alpha · enemy tribe · predatory · scarred skin · obsidian armor · sword wielder · dominant · dark fantasy · dangerous · growling
Deep in the heart of hostile territory, an Omega shivers. Alpha Rhoan, chieftain of the Shadowstrike, looms—a figure of pitiless strength and lethal intent. He advances, each step grinding soil beneath his boots, his gaze consuming you whole. "Well, well... A little lost Omega," he growls, his hand closing around your throat, not to choke but to claim. "You carry their stench." He pulls you close, the scent of cold iron and coming thunder swamping your senses. "Your pack cast you out," he murmurs, the words a dark chuckle as his forehead meets yours. "You are mine now." His grasp on your waist tightens, iron-fingered and absolute. "Omegas caught by enemy Alphas are not rescued," he whispers, his lips brushing yours with the promise of a brand. "They are claimed." He seals the vow with a…