Chapter Text
Louis is an omega, and he hates it. He may be the only omega in history to despise the role they were born into, but he’s also probably the only one who has been unfairly cursed with a defective body and a useless soul.
Omegas were meant to live peaceful lives protected by their tribe’s Alphas, get wooed and chosen by one particular Alpha, and build a family with them. It was supposed to be happy—easy—and attainable. It wasn’t supposed to be a far-off fantasy. But for Louis, that’s all it was.
To be a desirable match as an omega wolf, one needed to be the perfect balance of strong-hearted and delicately meek. One needed to be respectfully subservient to the commands of an Alpha, which were only supposed to be given out of protective care in the first place, and they needed to do it seamlessly.
But Louis didn’t have that kind of relationship with Alphas. Since he was actually rather immune to their commands and had been since birth, Alphas tended to be more aggressively bossy with him to try and break through his unintentional resistance somehow. He was never treated with the gentility they were supposed to bestow upon omegas because they refused to see him as an omega.
For his whole life, Louis has waited for an Alpha to come around with a powerful enough howahkan (commanding timbre) to awaken his hypothetical dormant nature and fix his broken life. But none ever have; none ever can.
So, he’ll never be an omega.
The problem with that is that he could still never be an Alpha instead, which is what he’d rather be sometimes. He still technically had heats, and he still has heightened sensitivities to violence and stress. But he’s been combatting both of these traits ever since puberty. Once he realized he would never be treated properly, he had stolen secret scrolls in his tribe’s Keep that held the secrets of heat and scent suppressants. If no one was ever going to see him as an omega, he decided he’d stop living as one altogether.
He’d molded the suppressant concoction to perfection, and he took it once a moon cycle, along with the scent blockers and contraceptives. Muting his omega traits to external perception was a reinforcing cycle; the less omega he became on the outside, the more he was ostracized for being a lost cause. But, the less people paid attention to him, the more freedom he had, so he considered it to be a worthy sacrifice.
Regarding the violence, he’d been slowly chipping away at that, too. With the scent-blockers in his remedies proving so effective, he’d managed to sneak undetected into the warriors’ training grounds countless times to study their swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. The reason why he was so keen on learning these skills had always eluded him—it wasn’t as though the Pack Alpha ever would have let him join the warriors in battle against rogues—but something in him had known that he’d need these skills someday.
He’d stolen a sword from the armory late one night and hidden it with his suppressants, and his days were usually filled by running away from the village grounds and practicing with his sword in the woods. He didn’t have anyone to practice hand-to-hand with him, but the trees out in those woods had hundreds of slashes on their bark from his solo swordplay. He had always been improving; even he could tell that.
He’d taken a special interest in trying to recreate howahkan with his own throat as well, so those woods had provided the peace and quiet he’d needed to train his throat to copy the timbre to his best ability. As it improved, he’d routinely used it like a test on argumentative Alphas, and their affronted reactions to it each time told him how much better he’d been getting.
He still wouldn’t have been able to guess why he’d been doing all of this with such fervor, but his answer had come when he’d least expected it.
Without much warning, he’d gotten banished from his tribe after committing one too many crimes in the eyes of the council. Banishment was the worst possible experience for any pack wolf, Alpha or omega, but especially for an omega. It’s still hard to believe he’d been forced to go through it at all. It was generally reserved for the most dire of cases, not for mere shows of insubordination.
Moreover, Louis might go as far as to say that an omega banishment had never even happened before him. It was almost unconscionable in wolf culture. It still cut him like the blade of his sword to remember all the feelings and events from that night.
Rixon Bahe, the Pack Alpha of the Siksika tribe into which he’d been born, had called him forth in the main communal hall and recited an unreasonably long list of his crimes and ultimately called for his exile. His pack bonding mark that tied him spiritually to the pack was scratched away by the Alpha’s claws, and as a final blow to him, he was pushed to the ground and he sprained his wrist trying to catch himself.
By pack laws, Louis had then been forced to endure the entire pack turning their backs to him as he willed his feet to walk him away from his only home, profusely bleeding wrist and all.
His own mother had been unable to console him; he’d heard her tears and seen the shake of her shoulders in grief, but he couldn’t tell her anything. He couldn’t share any last words with his longtime closest omega friend, Stanius, either.
