The Omni-Wolf’s Choice novel Chapter 26

Chapter 26 An escape…

Bridget’s POV

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“Greetings, my gorgeous mate. I’ve been waiting centuries for you. I am St. Vincent.”

The speaker is a vampire-no question. The fangs aren’t subtle, and neither is the way he looks at me, like I’m a prize he intends to collect. Great. Another creature who thinks my abilities belong to them. I never imagined I’d become this kind of sought-after.

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” I say, keeping my tone gentle, making myself sound harmless.

I’m still a wolf. Bigger than most, sure, but he’s already proven he can hear the mind-link.

His gaze slides over my silver-white coat. “Why don’t you shed that lovely fur and come back to your

human skin,” he drawls. “I’d like a proper look at those curves.”

He wets his lips, and nausea climbs my throat. Salt-and-pepper hair, neatly swept. A thick mustache. And teeth that look like they’ve been buried in more throats than I want to imagine. Not mine.

“Change,” he barks.

I jolt on purpose, playing frightened.

‘Then at least give me something to cover up,’ I send through the link.

A sharp exhale. A snap of his fingers.

A second vampire appears as if he’s been waiting in the shadows, holding a white silk robe.

“Nothing but the finest,” St. Vincent says, voice turning smug. “For the future mother of my many children.” He arches a brow. “And we won’t stop until I have as many fledglings as I decide.”

He drags his hand along my jawline, stroking fur like I’m a pet.

Bite him. The urge is immediate.

Don’t.

I need a way out-or at least time. Ryder will come. The spell won’t hold forever. He can track me. He

can smell me. He has to find me.

Unless I’m wrong.

Unless Ryder actually wants Aurelia.

An Alpha. I’d smelled it on her-strong, clean, sure. Someone who fits his world. Someone raised the

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< Chapter 26 An escape

way he was, trained the way he was. Their families probably line up neatly together.

And me?

No parents. Foster system. Powers I’m still wrestling into obedience.

Her life looks like a polished blade. Mine looks like a mess.

‘St. Vincent… turn around. Please,’ I ask, keeping the meek act in place.

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“No,” he says flatly. “Shift now, or I stop pretending to be polite. Either way, this happens. You only get

to choose how.”

I breathe out and reach for Mystique. ‘Hey. I’m sorry. I got us into this. I need you to let us change

back.’

‘We’re together in this,’ she answers. ‘Always.’

Mystique shifts with me. I wait for the agony the books always promise.

It never comes.

Another gift. Of course.

St. Vincent lets out a low whistle as my human body settles in. I clamp my hands over myself, trying to

cover what I can.

He makes a sound of annoyance. “Please. Don’t act innocent. You’re not a virgin.”

“If I am or I’m not,” I snap, “it doesn’t give you permission to stare like I’m a discount cut of meat. The

robe. Now.”

So much for playing sweet.

He has tossed the robe to the ground, forcing me to bend for it. Humiliation-on purpose.

He steps close again, voice turning intimate and vicious. “I’ll mark you so thoroughly you won’t remember anyone else existed before me.”

Then his fingers tilt my head, turning it side to side as if inspecting bruises.

I wrench away.

“A shame,” he clicks his tongue. “Looks like that Alpha mutt never finished the job. I’ll correct that. And

then I’ll tell him, slowly, everywhere I put my fangs before I kill him.”

“You won’t live long enough to try,” I say.

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His smile is pleased. “That temper. Good. I’ll enjoy breaking it.”

He gestures like the matter is settled. “We’re going back to camp. I want you washed before mating. Then we leave for Transylvania. You’ll adore it.”

I stay silent.

There is no universe where I’m crossing oceans with this walking corpse.

He shackles my wrists and ankles in silver.

It should burn.

It doesn’t.

St. Vincent watches, visibly fascinated, like my lack of reaction is a new toy. Excitement flickers

behind his eyes. He’s already imagining what hybrids with me could mean-daylight, strength,

advantages. Some of our pack can do things like that already, but no one outside is supposed to

know.

We march for roughly half an hour.

The camp is small and ugly, filled with rogues who look half-starved and badly managed. Eyes turn as we arrive-some hostile, some hungry, some amused. I wonder what they were offered to help deliver

Near the back are more vampires. Their stares are worse-slick with lust.

As we reach a short set of rough wooden steps, I’m lifted and carried up the three planks like cargo.

St. Vincent raises a hand, demanding silence, and the noise settles.

“Everyone,” he announces, “we have found what we came for. You will all receive what you are owed.”

His nail hooks under my chin and forces my face up. It almost pierces skin. I can’t pull away.

Cheers erupt from rogues and vampires alike.

“I’ll have our prize made ready,” he continues. “Enjoy the royal feast. Eat. Drink. Dance. Celebrate. Tonight is ours!”

