The Alpha's Desire For His Abused Mate

Ellen.

Pain. A feeling that should have been attached to my name. A forced part of me.~

My back felt like a thousand blocks were placed on it as I struggled to get to my feet. It was another show time and I had been brought out to the fun house to embarrass myself while other wolves would watch and laugh in both amusement and mockery. I wasn't sure for how long the play went on but my limbs felt dead. My organs barely functioning.

"More, Omega. More!"

My entire body ached badly. My wolf was almost unconscious and my bones felt like they had been trampled upon countlessly.

I struggled to catch my breath and get on my feet at the same time, but I crashed to the cold hard ground once again. This time, I didn't bother getting up, I let my body stay still. I was lying on spoilt and expired food, on stones and rocks, and the many other things that had been thrown at me. My nose caught the pungent stench of onion pus that had been thrown at my face and I could only grimace in my weakness.

Their laughter filled the hall once more, brutally soiling the once serene atmosphere, sounding like what my best friend would call a disturbing cackle. It was disturbing and I didn't care that they were laughing at me- well, I did, but there was nothing I could do.

I couldn't even help myself. Once again, they began asking for more but I was sure my body could no longer amuse them.

By now, even though my eyes were shut, I was sure the hall must be in its worst state, and it hurt me even more knowing I was responsible for its maintenance. Like a bolt, a rock was thrown at me and before I could duck lazily, it landed on my head.

My body went limp.

"That's enough now, everyone. Fun is over," I heard his voice; even the sound of it was like a punishment to me.

Derek Stones, my main tormentor and future Alpha of the Crimson Pack had stepped into the hall and announced.

"Ow! She's such a weakling!"

"Smelly Omega!"

"Why don't you just die."

That and many more followed as they vacated the hall.

In my morbid state, I heard the heavy stomps he made with his boots as he emerged towards me. He was my tormentor and I recognized even the slightest smell of him.

"Clean up," he kicked the side of my stomach and exited the hall.

Certain that I was all alone, I rolled on my back and shut my eyes, releasing the pool of tears that had been stored in them for hours.

As I waited to regain my strength which doesn't usually take time- one surprising trait from an Omega- I thought of my life so far. My cursed life in the Crimson Pack.

It started from my birth. As though informing members of the Pack that something forbidden had been birthed, an intense earthquake struck the Crimson Pack the day I was born. Lives, properties, and businesses were destroyed in the disaster and my mother, Mabel Oliver, lost her Life birthing me.

From that moment on, I was considered inauspicious and a bad omen.

Growing up as an Omega, I was timid and weak. Unlike my peers, I was also a very slow learner. My first movement wasn't until I turned five and my first success to utter a complete sentence to express myself happened in my tenth year.

Just like everyone, my father treated me no differently. Dwayne Oliver, my father, was the famous Beta of the Crimson Pack, and it angered him to know that his first offspring turned out to be an Omega. He would constantly tell me how my existence brought shame to him and how he wished I was never born.