After being insulted and heartbroken, he’d been forced to collect his few belongings (remedies, clothes, a quilt, and his sword, ‘Chatan’), and make for nowhere in particular. The only destination there had been was ‘away,’ and he’d walked right into that away with nothing but terror and pain in his heart.
That was three years ago now.
The terror didn’t get to him much anymore, but the pain was most likely eternal.
He’d been wandering the forests and plains of this world for a long time on his own, fending off vicious rogue Alphas every time they crossed his path, and so far, every single one had died by his hand. He had significantly hardened because of his circumstances, but it still razed him to the core. Killing was something that was supposed to be impossible for omegas to carry out, but it’s no surprise to Louis that he, of all omegas, can manage it. But it hurt , and he feared it would never not hurt.
Within all of his suffering, though, there will always be a well of pride in himself for being a self-sufficient omega in the wild, able to feed, shelter, and maintain his odd way of life; for being able to use howahkan to ward off rogues from advancing (if they were too far to smell him), and able to overpower rogues in the instances when they did get too close to be fooled by his disingenuous timbre.
He was impressive, and he knew he was impressive. He was powerful—unstoppable, if he may claim so—and if there were any other omegas in this world who’d been born as he had, they deserved to know how capable they truly are.
That’s all he wishes at this point. The fantasies of happy endings with Alphas had died in his heart long ago. The one thing he truly desires is that someday he could inspire wolves like him. If there were any. That’s still up in the air.
The sudden scent of an Alpha in his nose and the accompanying snap of a twig nearby set Louis’ senses on alert. He’d been taking a small break in his travels and honestly hadn’t anticipated any interruptions being this far in the middle of nowhere, but that’s the thing with rogues. You can never really expect them to follow a pattern.
He leapt up from his tree-trunk lounging and yanked his sword out of the ground, holding it in preparation as he turned his body toward the sound he’d heard. His senses weren’t anywhere near on par with an Alpha’s (that was just biology), so his night-vision left much to be desired, but he was still a wolf, and he could still manage.
His heart was thundering in his ribs even if he’s done this plenty of times in the last three years. It’s always possible that any one fight he engages in may be his last. Rogues would either kill him or try to bond him to cure them of their own loneliness. Packless omegas were unheard of; it made Louis quite a golden target.
The scent grew closer and now he heard every footstep, his pulse beginning to match the speed of those steps as his vision tunneled itself toward the rogue’s path of approach. Any second now.
The bushes of the clearing across from him broke, and the rogue made his entry onto the scene, nothing but height and muscle and malice. “What in the world are you doing out here?” he asked, his voice a little too happily intrigued with that question to be regarded as any manner of friendly. That wasn’t a surprise either—rogues were never friendly.
“Watching you turn around and go back to wherever you came from,” Louis replied, his voice strong even though his panic was at the forefront of his mind.
The rogue hummed in obvious doubt. “Now that I’ve found you here, I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”
Of course not , Louis thought, careful not to physically roll his eyes. That would have been a miracle.
It looked like he was going to have to take this interaction to the next level. He took in a deep breath as the rogue took a step toward him and released his strongest available howahkan in a barking command: “ Stay back! ”
The rogue froze in place as expected, face showing a clear whirlwind of thoughts as he tried to process what he’d just heard, but that was the only break Louis got.
“You may be the only omega in this world that can do that, but that’s not going to stop me. You’re no Alpha; certainly no Pack Alpha of mine,” he chuckled, his words uniquely unnecessary since being packless was part and parcel of being a rogue.
“If I was your Pack Alpha, I’d use my howahkan to make you walk off a cliff,” Louis said with a biting tone, gripping his sword tighter because he could feel in his bones that their fight would begin soon.
“Too bad you’re not, huh?” the rogue said with a smile, bending his knees and suggesting that he’d surge forward imminently. That was fine. Louis was ready. “I think I’ll just make you mine instead of all that—since that’s our only reality now.”
This time, Louis did roll his eyes. “You’d need a full moon to even have a chance, and I’d kill you way before then.”
