The Sins of an Omega who has no Mate

~ZARIA~

They called me cursed before I ever bled.

Before I even shifted for the first time, whispers painted my name in ash and venom. I wasn't born screaming I was born silent. Watching. Breathing. Smelling everything. Even then, the elders said my scent was... wrong. Too rich. Too sharp. Too tempting. My mother cried the day the midwife flinched from me. She knew.

Omegas are meant to be soft.

Docile. Fragile. Carried by heat and ruled by instinct.

But I don't have a mate to anchor my instincts. No Alpha to leash my desire. No pack to tame me.

I was born an Omega but I became something else the moment the world turned its back on me.

And I've never turned back.

The moon was a sl*t in the sky silver, bleeding, watching.

The forest around me pulsed with sound: the rustle of low branches, the ripple of cold wind through pine, the heartbeat of prey and predator alike. I moved barefoot over the damp earth, skirts torn, blood on my thighs not mine. A warning.

Behind me, they hunted.

The Alphas. Five of them. Big. Ruthless. Feral. Arrogant enough to think I'd kneel just because their cocks got hard at my scent. The cursed one. The heatless one. The mate-less one.

"Zaria," one of them called. His voice was low, sing song sweet. That fake charm they all wore before their fangs came out. "Little Omega. Come out and play..."

I didn't reply.

I didn't run, either.

I crouched behind a tree, chest rising and falling slowly, grounding myself. I could feel my own scent thick in the air molten sugar and violence. That was the thing about me. My scent made them lose control. That's why they wanted to own me. Trap me. Breed me.

But I wasn't made to be bred.

I was made to burn.

A sharp crack to my left. A Beta maybe, scouting ahead.

They always sent the Beta first. Easier to replace.

I waited until he was close. I saw the glint of steel in his hand, the smug grin curving his lips.

He never saw my blade coming.

A whisper through the ribs. A flick under the chin. Blood misted the air like perfume. He dropped without a word. His blood was hot on my fingers as I leaned over him, eyes locked on the trees beyond.

They'd smell his death.

They'd come harder now.

Good.

I wanted them to.

They found me at the river.

Of course they did.

I stood waist deep in the dark current, the moonlight painting my skin silver, my hair slicked back. My torn dress clung to my body, soaked and ruined. My scent, too warped by blood, wet skin, and defiance.

The Alpha stepped out first. Darius.

Broad. Brutal. Smirking.

"You killed my Beta," he said, tone lazy, like we were making conversation in a goddamn tea house.

"I gave him mercy," I murmured. "More than he deserved."

The others fanned out behind him. Hungry. Eyes glowing. They wanted to break me down. Drag me to my knees. Knot me. Mark me. F*ck me into obedience.

I let them come closer.

I let them think they had a chance.

"Don't you want protection?" Darius asked, his voice laced with that sickly.sweet Alpha coaxing. "A pack? A home? Heat relief? You're not made to be alone, Zaria."

I tilted my head.

"You're right," I whispered. "I'm not made to be alone..."

He smiled.

"...I chose to be."

Then I leapt.

A blur. A flash of silver. The river surged around me as I slammed into him, blade pressed to his throat before he could shift. He roared. The others snarled, but they hesitated. Because even now, bleeding and half-naked, I reeked of danger. Of lust. Of something too wild to tame.

He grabbed my hair. I smiled in his face.

"Go ahead," I whispered against his lips. "Try and knot me. I dare you."

He froze.

Because I didn't smell scared.

I smelled... hungry.

The fight was chaos. Fangs. Claws. Heat. Pain.

I didn't win by strength. I didn't need to.

I danced.

I seduced.

I bled them dry.

When it was over, the river was red.

Darius lay sprawled at my feet, shifting back into his human skin, gasping like a man who'd just been reborn and realized God was a woman with a knife.

I stepped over him, chest heaving.

"Tell the others," I said. "Tell them the Omega with no mate is done hiding."

