The Biker's Omega (Alpha and Omega 1)(2)

"But they was gay," Bob protested. "We don't like fags. They're an abodimation."

"The word is abomination, fucktard," Trent snarled, his previous anger  at Stephanie spilling over onto Bob. Some days he regretted the fact  that he lived and worked among humans. Many of them had no sense of  honor and having to hide who he truly was, was another stress Trent  added to his list.

Toning down his snarl to a mean growl, he continued, "If you mentioned  to them that you were beating on them because they were gay, which I bet  you did because you couldn't keep your big mouth shut if your life  depended on it, then we are talking about a hate crime. That could bring  the Feds to our door, given that this is not the first time this has  happened. Is that what you set out to achieve? Bringing the Feds to our  clubhouse? With all we got going on here?"                       
       
           



       

Trent noticed that everyone in the club was silent, watching him and  Bob, but he really didn't care. The day a club full of humans bothered  his feelings of safety, was the day he hung up his boots and dropped  dead.

"I didn't … I … we … er … we … we weren't thinking about that," Bob spluttered out.

"No exactly. You never fucking think  –  either of you. Get Todd and meet  me outside. It's about time someone knocked some sense into that fucking  head of yours and I'm not making a mess in here." Without looking to  see if his orders were being followed, Trent stalked outside, putting  his jacket on the seat of his Harley that sat gleaming under the  moonlight. When he turned around, Bob and Todd were standing at the club  entrance, the fear etched on their lily white faces.

At six foot six, weighing over 250 pounds, Trent had perfected his look  to inspire that very fear. His huge muscles were covered in tribal  tattoos  –  all down his arms, and across his shoulders and back. He kept  his dark hair short, his sharp face clean, but he knew it was his eyes  that were his most powerful feature. Almost black, they glowed with  yellow spikes through them when he was angry  –  a sure sign his wolf was  lurking under his skin. Even humans had the sense to know when a  predator had them in his sights even if they didn't know what he was.

"Get over here," Trent yelled. "I don't want to waste the energy chasing you idiots before I bash your fucking heads in."

"We weren't doing anything wrong," Bob protested as dragged a reluctant  Todd along with him. "They were faggots. We hate gays. We did what was  right. Gay people shouldn't live in this town."

Trent snorted. Orlando, Florida, was one of the most gay friendly places  in the US. In fact he didn't know why the Epitaphs set up base here,  because it was a great town for anyone in the LGBT spectrum. But maybe  that was why. It wasn't Trent's place to question why Clive did what he  did. He just did as he was told, and at the moment he had two heads to  crack and his wolf was getting antsy.

"You bash who you want on your own time, idiots," Trent said, as he  grabbed the two men by the collar of their jackets and shook them  roughly. "But you don't bring shit down on this club."

Dropping Todd for a moment, he swung his fist at Bob, felling him to the  ground with one punch. Ooops, not. Bob was out cold. Forcing his wolf  under control, because when Trent got angry he didn't think to curb his  natural strength, he picked Todd up under the arms, lifting his feet off  the ground. That's when Trent smelled it. A delicious blend of  blackberry and hazelnut with a hint of … no, it wasn't possible, an Omega  wolf. These two fuckwits had not only beat up on two gay men in town  causing havoc for the club, but one of those men was an omega wolf  shifter, and if the cock Trent had hardening in his jeans was signaling  anything at all, that same wolf was Trent's mate. Todd had been hands-on  with the man. His mate!

"You stupid fuck," Trent snarled, as he pulled his fist back and smashed  Todd across the face. The sound of bones breaking did nothing to  appease his temper but Trent knew he had to get out and find the man who  Todd and Bob had attacked. Trent had never wanted a mate mainly because  he knew his fated one would be a male and that could cause all sort of  problems for him in his current life. But that wolf, his wolf, was hurt  and as an Omega, he would need an Alpha by his side.