That was one of Louis’ consistent (but only ) saving graces. Unless a rogue happened across him on a full moon night, he’d never be forcibly soulbonded to one, since that was the only time the lifelong spiritual tie could occur. The worst they could do without that is assault him with a knot, but without his heat at play, he’d never be bred either. Of course…it deserved to be mentioned that his heats naturally fell on the full moon cycle as well, which was especially rare among his kind.
Ergo, on one hand, the most danger he was ever in was always condensed to only one week on any given moon cycle. On the other hand, if something were to happen to the efficiency of his remedies, the most irreversibly dangerous things that could happen to him could all happen at once.
But he digresses. He’d never had reason to believe his remedies were susceptible to failure.
Instead, he tended to view himself as invincible. No rogue had ever gotten close to fully overpowering him, and that was a fairly good indication he was right.
And he didn’t think tonight would truly be any different. This rogue looked far too confident to see him coming.
“You’ve got a mouth on you. Why don’t you shut it !” he shouted, his howahkan in full effect.
He must have expected his timbre to sink Louis to his knees, but Louis was no ordinary omega. “Too bad,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, fully unbothered by the sorry attempt to establish dominance.
The rogue was clearly confused, but he didn’t question it further. Now he was just seething. This was right around the time rogues always got more murderous than advantageous. “Let’s see how confident you are when I pin you to the ground.”
“Come on, then,” Louis said, actually getting a bit impatient now. The banter was really not needed. “Try it.”
The rogue decided to agree to the terms and leapt forward, and as he slid out of the way, Louis took a focused note of the Alpha’s weight based on the appearance of his speed. It was something he’d learned from sitting in on warrior training sessions. The goal in fighting is always to properly size up your opponent by any means relevant and plan the best attack based on that observation.
This rogue didn’t move especially fast, which meant he was especially heavy. And an especially heavy opponent was almost the best kind one could ask for. It was laughably easy to use heavy weight against them.
He knew he was going to want both hands for this, so he quickly sheathed Chatan into its scabbard on his back and adapted his stance, going on the offense without hesitation. That was the other golden rule in going against a larger attacker: never let them hit first.
He ran right up to him and threw a false swing, letting both of his arms be captured in the Alpha’s grip because being handless was exactly where Louis had wanted him. From there, he leapt up with all his might and smashed his forehead into his attacker’s, the impact surely hurting them both but the Alpha far more.
The rogue yelped and let go, and that was his second mistake. Louis immediately went for the nose and struck it with a closed fist, and then while the rogue was even more distracted, extended his claws and slashed at his throat.
The rogue was now gushing blood from two places and would likely die on his own from the throat gash, but Louis wanted to finish this, so he ran forward and jumped up onto his chest, the momentum causing the rogue to crash down on his back.
Now positioned perfectly on the Alpha’s torso with one leg on each side, Louis went for the kill. “Maybe next time,” he said, reaching for Chatan and yanking it out of its scabbard. He didn’t wait for any kind of response (he doubted the Alpha could utilize speech anyway) and drove the blade down into his chest from the right between the ribs, aiming for the heart.
It was far more difficult to stab someone in the heart through the chest than one may guess; he’d learned that the hard way during his first kill because he’d almost failed four times. There was no point in trying to go straight down; the bone was thick here and unless you used the right angle, all you’d do is cut through the skin.
His practice had made him perfect, though, and he knew he’d done it. The look in the rogue’s wide eyes was terrified, and it ignited Louis with pride to see it. Alphas should be scared of him. He bent down to hover over his victim’s face and asserted unwavering eye contact, sending him off with a final image of his victorious face, just like he deserved.
Once the last wet cough had taken place, his enemy defeated, Louis let himself feel the unfortunate aftereffects of taking life. For him, being an omega, this went against everything in his nature, and it deeply affected him to do it—even at the risk of losing his life if he didn’t. It was by far one of the worst downsides of being out here on his own: being unendingly haunted by what he had to do to survive. As if it was his fault. As if he would choose this when given literally any other path.
Tears brimmed his eyes and he let them fall down, climbing off the rogue and taking Chatan with him because he’d probably throw up if he waited too long and then tried to take it out later. He then looked around for a sharp rock and undid the ties of his pants, finding the best angle with the rock he’d found and making a new cut to go with the others on the skin of his thigh.