He didn't move.

I leaned down, lips to his ear.

"I'll build a pack out of wolves like me. Broken. Unbonded. Unclaimed. And when I do..."

I kissed his blood-slick cheek.

"...you'll beg to belong to it."

Then I walked away.

Naked. Unmarked. Unashamed.

And behind me, the forest didn't whisper my name.

It screamed it.

ZARIA.

The blood hadn't even dried on my skin yet.

It clung to me, sticky and hot, a second skin that smelled of iron, lust, and war. I could still feel the weight of Darius's eyes on my back, even as the trees swallowed me whole. His breath had been copper and arrogance, his touch desperate, his hunger bottomless.

And that look in his eyes when I walked away?

That wasn't fear.

It was hunger.

Let them starve.

I had no destination. Only a pulse, a rhythm in my bones, a calling that told me I wasn't made to kneel in any man's den. The wind tugged at my torn dress, whispering secrets through the branches. The moon had climbed higher now, its silver eye fixed on me like it wanted to watch me unravel, like it wanted to see what I'd become next.

A howl split the silence behind me.

Darius.

He'd shifted. Calling the others. Rallying them as if I were some escaped pup instead of the storm that had just torn their Beta apart like parchment.

Fools.

They thought this was over?

I wasn't running.

I was hunting.

My old den reeked of silence.

It was nothing but ruins now burned, rebuilt, and burned again. The stone walls were cracked, soot still clinging to them like old scars. My scent had faded, but not enough. Anyone with half a nose could tell I'd once curled up here like a stupid little girl, waiting for a mate who never came.

I stepped into the hollow, inhaled, and spat.

I wasn't that girl anymore.

The silence here wasn't peace. It was betrayal. It was the echo of packmates who had looked away while they stripped the collar from my neck and tossed me into the cold. My so-called sisters had giggled behind their palms, whispering: "What if she never goes into heat?" and "Maybe she's not even Omega at all."

But I went into heat.

Gods, I went into blistering, sickening, savage heat.

And the Alphas who tried to answer it?

They didn't survive the burn.

Not all fires are for warmth. Some are meant to consume.

I moved toward the hearth, fingers tracing a jagged scratch in the stone. My scratch. My mark. A scar left behind the night I realized no one was coming for me. The night I stopped waiting to be claimed.

I was about to turn away when I heard it.

A growl. Low. Male. Hungry.

I turned slowly, blade sliding into my hand like a second heartbeat.

And there he stood.

Levi.

The rogue. The Beta.

Not bound to any pack. Not chained by heat. Just wild, dangerous, dripping with chaos.

He leaned in the doorway like the place belonged to him, shirt open, chest slick with sweat, boots stained with blood. And that smirk Gods, that smirk was sin given flesh.

"You're a hard b*tch to track, Zaria."

I didn't move. Didn't blink. "Try harder."

He laughed. The sound rolled through the room like smoke, curling into my lungs until I almost choked on it.

"You cut down Darius's Beta like he was made of wet tissue."

"I gave him the death he deserved."

Levi stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his boot grinding against the scorched earth. "And what about Darius? Did he deserve to live?"

"I let him."

"That's not like you."

"I'm evolving."

"Mm." His head tilted, wolfish. "Or playing with your food."

His eyes dipped, shameless, dragging over me the torn dress, the blood smeared across my thighs, the blade glittering in my hand.

"You planning to use that on me, too?" His voice was low, dark velvet.

"Depends," I said, stepping into the shaft of moonlight spilling through the cracked wall. "You planning to use your mouth on me first?"

That got him.

For a heartbeat, everything stopped. The air. The forest. Even the damned wolves outside froze, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Then Levi moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

I was slammed against the stone wall, steel and heat coiled around me. His forearm braced just beneath my throat-not choking, but close. Close enough. His scent hit me hard: wild berries tangled with storm clouds. His lips hovered an inch from mine, heavy with the weight of a thousand things unsaid.