They roar approval-still looking at me like I’m part of the meal.

He drags me into the main tent and the curtains fall shut behind us.

Inside: warmth, perfume, candlelight.

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A claw-foot tub sits to the side, and two vampire women are pouring hot water into it. Lavender oil is added until the air becomes thick with it.

I scan the space fast, memorizing exits and angles.

Red rugs cover the floor. Candles glow everywhere. There’s a rear opening-good.

A bed sits opposite the tub.

Goddess, don’t make me kill him next to that.

St. Vincent settles into a chair beside the bath, crossing one leg with leisurely arrogance. A tray of fruit

is set within reach. He drops grapes into the steaming water like it’s a joke.

“Get in.”

I obey, because I’m not ready to die yet.

One vampire loosens my robe. Another helps guide me into the heat. St. Vincent watches every inch

with the patience of a predator.

The bulge in his pants makes my stomach turn.

I grip the sides of the tub, muscles rigid.

A vampire pulls my hair down and begins rinsing it, pouring water over my scalp in slow, practiced

motions.

I can’t relax. I can’t blink for too long.

“What did you promise them?” I ask him. “What’s their reward?”

He flicks a hand and the attendants withdraw, leaving us with only the candles and the water and his

gaze.

“You,” he says simply.

His eyes drift to where my breasts break the surface of the steam.

“They want to f-you. I told them if they helped me claim what belongs to me, they’d get a taste.”

I keep my breathing steady.

He cannot do that.

And if he tries, I will turn this entire camp into bodies.

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Then he speaks again, almost soothing. “Relax, sweetheart. I won’t share you.” His voice is calm, as if he’s explaining etiquette. “I can’t risk one of them getting you pregnant first. That would be such a waste.”

My mind goes blank with shock.

“I’ll have my vampires kill them all,” he continues, unbothered. “Then we return tomorrow. Once you’re mine, perhaps I’ll let you entertain me. For my eyes only.”

He leans back, satisfied. “You will be mine. For the next hundred years.”

I stare at him, unable to form words.

“Finish,” he orders. “I’ll have a gown brought. I love watching you move when you’re naked. I can’t wait

to taste you.”

A vampire arrives with an outfit in gold and red-barely fabric, mostly straps pretending to be a dress.

St. Vincent stays seated, watching.

Two vampire women dress me with smiles meant to win favor. He doesn’t look at them once.

A third-male-braids my hair into a single French braid.

When they’re done, St. Vincent stands and motions them away. They retreat instantly.

He circles me, nails skating over my skin in light, scraping touches that make my body want to flinch.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “Gifts beyond measure. It will be an honor to claim you.”

He bends close, breath brushing my ear.

Then shouting cuts through the tent.

“Sire!” a man calls from outside.

Relief hits me so hard I almost sway.

“Damn it,” St. Vincent snarls, coat whipping around him as he strides for the entrance. “What.”

Voices rise beyond the fabric.

“We want to know when we get our prize!” someone yells. “When do we get our turn with her?”

“Yeah!” others shout, piling on.

Every vampire in the tent shifts their attention toward the argument.

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That’s it.

That’s my sliver.

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I inch toward the back curtain, moving like I’m just repositioning, like I belong here.

‘Mystique. Shift. Now.’

I slip through the rear opening.

Outside, the night is nearly lightless. Shapes move. I feel rogues nearby-too close.

Mystique takes over and fur explodes across skin.

We bolt.

The woods swallow us in seconds.

We make it only a few feet before I feel him-darkness with a pulse-closing fast.

The rogues reach me first.

Teeth snap at my heel.

Another body slams into me, jaws clamping into my thigh.

Pain rips through me and I scream.

And then St. Vincent is there.

He hits me like a storm, driving me into a tree with bone-jarring force. Without even looking, his free

hand twists and snaps the neck of the wolf that bit me.

I explode into motion, clawing at him with everything I have.

He holds me at arm’s length like I’m nothing, letting me wear myself out. My strikes open shallow

wounds-nothing more.

They knit back together as he watches.

He laughs.

“It appears you aren’t the only one with gifts, my sweet mate.”

I keep slashing-arms, throat, face-until my lungs burn. Mystique and I are smaller than this ancient

monster, but we are not weak.

He sounds almost amused. “Adorable. You’re trying so hard.”

<Chapter 26 An escape…

Then he grunts through my last few blows. “Give it up. You won’t win.”

I still my claws.

He can hear the link. Good.

‘I wasn’t trying to win,’ I tell him. ‘I was buying time.’

Something massive flashes past-jet-black, moving so fast it’s nearly a blur.

It slams into St. Vincent with enough force that if I blink, I miss the impact.

Talon.

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