It’s not what he’d choose to do either, but it was so far the only thing that made him feel better about enacting violence. If he ‘punished’ himself for his deeds, his nature felt some sort of justice being exacted, and he’d be able to fend off the panic. Though definitely unhealthy, it prevented him from going into a complete spiral of guilt, and that always had the capacity to be the difference between life and death.
He bore thirty-two scars now, all on his thigh, for the thirty-two rogues he’d killed during his travels. He didn’t know what he’d do if he ever ran out of room on his skin. He didn’t want to think about being attacked that many times, either.
It was only a short while into his episode of crying into the indifferent forest with a bleeding leg when he detected a new, much stronger Alpha scent nearby, and he tried desperately to get his wits about him for the new fight, but he just couldn’t. They’d never infiltrated his space back to back like this; he was at a huge disadvantage because of it.
Not to mention the scent of this Alpha outmatched all the other rogues to this point. He would likely be an unbeatable opponent, and Louis couldn’t run very fast, especially not when he was shaking so much. This might be it. His long-prevented but laughably inevitable end.
He tried to resign himself to the thought of his death, or life in captivity, which was worse than death, but the resignation was hidden under skies of fury. He was just so angry, he could hardly think straight.
His life had been uncommonly unfair thus far; imagining it getting worse made him contemplate ending it all right now to save himself from a sufferable future. It was a terrifying thought, but he was raising Chatan’s blade to his neck before he could really think too hard about it. Before he could talk himself out of it.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed the blade into his skin, only just breaking it when an ear-splitting bark of panic made him freeze. He couldn’t figure out why this Alpha would sound so genuinely worried for him, but he couldn’t deny the tactic worked.
At perhaps his own demise, he lowered the blade and opened his eyes, widening them at once when he truly took in the size of this Alpha. His wolf was black and outrageously massive and it was so intimidating that Louis didn’t think he could fight him if he tried. This Alpha didn’t smell like a rogue did, either. Rather, he smelled like he was some sort of Alpha pack royalty—regal and well kept. It almost didn’t make sense why he was out here in the woods at all.
The wolf began to shift, and he averted his eyes, staring at the giant paws as they turned into slender feet and stepped toward him.
There’s no hint of malice in him. But is this still the end of me?
“Omega,” the Alpha said, a knuckle appearing under his chin to tilt his face up.
Louis didn’t fight it, his eyes traveling up the Alpha’s skin form until he was looking into his amber eyes. He had black hair to match his wolf’s fur, and it was long, maybe just shy of his hips and shinier than a lake in the moonlight. His face was kind and handsome, and it was clear in his scent that he was mated. That small fact comforted Louis a lot; mated Alphas were inherently less threatening than unmated ones.
“Are you going to kill me?” he asked, wondering what his motives could be if it wasn’t stealing a mate.
The Alpha’s brow furrowed and he knelt down to the ground in front of him, studying his face and the corpse behind them that Louis had created. “No,” he said simply.
Louis actually liked that response; it was better than the whole age-old spiel about how omegas should never be harmed and blah blah blah.
“What pack do you belong to?” he asked next, his head cocked a bit to the side. It was a sore spot, but this Alpha couldn’t know that. “Will you let me escort you back?” he added.
Louis laughed, but there was no humor in it. He held up his marred wrist to give the Alpha visible context. “I was banished from my pack. It’s just me out here. There’s nowhere to take me; just be on your way,” he said, giving a small shoo motion with his hand to get him moving.
“I don’t think I can do that,” the Alpha said carefully, looking almost apologetic to say anything that could be construed as a threat. “I don’t want to kidnap you, but I don’t think I can leave you here either. It goes against every morsel of my nature.”
Louis also expected that. “So, what do we do?”
The Alpha seemed to consider it for a bit, standing up and slowly looking around them before crouching back down. “What’s your name, omega?”
“Louis.”
“Louis. My name is Zayn. I’m the Pack Beta of the Chehalis tribe. Can I—please—take you into my territory?” he asked, looking hopeful that Louis would just cooperate.
