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Omegas don’t exist anymore. Every pack in the world knows that. So when Julia arrives at a small village in Switzerland, the pack doesn't even think twice about her Beta status, long given up hope for completion.That is until she starts perfuming.Could it be true? Is Julia a fluke or is this woman the only Omega left?

Knotting Before Them

Series: The Lost Omegas book 1/3
Pack: Noah, Wylder, Theo and Julia.
Set: Switzerland

Knot that Simple

Series: The Lost Omegas book 2/3
Pack: Lorcan, Oisin, Tadgh and Gabriela.
Set: Ireland

Knot in my Plans

Series: The Lost Omegas book 3/3
Pack: Per, Ander, Sven and Isadora.
Set: Sweden

Wild Darlin'

Series: Rough & Rugged Alphas book 1/3
Pack: Major, Derrick, Jesse and Veda.
Set: USA

Indigo

Series: Omega Rescue book 1/4
Pack: Hank, Nash, Cassidy and Indigo.
Set: USA

Unsafe Haven

Series: Rough & Rugged Alphas book 2/3
Pack: Dominic, Hendrix, Phoenix and Haven
Set: USA

Journey

Series: Omega Rescue book 2/4
Pack: and Journey
Set: USA

Broken Honor

Series: Rough & Rugged Alphas book 3/3
Spring 2027

Nova

Series: Omega Rescue book 3/4
Early 2027

Amy Oliveira is an Omegaverse romance author dedicated to writing about the two things you shouldn't skip on: therapy and smut.Her leads are strong, flawed, and very open about their mental health struggles. Her heroes are understanding, lovable, and often pierced. Omegaverse, dark or contemporary. It all ends a delicious slow burn with a lot of heart and a lot of heat.For inquiries please refer to Angie Ojeda at Lunar Literary Agency
[email protected]

