Helios
The women in his dreams were demons.
Demons with their whips, lashed out upon a sensitive back. Demons who unleashed a riot of horrible burning pain. Demons, drenched in the blood of his kin, of malevolent sin, of dangerous fear. But his dreams were not just dreams, they were memories.
Helios stood, poised before a crowd, frozen like stone, like marble. A tray of wine was placed in his outstretched hands. His arms were swept towards the stars with his chin lifted to catch the light—a servant, a slave, merely a fixture that prayed for salvation from the Gods. And those demons waited for him to fumble, tremble, and spill the vices that should not be worth more than his life.
The women waited eagerly for his mistakes.
They waited with their tongue spread across their teeth, with sweat on their brow. They were needy for a taste, for a chance to touch, to maim, to ravage him before their princess, their queen. Euodia was his master, and she had fed him to her dogs like the scraps on her plate. His feathers haloed his body, a ring of white against the sky. The pain in his chest seemed to worsen, flooding with fear, anxiety, terror and disgust.
He couldn't breathe, couldn't speak. And after those nauseating balls, his feathers were plucked, one after the other, violently pulled from his skin, each sticky and beaded with blood, each leaving behind a raw nerve, a fresh wound. Euodia's laughter echoed as she plucked him like cattle. It had the grounds fluttering with the remains of his purity, a bed of feathers, a bed of pain.
He rattled in his chains. The agony had him screaming so loudly that the sound seemed to sear into his brain like the cries of another. He'd cry and then he'd throw up. Helios would swallow down his sobs, watching the other Omegas by his side. Omegas that weren't quite as precious as he was. Omegas that were dispensable. Their bodies split right through the middle, boiling water bubbling over their skin, and their feathers puddling to the ground.
He should be thankful, grateful that he was alive.
Helios was too beautiful to be treated like poultry, Euodia had declared, and she had spent millions on his health. His feathers would return once again only to be shredded off him on the night of another ghastly ball. Again and again, until white turned red and red turned black. He was used as a fixture in the corner of her parties throughout it all. His status was reduced to an object, to nothing.
Helios was like a plant, moulded and twined to stand a certain way, with leaves and fruit plucked repeatedly. A statue that was beautiful in the spotlight. A statue tortured for a single movement, for a twitch of his body. A statue that could be used if he moved, if he flinched, if he shook. He could not move, and if he did, if he was touched, it was not only his life that was on the line. Oh no, Helios's mistakes had to be burnt into his heart.
It was the others who screamed when he failed.
The Omegas.
Helios sobbed.
Euodia killed something in him, his humanity, his sanity, his kindness. It had him lashing his whip, his rage roaring through him like an awful trauma, the blood of a thousand on his hands for his mistakes. His soul wanted the Alphas destroyed, wanted them crying, needed them to experience that pain. He was trapped in a violence that craved death and suffering. But his dreams were changing and now he no longer stood as the statue at the centre. Another had taken his place.
An Alpha.
Quinn.
But there was rage in her eyes, rage and hatred as she stared back at him. And his soul jerked with such an awful gut-wrenching desire that it had him feeling horrified. He was sobbing. Alpha, our Alpha, our mate. She shouldn't be there, she shouldn't take our place—The dirty hands were on her, dirty hands he knew felt like ants crawling over her skin, like fire on her nerves, like filth on her flesh, like roiling nausea. And her eyes were sharp with all the hatred in the world.
"You know how this will end," Quinn whispered. "Children, in your fucking plans. What have you become? Who are you?" And the Omegas in the crowd were laughing. His mates were cackling on the podium, as evil as the demons. And Helios was swept into the sea of it all. A coldness rushed through his core, a choking, awful sob spilling from his throat. The peach of her scent soured into despair. He could not breathe in its sweetness.
"I didn't want this," he begged, all tears. His knees flared with pain when he stumbled to the ground. "I didn't."
"You did everything. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth." Her head was hung low, her body sagging into the touch of other men. And something in him hated that, boiled with the need to rip them off her. "History repeats itself because you've learnt from those that hurt you. Look at yourself." And he did with scrambling fingers across his skin, with widening eyes. He smelt it then—the smell of dirt, rot and musk. The smell of an Alpha. "A wolf in sheep's skin."
"No," Helios whispered.
"You've changed. Power has changed you into something violent, something greedy." Her voice rippled into something that resembled his own. A guttural growl vibrated from his chest. "Where is the Helios that loved?"
"I'm Omega," Helios snarled, and in the dream, his vision wavered. His hands clawed straight through his skin. "I'm not her. I'm not her!"
"Helios," her eyes were sad, "I saved you, and for what?" Her tears shimmered, the bodies by her side moved concealing her from view. "I should have let you die." He didn't see it, but he heard it, the snap of teeth breaking bone. The tear of her flesh, the spurt of her blood. The backs of his mates, knelt before him, chewing, eating, swallowing. They feasted on her.
Murder.
Murder.
Murder.
How was this humane?
But they'd done it before.
And they'd do it again.
It was not her voice that echoed after that, throbbed in his head when he awoke gasping with tears wet on his cheeks. His skin was clammy with sweat. Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream. He inhaled, but that felt too sharp, too hard in his lungs. The sensitivity rippled and flayed at his nerves. The tears in his eyes tasted too salty, too vile.
Had it been a premonition?
Had he seen a vision?
He silenced those thoughts and stifled them with blind rage. No. No. He couldn't give in to the guilt.
How dare you?
The words echoed in his voice, but it was not him, and it came deep within his chest in a rumbling growl. A wild roar that he could scarcely recognise, and yet it seemed so familiar it was like coming home. Fear struck him. The voice had escaped from the nightmares, venturing into the world of the awakened. Helios was startled, heart pounding hard.
How dare you hurt our mate when we should protect her? His head throbbed, he groaned. How dare you when she was the one to break our curse? Helios blinked, flushed with sensitivity, raw with arousal, his cock jerked, painfully needy. A different sort of hunger burned in his chest, and dragged him forward, and he rose from his bed like a corpse. Who? He whispered. Which mate? Which Omega—
Our Alpha. It reminded him, he flinched stumbling back with sweat clammy on his skin. Protect her with your life, with all your heart and your soul.
What if I can't? The thought of her made his heart rush from fear to a red-hot anger of sharp incredible clarity. And yet his craving was like no other for the peach that dangled before him, desperation growing as she encroached upon his thoughts like the pull of gravity. An Alpha that didn't understand. She didn't fucking understand.
Kindness had no place with justice, gentleness was not how a society thrived. Quinn spoke with naivety; she did not see the bigger picture, the sacrifice it took to stand at the top. The hearts were necessary. It was not their fault that it was the cure. What could they do but lament the wrongdoings of an awful sickness? They had to do something, anything for humanity to survive. They ran on borrowed time.
Couldn't she understand that?
They did what they had to do.