"You're poison," he growled.

"You're addicted."

His hand found my waist, gripped, dragged me flush against him. I could feel him, hard and ready, pressed to me with a hunger that matched my own.

But he didn't move.

Didn't f*ck.

Didn't kiss.

He just stared at me like I was something holy. A miracle he'd stumbled into but wasn't sure he deserved to touch.

"You're not in heat," he whispered.

"No."

"Then what is this?"

My hand traced down his chest, slow and taunting, until I felt his breath stutter.

"This is want, Levi. No bond. No heat. Just raw f*cking need."

His composure cracked. His mouth crushed against mine-hot, furious, filthy. Not soft. Not sweet. Just teeth and tongue and blood.

His hands slid to my thighs, lifted me, slammed me into the stone like he wanted to brand me into the ruins. I wrapped my legs around his waist, grinding against him like a starving thing.

Maybe I was.

Starving for something real. Starving to prove I didn't need a f*cking mate to feel alive.

Levi kissed like he wanted to burn with me.

I bit his lip until it bled.

He groaned, low and broken. "F*ck, I forgot how insane you are."

I licked his blood from my tongue. "You love it."

His hands roamed lower, rough on my *ss, my dress hiked high around my hips. He could've taken me. He didn't.

He just held me there, forehead pressed to mine, sweat slicking both of us.

"What are you doing, Zaria?" His voice cracked on the words.

I smiled, slow and merciless.

"Starting a war."

When he finally left, I didn't ask him to stay.

I lay back in the soot of my old den, chest rising and falling slow, my pulse still racing like thunder in my veins. The fire between my thighs still burned, but it wasn't release I craved.

It wasn't pleasure I needed.

It was information.

Levi had come first. But he wouldn't be the last.

Because the Alpha King was watching.

The same bastard who had exiled me years ago.

And now with his enemies clawing at his borders, with his pack fracturing under his rule he wanted his secret weapon back.

Me.

But I wasn't going back.

I was coming for his throne.

~Zaria~

---------------------------------------------------------------

The forest always smelled different before a storm.

It wasn't just the rain you could feel in your bones it was the stillness. The eerie hush, like every leaf and every creature had paused in worship of the chaos to come.

That was how it felt now.

Except I was the storm.

And I wasn't done brewing.

I sat beneath a crooked willow tree, legs stretched out, arms behind my head, watching the moon crawl behind the clouds like a coward. My blade lay across my stomach, still crusted with blood. I hadn't cleaned it yet. There was something sacred in leaving the stains, like wearing your kill proudly.

Every breath I took was laced with copper and pine.

The river roared not far behind me.

And Levi was gone.

He left with a bruise on his jaw, bite marks down his chest, and blood on his tongue. I didn't need him to stay. That was the difference between me and every Omega they tried to mold me into.

I didn't need anyone to stay.

But I remembered what he said.

"The Alpha King's watching."

Yeah. I felt it.

Like a thread of heat at the base of my spine. A prickle beneath my skin that didn't belong to my body, but something older. Something tethered to me by history and blood and hate.

He hadn't spoken to me in years.

Not since the exile. Not since he branded me a disgrace to his bloodline and spat on the bond that had once almost connected us.

Alpha Kings don't kneel.

But back then... I was just a trembling little Omega, on the edge of my first shift, daring to challenge him.

Now?

Now I was everything he feared I'd become.

The campfire I built was weak.

I didn't care.

I wasn't trying to stay warm.

I was baiting wolves.

Sure enough, I heard them.

Not footsteps wolves don't move like that. Not when they're trained. What I heard was the shift of air. A rhythm in the leaves. A subtle disruption in the wrong direction of the wind.

Trained soldiers.

Royal guards.

I smiled.

Let them come.

They didn't attack.

They didn't charge.

They surrounded me.