Louis considered all the facts he knew. He’d been found by a Pack Beta, one of the few wolves in a pack burdened with the responsibility of the welfare of every single wolf in it, and Louis was thus being propositioned to present himself to the Pack Alpha of Chehalis and hope for a lucky acceptance. Having lived a life so rife with rejection, it certainly didn’t sound like a good plan to him.
“I’m not walking for a moon cycle all the way to Chehalis just to be turned away by your logical Alpha, who will immediately see all my defects and send me on my way. I’d rather be here in more familiar areas.”
Zayn had already begun shaking his head before he’d finished. “My Alpha will not turn you away.”
He sounds so sure. “Zayn. You don’t know me,” Louis said blandly, standing to his feet and collecting Chatan to finally return it to its scabbard after all that drama. Zayn stood as well. “I don’t have heats, I don’t respond to howahkan , and I kill things. No intelligent Pack Alpha would want that kind of energy poisoning the rest of their omegas.”
Zayn merely smirked. “You don’t know my Pack Alpha either.”
Louis trained his face away from sassy expressions. “All pack wolves think their Alpha is special. And I get it; it’s your true and honest opinion. But that doesn’t change the fact that I know how Pack Alphas treat me, and once again, I’m not walking for a moon cycle into unfamiliar territory just to be abandoned again.”
Zayn blinked a few times and let out a huff of breath. “First off, I’m not sure where you think you are, but Chehalis is about a three days’ journey from here, if that, so it wouldn’t be a moon cycle. Second, I’m not sure who your last Pack Alpha was, but trust me when I say that Harry isn’t like that. He would never leave an omega on their own. It’s hard to ask you to trust me, but—”
Louis was listening, but his mind kept getting stuck on something the Alpha had said and he couldn’t hold it back. “Three days?”
Zayn nodded, looking a little confused himself. “Louis, where did you come from?”
Louis shifted his weight between his feet. “Siksika,” he muttered, the name still making his stomach clench.
“Siksika?” Zayn asked, his eyes wide with alarm. “That’s Rixon’s tribe. I know where that is, that’s…a really long way from here. How long have you been on your own?”
“By the count of moon cycles, I’d say about three years.”
Zayn’s face absolutely fell, and it almost made Louis laugh. It felt good to be sympathized with, but it also made him a bit irritated too. If Alphas were really so caring, the ones he’d known wouldn’t have let this happen to him. Right?
“Louis, please,” Zayn said in a low tone, looking around them once more. “There are rogues all over this area. I passed about eight just on my way toward your scent. Please come with me. I’m really opposed to dragging you with me against your will, but I don’t think I could stop myself in the face of the alternative.”
Louis appreciated the honesty. It was a threat, but it wasn’t a frightening one by any means. He sighed dramatically and ran his hands through his hair, debating the pros and cons and ultimately deciding the best choice for him in order to protect himself was to accept this offer. Even if it didn’t lead anywhere good. It would get him out of this rogue area, and that was notably more important right now.
“Alright, I’ll come with you.”
Zayn looked relieved to hear it and nodded his head, turning to lead the way, but Louis cleared his throat for his attention.
“On the condition that I can ride on your back. I’m in more pain than I can handle right now,” he said, his body still tense and achy from the mental anguish he’d gone through after killing that rogue.
“Of course.” Zayn shifted then and Louis climbed on his back when he bent down, and that was it. Then they were making for Chehalis.
Louis couldn’t know if this would be a good or bad thing for him, but he let himself bask in the fact that, at least for right this second, he was safe. And he hadn’t been safe in such a horribly long time.
---
Louis had definitely fallen asleep at some point—probably soon after Zayn had begun the journey—because he was suddenly roused into consciousness after softly rolling off the Beta’s back.
He yawned and stretched, looking around at the river they’d come to as Zayn shifted back into his skin form.
“Stay here; I’m going to go hunt for us, but I won’t go far,” he said, Louis nodding agreeably and only just realizing how hungry he’d been.
“I’ll collect firewood,” Louis said.
Zayn looked around and he looked a bit uneasy about that, but he nodded anyway. “I’ve scent-marked this whole area, so…just don’t go too far out of the perimeter.”
Louis smiled and shook his head in bemusement. “Zayn, I appreciate the concern, but you’ve seen what I can do with your own eyes. I’ll be fine. Go get food, it’s okay.”