Trigger warning: Sexual and physical abuse.Their screams echo in the vastness of the darkening night, tangled with my own as the car ascends. Beside me, a girl laughs and howls, her arms up in surrender while I hold the restraints over my chest, flattening my boobs to a desperate degree.“Let’s go!” she screams, and the rest of her entourage ahead of us responds with equal enthusiasm.The roller coaster clinks and clacks along the rails. My eyes fall from the stranger beside me to the carnival below us as everyone grows smaller and smaller with each minute of our ascent. The air is heavy with excitement. I breathe in deeply, hoping to bottle this feeling for as long as I live.Since they arrived in town earlier today, people have been talking about it. There’s a huge line to every attraction, especially at the funnel cake stand. For hours I played the what-if game. I asked myself where I would go first if I wasn’t me.It’s a dangerous game to play. It turned so dangerous that what-ifs became now, and just watching became standing on the line, and from standing I’m now carried all the way up, yellow sun dipping in the horizon and the enthusiasm of strangers fueling my own.“Are you a screamer?” my companion asks.She arches an eyebrow as the car finally stops at the highest point. From here, we can see the whole of Willow’s Ridge bathed in orange, with the promise of a great weekend. I smile at her, yearning to be as fun as she looks. Her nose piercing shines, and the loose strands of her hair brush out of her face.
God, she looks happy.“I can be,” I say.“Okay, that’s fun. Let’s scream the house down.” She nods to herself and turns her face back to the front. “No puking!”I don’t have time to tell her I’ve never been on a roller coaster. Therefore, I have no idea if I’m a puker. The car tips down, and all thoughts fly out of my ears as the wind knocks the words off my tongue. The dip lets loose a high scream from my lips, and my companion loves it. She howls with her arms up, shaking her head side to side.Eyes wide, I’m not as brave as her, but the roller coaster doesn’t care. It loops and jostles us around as it turns tightly to the left, and when I think it’s been enough, I’m thrown upside down for the corkscrew ending.Wavy boring brown hair cascades beside her blue, but up here, like this, I can almost pretend we are the same. Happiness bubbles up from inside me, and I find myself laughing between screams, my voice hoarse, echoing the sentiment of the rest of the crew.It all ends too soon.The world readjusts itself, my hair falls beautifully over my shoulders, the screams quieten, and the weight of me comes down once again. When the restraints lift from our chest, my companion jumps out to join her friends, not sparing me a second glance.My eyes linger a moment too long, and I watch their group laugh and skip away from me, my yearning so ridiculous it burns its way from my chest up to my cheeks.Haven, go home.The little voice of reason urges me, reminding me of my curfew. I’m already late, I’m already doomed. It takes me longer than it should to finally step away, but when I do, I run up the hill to the mansion.My steps eat the pavement, heart so loud I hear it pound in my ear. My thighs burn alongside my lungs, but I don’t dare to stop. The farther I am from the funfair, the less I understand why I let myself stay. My parents are at a charity event tonight, but they have cameras. They will know the exact time I was back home.“Miss Prescott.” The security guard greets me, eyes on his own watch as he grimaces.“Good night,” I say perkily, trying to sound like my usual self.It doesn’t look good if the staff hears the tremor in my voice. Mom hates gossip, and she will fire them all at once if she thinks they are spreading rumors about us. I make sure to smile to protect their jobs, and pretend to be the perfect family even if we are anything but. No one knows what really goes inside the Prescott Manor.By the time I make it to the front door, my heart rate is back to normal, just as my breathing. I made my choice, and at least I don’t need to deal with the consequences today. They are always out late when there’s a charity event, sure to only return in the wee hours of the night.
The front door closes softly behind me. The hall is dark, but light is filtering from the large living room to the left, so I’m not in complete darkness. I roll my shoulders back and make a beeline for the stairs, pushing away any thoughts of consequences. It does not matter right now.Lighting flickers to my right, halting my sure steps. Every hair on my arm rises, and I sniff the air like a dog, drawing the scotch to my lungs. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the hulking form of Daddy leaning against the banister, his back to the office.“Haven.”Measured, he calls my name with a slight slur that has me squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. It’s never good when he has a drink. I school my expression and turn with a smile.“Hi, Daddy!”My greeting has enough sugar to give me a toothache, yet he doesn’t reply. The light in the office gives him a false halo. From this angle, I can’t see his expression, but I feel it in my bones.“Inside,” he grunts before turning around.The ice and amber liquid slosh in the glass, creating a misleading calming sound as he makes his way behind the desk. My smile shakes at the corners, but I don’t dare drop it.“I thought you were going to the charity event.” I follow him to the office, but I’m smart enough not to close the door behind me.I know too well what Daddy does behind closed doors.“And that’s an excuse to break your curfew?”I don’t tell him that being twenty-two should be enough of an excuse not to have a curfew at all. That nothing would bring me more pleasure than working for a living and paying for my own roof so I don’t need to follow his rules. Nothing of the sort leaves my lips.