed inside, hoping the place served egg sandwiches or something. If it came down to it, I could fill myself with five croissants, but I was longing for some protein—any kind really…egg, ham, omega cum…

  But as I pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit spot that looked like a place for students to hang out and finish homework, I was fisted in the face by a scent so strong and overwhelming that it could only mean one thing: I’d found my fated-mate!

  Coincidentally, it smelled like a caramel mocha latte, but I could tell it wasn’t anything the shop was brewing up. It was a shifter scent—an omega scent—that danced through my nostrils like a ballet of prima ballerinas who had decided to start their own incredible troupe. I closed my eyes and inhaled, letting the beautiful scent coat my lungs, imagining it embracing my soul with strong, heavenly arms.

  Fuuuuck….

  I looked up, traced the scent through the air to the back corner of the shop and then I saw him.

  Brown curls, brown eyes, medium height and medium built. He was wearing a pair of chinos and a striped t-shirt. My heart practically fell out of my chest as I stared at him. I felt what humans
call “love at first sight,” but what we shifters call “imprinting.” It was that moment when you just know you’ve found the one for you. The scent of fated-mates never lies either.

  “Fuck,” I muttered. But then I saw a problem; there was an alpha already sitting with him. He was a rich boy, dressed like a total douche who wanted to look like he was up on the latest fashion, wearing colors a guy should never wear. I instantly realized whose gaudy Aston Martin it was that was sitting out front.

  What’s he doing with an alpha like that!?

  I wanted to rush in and snatch him away, but at the same time I didn’t want to cause a scene. Any alpha, especially a rich, entitled douchebag like him, would put up a fuss if another alpha just came in and hit on their date, despite the fact that he looked absolutely miserable. But if this omega was truly my fated mate—and there was no doubt about that—he would certainly recognize it as well. All I had to do was get him to smell me.

  I glanced around the room and saw a fan sitting in the corner of the room. It was aimed at the girl working behind the counter, but I stepped over to it and adjusted it a little so it was pointing at him. Then, I moved in front of it.

  The breeze on my back swept my scent across the room and I watched with excitement as it reached him. His delicate curls rustled ever so slightly and then his nose twitched. His eyes sparked like fireworks and I kept my gaze fixed on him as he looked up and scanned the room.

  When he found me and our eyes met, I felt as though I’d just opened a door that led to a new future, one I’d been picturing for some time now.