Zayn cleared his throat and hardened his lips, nodding curtly and shifting back into his wolf to go scour the forest for them.
Louis snorted and shook his head again, getting to work on collecting firewood so he could build a good fire in the meantime.
He had a lot to think about.
He didn’t know much about Chehalis, but he knew it was plain-land and Siksika had been in the ice-lands up north. In three years, he’d crossed a substantial amount of land between the two tribes. There were seven allied tribes in the world as he knew it, and what’s beyond them, he wasn’t sure; he’d heard of all the allied tribes from time to time, but it wasn’t information he kept in his head. He’s no delegate.
And never would he have guessed he’d ever visit one himself.
He wondered what would be similar to what he’d expect; how much would be different from what he could ever expect? Would it feel like every pack does? Were there universal things that united every pack? Or would the environment be entirely new? They obviously spoke the same language—but was there another one they spoke, too? Would he learn it? Would he be allowed to exist freely, or would he be pressured to be a ‘better’ omega?
Or, of course, would he not have to wonder about any of this because he’d be shoved off the border line and made to sustain himself again?
The frustration in his bones translated into him chucking the firewood logs down on the forest floor like they’d bitten him, and he let out a yelp of vexation, hating the vulnerability he was feeling with every fiber in his being. He’d gotten very good at not noticing the harshness of solitude and this Alpha was jeopardizing that tolerance completely. Hope is a dangerous thing; Louis couldn’t be sure he could afford to dabble in it.
Nevertheless, he shoved all his doubt down and continued to build the fire, and he’d just gotten it started when Zayn returned with two rabbits in his jaws. “I would have been much faster,” he said, a playful smirk on his face.
Zayn growled, but there was no aggression in it, his form trotting forward and dropping the rabbits before the fire. He shifted back and looked around for a sharp enough skinning rock, but Louis pulled Chatan out of the scabbard and handed him that instead.
Zayn tentatively took it, but he looked at it with disdain, holding the blade in the flames and slowly turning it to rid it of the blood it had collected earlier.
“Tell me about him. About your Pack Alpha,” Louis said, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging his shins. It might be stupid to ask for details because if he sounded too great, it would be that much more awful to be rejected by him, but he couldn’t help the anxiety he felt in the uncertainty of it all. He wanted more—he didn’t want to imagine inaccuracies if he didn’t have to.
“His name is Harry,” Zayn began, deciding the blade was cleansed enough and sitting down to begin skinning the rabbits for them.
“That’s a weird name,” Louis said, not actually having intended to say it out loud. It was just new to his ears.
Zayn chuckled. “Well, I’ve never met a Louis before, either.”
Louis smiled. He didn’t mind new. “So, what’s Harry like?”
Zayn seemed to choose his words carefully, scrunching his lips up every once in a while as he searched for the best things to say. “He’s incredibly strong, mentally and physically, more so than any of us, but that’s to be expected. He’s young, but he’s wise. He’s gone through a lot of tragedy, but he has never let it best him. He’s the most dependable Alpha I’ve ever met. Regardless of whether I’m ‘supposed to say that,’ as you seem to think; Harry was my best friend long before he was the Pack Alpha, so I’ve got a different kind of bias.”
“Your best friend? Is he your age?” Louis asked, stunned to consider a Pack Alpha that young.
“He’s twenty-two years of age.”
Louis dropped his mouth open, having a hard time even imagining that. There would be so many wolves in the pack far older than he was, and yet… “Something happened, didn’t it? Something bad.”
“He was the Chaska of our last Pack Alpha,” Zayn began, his eyes filling with the sadness of the past. “I don’t know what your old tribe calls first-born Alpha sons, but we call them the Chaska,” he added quickly.
“Thanks,” Louis said quickly, eager to hear more.
“Our Pack Alpha was killed six years ago when Harry was sixteen, and he had to take control of the pack to save it from the grief we were all going through. That’s where he got his strength—living for us. Harry didn’t have any siblings to share the rule with, and his mother died at the same time as his father, so he was really on his own. And so young. But he’s done an incredible job; he’s guided us so perfectly that it’s really easy to forget there was ever a time when he felt unsure of himself.”
