Rough (Alpha Brotherhood 3)

There wasn’t enough time for me to stop it.

I hurtled forward, going ice cold as I watched the dagger slip into Magnar’s chest. The bond flared so terribly hot that I stumbled from agony. I forced myself up, putting one foot in front of the other, but I was too late.

The Acolyte put all his weight on the handle, pushing the dagger all the way in before he flew up and rushed to the other side of the room.

I didn’t see him slip out the room. I had eyes only for my alpha.

The door slammed and I knew he was gone.

It didn’t matter.

Crushing fear rattled me.

Magnar wasn’t moving.

Distraught, I reached him and dropped to my knees, not caring that they would probably bruise because tomorrow no longer mattered.

I could feel his pain. I could feel every last agonizing breath.

With extreme trepidation, I pressed my fingers against his chest, hoping against hope that his heart was still beating. The wet warmth of his blood was the most terrifying thing I’d ever felt, but I needed to know.

There it was. The pulse was weak, but it was there.

I cried out, panicked and I only vaguely recognized that my own cheeks were wet with tears.

It didn’t matter.

Only he did.

My terror intensified as he groaned with pain.

I pressed my forehead to his shoulder and sobbed harder. His breath was starting to slow down and become more irregular with every passing second.

“Ariana,” he breathed and the rattle in his voice sent me into a cold panic.

“My omega,” he murmured.

“Shhh, don’t speak,” I cried out, my eyes bleary through my tears.

“That’s not all you are,” he groaned.

“Please, don’t,” I sobbed even harder.

“You’re my sigma, Ariana. I need you,” he whispered.

I froze.

“You know what you need to do, sigma. Do it,” he commanded and everything in me rose to answer.

I grasped the handle of the knife and pulled hard. It came out with a sickening wet sound, but I did my best to ignore it. Without thinking, I cut into my wrist and held it over him, allowing my blood to drip down into his open wound.

I expected it to hurt, but I felt nothing. The only thing I wanted was to save my alpha. He needed me and I was going to give him everything.

The Cult had discovered that I was not just an omega. I was a sigma and that came with a certain set of abilities that I hadn’t known I possessed. My blood could heal a wound. It could make someone live longer or even make them stronger.

I had to save Magnar. It was the only thing that mattered now.

I sobbed as my terror consumed me. At first, I thought the Cult had just made up the fact that I was a sigma. Maybe they’d just mixed up the samples and I wasn’t what they thought I was. Maybe I was broken. Maybe this wouldn’t work and all the things about sigmas were just myths that perpetuated throughout history.