Your Omegas Are Mine [A Soulmate Omegaverse Reverse Harem]

In a post-apocalyptic world where men are Omegas, and women are Alphas…

Crushed by a bus, Quinn should be dead. Instead, she found herself in the body of a fictional character— Euodia, the antagonist in an R21 Boys Love apocalyptic novel featuring vampires, shifters and fairies. A villainess who had been killed by the seven main characters, the Omega kings of the uprising.

Quinn knew that she should stay out of their path. That the only way for her to live was to survive in the wastelands—a feat that was not difficult with her newfound ability to cast spells and purchase items from her past.

But the kingdom came to realise that Omega men could not survive without an Alpha mate; that children were no longer born; and too many females had been killed in the war between Alphas and Omegas.

Quinn should be exempted from the Mating Laws. Nobody cared for a Beta—a human-like Alpha that could never satisfy an Omega. Still, they kidnapped her; made her serve the men. And in the elite halls of Azarius, she found the seven kings who had murdered Euodia in cold blood.

Her soulmates.

And as much as they hated her, they needed her to survive.

[YOAM is an Omegaverse Soulmate Reverse Harem set in a fantasy apocalypse world with Sentinel/Guide inspiration]

Prologue

Quinn

There was a sword sticking out from between her naked breasts.

Quinn gasped, and blood spurted from her lips; a wet rush of copper flooding her tongue. Seven pairs of eyes bore into her frame: each wolf-like with a thin sharp slit in the middle instead of round human pupils.

Monsters.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness and her sensitivity to light dulled, she made out the silhouette of seven naked men. Notably because of light that traced the ripple of sleeked muscle, the dusky rose of pebbling nipples and the thickening beneath their waistline. Despite being rendered faceless from the obscurity, they seemed physically attractive, devastatingly so.

She'd blush if she weren't bleeding to death.

They watched her as she choked and coughed, blood flooding from her lips. It was then when she noticed the hand on the sword. It tightened upon the hilt and the glittering steel was pulled, wet from her chest with a loud bloody squelch. Freed, her body began to fountain with blood. The scythe of the reaper descended upon her neck.

Death was approaching.

"Fucking finally."

There was a chuckle and then another breathy giggle from a voice that dripped and oozed like honey. They seemed way too deliriously happy to be sane. And for that their beauty index dropped a point or two, and then grew some because she might be unhealthily attracted to psychopaths and red flags. For that, her breath quickened, and her heart rate sped, warmth pooling between her thighs.

She was sick.

"How is the bitch still looking at us?"

Her mouth opened and closed, confusion twisting in her mind; her eyes danced to movement, then the emergence of a partially concealed face. A hand slapped at her cheeks—whip-like it blinded her, and she blinked through reflexive tears. Pain blossomed sour and sharp on her tongue. A whimper erupted from her lips, but the sound was not met with sympathy.

"Just die already, stupid Beta," another voice spat out with so much scorn and hatred she felt the urge to curl into herself. It lashed out at her insides, tugging at her guts and filling her mouth with a bitter tang.

"She's like a goddamn cockroach. One stomp and she's still not dead."

"Maybe we should take another stab," the voice hissed, "it looks like we missed literally everything vital." The sword in her chest seemed to glisten at that, the blade felt colder against her skin. Her chest heaved.

"Fuck that. One of us should just eat her."

A retching sound filled the room, the groans that echoed were ones of reluctance. If shame could colour her cheeks with blood, it would.

"I don't want emotions. Not from her. I'd rather cut off my cock."

"And you think I yearn for that fishy pussy on my tongue?" A scoff and then, "let the bloodsuckers drink from her, blood is blood. They wouldn't turn down AB straight from the source." A beat and the men shifted on their feet; a decision was quickly made.

"Come, Icarus, it'll be good for you if you drank straight from her beating heart."

Fingers reached into her chest and with a horrid gasp, she watched as he reached in and ripped out the organ with the grace and ease one would have when plucking a rose from the bush. Her heart laid in his palm, weakly thudding and gushing with blood.

It was still connected to her body via arteries and veins that the hand seemed to find particularly interesting; thumbs stroking the wet flesh with a sensuality that made her shudder. And those fingers were ridiculously pretty: long and slender, pale against the crimson, clean short nails and healthy cuticles.

Terror struck her when lips appeared in the slice of light, his face partially concealed by the shadows, and a mouth descended upon the ruby red flesh. Those lips caressed her beating heart, erotic as it kissed and fondled its way across the softness; a pink tongue swiped upon the wet surface.

Vampire.

He took a bite as if it were an apple, sunk fangs into the muscle, and then sucked as if blood were juice from a peach. The moan that escaped in a husky rasp of timbre was straight out of pornography. The hungry kitten-like licks too sexual for her to deny the arousal that sang through her system. Her mind connecting it easily and quickly to someplace much more intimate.

"Divine," the vampire whispered in a soft voice that tasted like melting sugar in her head.

"Can a Beta really taste that good?" There was an edge of interest in the voices now.

The vampire paused mid-suckle and she caught sight of a shrug in the flashes of gold. The dip of a frown on brow. "Revenge tastes sweet."

Behind him soft little whiny gasps echoed across the room in sweet fluffy tones. There was the sound of thrusting, the wet smack of flesh against flesh followed by a garbled stricken groan. In the darkness, she found the stuttering of hips, their bodies only growing closer as they fucked against her death bed right before her face.

The disrespect was apparent even to the dead.

She tried to look away despite her own curiosity, tried to die in the peace of darkness. But fingers grasped at her chin. Sharply, they twisted her head towards the sounds that begged her to take a look.

Her gaze was met with the smooth expanse of tanned skin, her eyes meandering from the roll of hips to the bounce of a weeping swollen cock. The slit at the head pulsated and seemed to stare back at her— a taunting juicy pink with a sweet flush of red. A bead of precum slid down a veiny length.

A man with a man. Her mouth opened, gasp echoing in the chamber.

"Naughty," a smooth velvety baritone hummed.

"It's fitting for her to see actual fucking while she dies, bitch's too confident for that tiny little clit."

There was an ugly snort and a bark of infectious laughter.

"What I want is something to fill me up and satisfy me," he sneered, "not a goddamn Alpha and her gaping pussy."

Those words seemed to entice the group into fits of chortles, an inside joke that she could not understand. But the sound sent gooseflesh popping over her skin, a shiver wracking her frame. There was a muffled pleasured scream and then hot liquid splattered upon her cheeks, salt poisoned her vision.

Semen in her eyes seemed to be the only form of pain she could feel in this sick, twisted fantasy.

"Go to hell Euodia."

And then she died.

-

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