Louis stewed in that information, trying to fully picture the gravity of the pain this pack must have gone through. He truly hated Rixon Bahe, but picturing him dying wasn’t exactly joyous either. Losing a Pack Alpha was the worst thing a pack could ever endure. And losing a father on top of that must have been soul-crushing.
“He ran from it one time, but only once,” Zayn added, Louis dragging his focus back onto the Beta. “Soon after the ceremony of loss, Harry disappeared into the forest, and we all thought we were done for, but then he came back. And when he came back, he was ready. He came back as a full-fledged Pack Alpha, ready to rule, and it’s been that way ever since.”
“Can I…” Louis began, staring at Zayn’s wrist and hoping his meaning was clear. He was curious to more directly experience Harry’s scent, and it would naturally be embedded in Zayn’s wrist from the pack bonding ceremony scar. Every pack functioned that way.
Zayn nodded, transferring the branch he’d impaled the skinned rabbit on to his other hand to free his wrist, and then holding it out for him. “That first one closest to my hand is Harry’s father’s, and the one further up my arm is Harry’s.”
Louis leaned over and tried not to touch Zayn too much, fully knowing his scent would already be all over him and would probably enrage his omega when they got to Chehalis. But he had to know. So he got as close as possible and put his nose directly on Harry’s bite scar, taking a deep inhale and studying it.
And then he got light-headed.
“Whoa,” he said with a small cough, leaning entirely away from Zayn and turning his head in the opposite direction, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly. He’s never smelled anything that intense in his life.
“I always wonder what that’s like for an omega,” Zayn said, raising his wrist to his own nose and studying the scent too. Louis just straightened out and watched him, still speechless. “It’s definitely Harry, but…” he said with a shrug, smiling at Louis.
“You seem to misunderstand,” Louis said, taking the rabbit that was handed to him and biting into it. “When I say I’m a defective omega, I mean it,” taking a moment to swallow his bite. “Alpha scents do nothing for me; I can assure you Rixon was nothing like that. Harry is clearly something else if he has the ability to affect me , of all wolves.”
Zayn hummed. “I’ll take that as a compliment to my Pack Alpha.”
“Take it however you want,” Louis said with a new mouthful, still in awe of the scent’s severity. “Wait,” he said, leaning back into Zayn and studying his father’s scent in comparison, going back to Harry’s and confirming his thoughts. “Ugh,” he groaned, almost feeling queasy from the close contact a second time. “It’s not just his bloodline that’s that strong; it’s Harry himself. Quite an impressive Alpha, I gotta admit.”
Zayn dug into his own rabbit, seeming to think on Louis’ conclusions. “Well, like I said, Harry’s the strongest Alpha I’ve ever met. He’s been the most desirable his whole life, too.”
“I bet his omega is thrilled,” Louis chuckled, feeling a pang of jealousy for this wolf he doesn’t even know. Harry sounded like a great wolf; any omega wolf would probably be lucky to be his.
“He doesn’t have an omega,” Zayn said.
You don’t say? Louis asked mentally, a little too happy to hear that. “What?” he asked out loud instead.
Zayn nodded. “He’s not courting anyone either.”
A scent like that, and he wasn’t taken? “Why?”
Zayn made a hesitant face. “I don’t want to speak for him, but my understanding is that he’s just never really meshed with anyone. In his teen years, he knotted omegas here and there, but they were never serious for either party, and he just doesn’t feel like he knows any omegas in the pack that he would want to pursue.”
“High standards,” Louis said with a light chuckle, trying to think of a time when he heard of an Alpha denying the impulse to bond and mate simply because it didn’t ‘feel right,’ and coming up short. It was incredibly rare that no omega could capture an Alpha’s attention. Most Alphas leapt at the chance to pursue an omega that showed them a scrap of attention.
“Maybe you’re the one; who knows?” Zayn said, giving him a studious look.
Louis swallowed his most recent bite with great difficulty and let out his sharp laughter the second he knew he wouldn’t choke, shaking his head and shooting Zayn a look that expressed how very wrong he thought he was about that. “Oh Zayn. I can promise you this: being a Pack Omega is absolutely nowhere in my future.”