“The library was open until late, and I lost track of time. Sorry, Daddy.”It sounds better than to say I was at the fun fair riding the roller coaster. Imagine letting him know I smiled and had fun. That I was upside down not twenty minutes ago, and my thirst for normalcy is so great that I’d risk his wrath just to have a few stolen moments of happiness.“You should know better,” he says, his eyes trace my features carefully as he takes a sip of the scotch.“So what happened with the charity event? Mom’s indisposed?”From time to time, Mom pops too many pills and can’t make it to an event. They tell everyone she has chronic migraines. They even hosted a charity event last year to raise awareness, but, as with most things about Prescott Manor, it was all a lie. What my mom has is an addiction and a horrible husband.“Dominic Savage made an interesting attempt at destroying my legacy today,” he says, eyes on the tumbler as if it’s telling it rather than me.He might as well ask the tumbler because I have no idea who Dominic is, and what legacy is this besides terror and this mausoleum he calls home.“I had to stay behind for damage control,” he continues without waiting for my reply. “Your mom went ahead.”My stomach bottoms. Mom is not much help, but the illusion of her presence has always been more important than the woman herself. For all the things she let happen to me, all of what she could have prevented, I like to imagine she’d stop him from killing me. If anything, remind him that people will talk if his daughter suddenly disappears.“I’m sorry to hear it, Daddy. Couldn’t your partner Mr. St. James help?” I foolishly keep my tone light. “You work too hard as it is.”Daddy blinks, and his eyes flicker from the tumbler back to me. Dead-cold eyes meet mine, freezing the breath from my lungs. My knees give, yet I’m so damn conditioned. The smile only widens on my dry lips.“It’s St. James’s fault that I’m in this situation.”There’s nothing I can say about this. Giving him suggestions is walking into a trap. Or he’ll call me stupid, or he’ll be angry if I sound smarter than him.“I’m sorry that this issue ruined your night,” I say carefully.He doesn’t respond to my sentiment and instead takes a swig of the drink, finishing it, then sets it down loudly on the desk.“The responsibilities over my shoulders are many,” he grumbles. “I don’t have time to check on you. You should know better than to miss your curfew.”“I’m sorry, Daddy.”The words taste sour. I said that too many times before. They lost their meaning with time. The things I’m sorry for are never the things he wants me to apologize for. I’m always sorry for being caught, for not having as many self-preservation instincts as I should. I try not to make mistakes, but I always end up in the same position: a smile on my lips and an apology coating my tongue.Daddy shakes his head and stands at his full height, his eyes back on me, searching, calculating, bringing chills down my arms. I keep exactly where I am. I know better than to squirm or try to run. My eyes remain innocent. In my head, I call him dad over and over again to see if he remembers. Praying that he does.
Would it make any difference? I’m not sure, but hope is the only thing I have left.He walks to me, the burning scotch smell making me heave, but I still hold myself in place. Rough fingers trace my jaw, and he smiles at me, a smile I know too damn well.“I don’t like being rough with you, Haven,” he lies. “But sometimes it’s like you don’t listen to me.”“But I do, Daddy.” I’m quick to nod. “I’m sorry if I’m an airhead—”“Enough.”It happens too fast. The words ring around the room as his hand lifts menacingly. My eyes follow the long path it makes above my head until it’s racing back down, aiming for my cheek. I’m too stunned to do anything about it. He never hit me before. He never dared to leave a mark in anything but my spirit, but as my cheeks sting from his brute force, I have to reassess everything I know.
He’s changing the game in front of my eyes.“Dad?” My voice is small as my trembling hand reaches to touch what I can bet is a marked cheek.He grips my chin between his fingers, forcing me to look straight at him, though it is the last thing I want to do. I know that expression, and I know it well. It’s what comes before violence and hate. It’s the portrait of the man who has been summoning me to his office since I was twelve years old.“What’s so good about you, huh? What’s so fucking good about you?”The changing of subject leaves me reeling, and I shake my head. “Nothing.”God knows, I don’t think I’m special in any way. If anything, I want to be as unremarkable as possible.“They would burn anything for you. Fucking Dominic Savage is not going to stop!”I shake my head as much as his strong grip lets me. “Daddy, I don’t know who Dominic Savage is. I don’t—”“I took you because I thought you were something special, and you can’t even suck a cock properly, can you?”Took me? Once again, my brain manages to skip the insults and attempts to grasp the meaning behind every word. Before I can make sense of his inflammatory words, he pushes me away. He’s so strong I stumble and fall to my feet, the perfect position to match the helplessness I feel inside. He leaves me on the floor and calmly makes his way to the door, closing it softly as if he’s a gentleman.It doesn’t matter that we are alone in the house. It doesn't matter that my mother does nothing to stop it. It doesn’t matter that I carry the shame and I don’t even dare to confide in the servants in this house. He makes sure to close the door as if the two inches of wood can hide the depravity within.Dominic Savage, you owe me one.