Mended and Marked

Chapter Four - Cahress

Two alphas, eight omegas, and one human boy stand in the middle of the desert. The vehicle we just vacated launches over a nearby dune, heading toward the sun as Commander Ru'en slips back into the driver's seat. His voice rumbles in my ear as he speaks to Choku and Jokur, who were chasing a second transporter, then gives curt directions to Thret and I.

As the Sky-Flyer bursts over the mountains to the west, where we were before the crash, we turn our little group north and slide down a dune to hide in the valley.

When the tiny pregnant female wobbles and almost somersaults down the slope, I reach for her. She fixes her balance before I touch her, so I pull my hand back and force myself to help a different female instead.

She calls to me without saying a word. Her deep brown eyes and delicate features affect me as much as the swell of her belly does. My protective instinct always magnifies near females, but this little one has them in overdrive. It almost hurts to watch her struggle in the deep sand.

The urge to rip my mask from my face and scent her nearly overrides my common sense, but the sound of gunfire stays my hand.

Commander Ru'en drives the transporter away, leading the Sky-Flyer on a merry chase, becoming a decoy so we can get the victims to relative safety.

When the sounds of engines fade far enough away, Thret gestures for me to round up our tiny flock. I sigh and make a crude gesture back at him, letting him know I think he's a sorry sack of shit, in the most respectful way, of course.

His eyes narrow within his mask before he shakes his head and crosses his arms over his wide chest, displaying his obstinacy.

The big boy will have to learn to speak to females one day, but obviously today is not that day.

I meet frightened faces and soften my stance.

"My name is Cahress and that ugly mug over there is Thret. We're headed northeast toward the mountains. Stay together. If we don't find shelter from the sun before midday, we won't survive. If you need help, call out. We'll do what we can to keep you moving—no one will be left behind."

After perusing the sooty, battered humans in front of me, I decide to include another tactic.

"I'm going to pair you up with at least one other female. Help each other, but still don't hesitate to call out. Understand?"

Already huddled together, the omegas don't balk as I assign couples. Most link arms together, their natural instincts seeking close company in their time of need. Social creatures at heart, omegas need someone else to nurture, as well as emotional support when things get too difficult.

I pair them according to their stance and expression—putting a timid, younger female with an older, stern looking woman. Two of the taller omegas loop their arms together, one blinking as though she can't remember how she got here while the other trains her gaze toward our destination.

I put the mother and son with the female who jumped from the vehicle first, her body practically vibrating with her need to keep moving. She exudes nervous energy, but her deep breaths and clear eyes lead me to believe she'll have no problem carrying the boy when his mother gets tired. Thret dips his chin in acknowledgement when I signal for him to keep the boy at the front of the pack.

He grunts a word and sets off around the dune, picking out the easiest route even though it means a longer trek.

The little mama and her travel companion, one of the other shorter omegas, weave their fingers together and follow the second set of omegas, leaving another couple between myself and her.