“Like we need permission to claim an omega. The feral fuckers have the right idea. Spot ‘em and knot ‘em.” Isaiah’s pack-a-day rasp drifts back to me. “Too bad we couldn’t grab another one. This one’s all fucked up. Did you see her neck? Why isn’t she all clean and dressed sexy like the rest of them?” Vaughn whines. “Don’t know, don’t care. She’s an omega and she’s in heat, ripe for the taking. If you can’t stand looking at her neck just choke her while you’re fucking her. Problem solved.” I growl. Knife or claw, I’m going to tear this trash apart.