Leaving Todd and Bob unconscious on the ground, and ignoring the yells  of the rest of the club, Trent ran to his bike, pulling on his jacket.  Bob said they were on Main Street when the fight went down. Hopefully he  could pick up the scent from there.





Chapter Two

Marly Miles stomped into his small apartment, and threw his keys on the  side table. Flipping off his shoes, he went straight into the bathroom  and started the shower, grimacing at his reflection in the large mirror.  Yes, his bruised cheek and puffy eye would heal, and heal quickly, as  would the stomp marks he had on his ribs. Marly lifted the tattered  remains of his t-shirt, grimacing at the bruises that were already  yellowing on his rib cage. Just as well he got out of the hospital when  he did, because his accelerated healing could have resulted in some  awkward questions.

Getting beaten up for looking gay wasn't something that bothered Marly  too much. He was a wolf shifter, and tougher than he looked. And it  wasn't as though it hadn't happened before, although this was only the  second time since he had left his home pack. But since he had left his  pack, and headed south to Florida, he had known he was different and he  didn't care who else knew it. He wasn't going to stop expressing  himself, through his clothes and the way he looked, regardless of what  others thought about him, or what they thought they knew about him.                       
       
           



       

Omegas always got a hard time in a traditional pack, and being male  hadn't helped the situation. Not when most Omega's were female. He knew  he was a rarity, but his previous Alpha had considered him a freak and  after one beating too many  –  okay, he really shouldn't have been perving  on Thomas the Beta wolf after the delicious looking man had shifted  –   Marly figured it was time to go where he would be appreciated for his  cute looks and stunning personality. He didn't need a pack to keep  putting him down all the time.

But looking at his bright pink t-shirt that used to have the words "Size  Queen" blazoned across the front of it in rhinestones, Marly almost  wanted to cry. It had been his favorite shirt. There was nothing that  could be done to save the top  –  not a freaking thing. He would just have  to throw it out, and Marly cringed at the thought. He took good care of  his clothes  –  mainly because they were so expensive and he didn't have a  lot of money, but he'd gotten lucky more than once in his colorful  shirt.

Snarling, Marly ripped the remains of the t-shirt off his body and threw  it to the ground. Slipping out of his skintight jeans was a little  harder to do  –  God, they were going to have to be dry-cleaned to get the  grease and stains out of them. More money he didn't want to spend, but  he wasn't losing a pair of jeans as well as his shirt.

"All because of those fucking phobic louts," he muttered as he stepped  into the shower. Tipping his head back and letting the hot water flow  through his long blond hair, Marly tried to let the tension ease out of  his body. He had been having a perfectly lovely day. He'd only worked a  half day at his job as retail assistant at Cody's Corner, a wonderful  little men's boutique that specialized in the latest fashions, so after  work, him and Michael, the other shop floor employee, had gone out for a  leisurely lunch.

After a delicious meal of Surf and Turf, Marly's favorite, and a bottle  of cheap wine between the two of them, he and Michael had decided to  take a walk up Main Street. Both on a low budget, they loved to window  shop, shooting the breeze like any two clothes conscious twinks were  want to do, when suddenly he felt a wicked punch to the back of his  head. Yelling loudly to attract attention as he fell to the ground,  Marly had turned his head and curled in on himself, as he saw a size  twelve shitkicker coming his way. From the tears and screams, it would  seem Michael wasn't doing any better.

Just as quickly as the attack started, it stopped and Marly looked up  from where he was hunched over trying to protect his vital organs, just  in time to see two thugs, dressed in dirty jeans and black leather  jackets with patches on them, running from the scene. It seemed a couple  of passers-by had called the police. Michael was bleeding and crying,  so Marly curbed his natural instinct to go running after the two thugs  so he could give them a hiding they wouldn't forget, in favor of helping  Michael to his feet, while one of the bystanders called the paramedics.  The hospital was keeping Michael in overnight with suspected  concussion, but there was no way Marly was going to allow himself to be  admitted. After talking to the police, and giving them a basic  description of what he saw, Marly signed himself out.