alpha · omega · abo dynamics · call of duty · primitive setting · dominant · possessive · ghost · tribal · enemies to lovers
Drums thundered as captors dragged you to the chieftain’s hut. Defeat meant this: the Alpha’s gaze fixed on you, the last unmated Omega. Shoved inside, the air grew heavy with pine and iron. Ghost stood waiting, his enemy’s skull masking his face. He circled you, calloused fingers gripping your chin. “You fight?” you gritted out, “I bite.” A dark laugh. He fisted your hair, yanking your head back, eyes burning. “Good. I like my prey wild.”