Three of them Alphas, clearly. Clad in dark armor etched with the symbol of the royal crest: a crescent moon over a wolf's skull. The Alpha King's sigil.

One of them stepped forward. Scar down his cheek. Eyes like ice and judgment.

"Zaria of Black Hollow," he said, stiff and formal. "The King requests your return."

I yawned.

"Tell the King to shove his request up the nearest royal *ss."

The soldier didn't blink. "Refusal will be considered treason."

"Oh no," I mock gasped, pressing a hand to my heart. "Treason? What a terrifying word for someone who was already thrown out like rotten meat."

The other two wolves bristled. The one who spoke narrowed his eyes.

"You are to return with us. Now."

"And if I don't?"

His lips curled. "Then we drag you."

That made me laugh.

I rose slowly, blade in hand, firelight licking the side of my face.

"I'd love to see you try."

The wolf lunged.

Too slow.

Too loud.

Too Alpha.

I ducked, spun, and carved a clean arc across his leg. He dropped with a grunt. Not dead just embarrassed.

The second came next. I slammed the hilt of my blade into his throat before he could draw his dagger. The third? He hesitated. Smart.

"Tell your King," I said, standing over them, voice cold, "that if he wants me, he can come get me himself."

They left.

Crawled, limped, stumbled away into the trees. Bleeding. Shamed.

And I stood there, chest rising and falling, my blade dripping at my side.

I didn't smile this time.

Because now I knew.

He really was watching.

Not from the shadows.

Not through the guards.

But from the place only bonded wolves could feel through the tether.

Yes. That bond.

That almost bond.

He'd reached for it tonight.

A pulse.

A spark.

Not strong enough to control me.

Not yet.

But strong enough to know I was still his at least in blood. If not in body.

The King still thought he could summon me like some mutt.

He forgot who I was.

I turned my eyes to the distant hills.

Toward Red Hollow his territory. His throne. His seat of power.

Maybe it was time I started sending messages.

The kind that burned.

The next day, I found the village.

A border town, straddling no man's land between rogue country and royal rule. Half of them followed the crown. Half followed coin. No loyalty. Just survival.

My kind of place.

I walked in with my hood up and my boots caked in dried blood. Nobody stopped me. Nobody dared.

They whispered.

"She's back."

"That's her Zaria, the cursed Omega."

"I heard she made an Alpha sl*t his own throat just to breathe her scent again."

Let them talk.

I needed supplies.

And a map.

And a plan.

But first, I needed to visit someone.

The woman who'd taught me how to sharpen a blade with broken bones.

The healer who'd sewn up my stomach the night my first heat nearly killed me.

The one person left in this world who didn't want to tame me.

Mother Myra.

I found her in the apothecary shop, grinding herbs with calloused hands, eyes white as snow from age but seeing more than any seer ever could.

She didn't look up when I entered.

"You reek of lust, blood, and vengeance," she said, voice rasping like smoke.

"Your perfume's gotten better," I replied.

She cracked a smile.

"Sit, child. The King's finally stirred, hasn't he?"

I froze.

"...you knew?"

Myra looked up. Blind, but somehow staring straight into my soul.

"I dreamed of him last night. His claws dipped in gold. His eyes burning like war. And your name... written in ash on his tongue."

My throat tightened.

"What does he want from me now?" I asked.

Her voice dropped.

"He doesn't want to claim you, Zaria. He wants to kill the part of you he couldn't ever control."

I stared at her.

Then whispered, "And if he fails?"

Myra grinned, all teeth.

"Then you'll wear his crown like a trophy. And every wolf who doubted you will kneel in your scent."

Later that night, I sat on the rooftop of the tavern, wine in my hand, blade in my lap, stars overhead.

The wind was shifting.

The King's soldiers would come again.

But this time?

I'd be waiting.

And if he dared show his face?

The exile would end the only way it ever could.

With blood on a throne.

And an Omega ruling alone.