Omega Mine- Search for a Soul Mate

  OMEGA MINE

  The Search for a Soul Mate

  by

  HALSEY HARLOW

  An Original Publication from Lucky Honey Books

  Written and published by Halsey Harlow

  Cover by Dar Albert

  Formatted by BB eBooks

  Copyright © 2018 by Lucky Honey Books

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. They should not be construed as real or related to any individual. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or people, living or dead, is strictly coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written consent from the author. Thank you.

  First Digital Edition, 2018

  ISBN: 9781626227729

  Can an Alpha find his dream Omega on reality TV?

  Alpha Hank Morrow is a bear shifter who has never found the right Omega. Without the steadying influence of a bond with his Omega, Hank’s powerful Alpha senses are beginning to overwhelm and endanger not only him, but his fellow police officers and the entire city of White Edge. The chief of police and the governor sign Hank up for a reality TV show to help unmatched Alphas find their dream Omega.

  Omega Mine: Search for a Soul Mate certainly isn’t Hank’s idea of a great plan, but he’s not given a choice. Now he’s off to a tropical island to meet over one hundred potential Omegas in a televised version of hell.

  Or is it?

  Evan Vaughn is an unmatched Omega. He and Hank have actually met once before at an Alpha-Omega mixer, but apparently he didn’t make much of an impression at the time. Will that change on the set of Omega Mine? And can anything real come out of a reality TV dating show? Hank and Evan are about to find out…

  The Bachelor meets Alpha-Omega romance!

  This book is nearly 40,000 words of an oblivious bear shifter finally meeting his match and a happy ending you’ll love!

  For B, with all my heart

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  About the Book

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  Sitting on the ground at the head of a circle carved into the surrounding jungle, a fire roaring in front of him, Hank was over-heated despite being shirtless. They were bringing in the omega applicants now. One by one they filed in front of him, some wearing somber, alert expressions, others smiling at him hopefully, and one dancing along to the drums, shaking his body to the sound, smiling up at the sky, not even looking toward Hank at all.

  Hank wiped a hand over his face, ostensibly to clear off the sweat that poured from him, but mainly to clear his sight of it all for a moment. The night was surreal, and he felt himself slipping a little, losing control of his reactions and senses; the fire flickered a little too rhythmically and the drums pulsed around him, he could easily slip into an Alpha trance and shift if he wasn’t careful.

  That was why he was here after all. He needed one of these idiots to keep Alpha trances and unpredictable shifts from happening on the job. He glanced around the fire at the now seated applicants, each one of them staring at him with wide, eager eyes. A few attempted a smile, and the one who’d been dancing joyfully on his own, grinned and bobbed his head to the beat.

  Hank sighed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to find an Omega on his own. He’d gone to those damn mixers that his non-shifter boss and chief of White Edge police, David, had insisted on arranging for him through the Omega Program at the local university.

  Was it Hank’s fault that the people who attended those weren’t for him? As he told David after the last mixer, “Two had a cat, another a dog…” Hank had a strict bias against an Omega with animals. His allergies and sensitivities, not mention potential of shifting into a predator, would necessitate the disposal of the animal and that seemed unnecessarily cruel. “Another smelled of Milk Bones, even though he did not have a dog…” Hank looked at David pointedly. “Do I even need to say it?”

  “Oh, yes, Hank, clearly a deviant,” David scoffed.

  Hank grunted and turned his back. “I just didn’t feel it,” he finally admitted. “I gotta feel it, David.”

  “Of course you gotta feel it, Hank,” David had said, slapping him on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t marry a woman unless I felt it, and Alphas shouldn’t take an Omega unless they feel it. I hear ya. The problem is, Hank, the council isn’t ‘feeling it’ either. They’ve taken it directly to the governor and word has come down that you need an Omega. You’re too big of a risk out on assignment any more without one.”

  “I know,” Hank said, wanting to dispute it, but the last time had been too close. He’d tranced and ten men had nearly died. Men with wives and children, men with moms and dads, or girlfriends or even boyfriends, dammit. Men with families. He shook his head and sat down at David’s office table.

  “Look, Hank,” David said, sitting across from him. “I know you aren’t going to like it, but, hear me out, okay? The governor has insisted, as a show of good faith, as a serious gesture to prove that you are really looking for an Omega and not just pretending to look—”

  “Pretending to look? For God’s sake, David, why would I do that?” Hank demanded.

  “You wouldn’t. But the governor doesn’t know that. And there’s more to it, I think. Ratings. Money.”

  “Ratings?”

  “Yes, ratings, Hank. They’ve got three other Alphas looking for Omegas. One Heather Kallet from Seattle, a tiger shifter, a Fong Wu from Paris, panther shifter, yes, I know rather unusual, but true all the same, and the last is…ahh,” David flipped through the packet of paper he held in his hands. “Cameron Cooper, a female mountain lion shifter, from Atlanta. All three have had an exceedingly difficult time ‘feeling it’, as you’ve put it, and all are in a position now where their future careers depend entirely on finding someone they can ‘feel it’ with.” David cleared his throat and looked at Hank pointedly. “Sound familiar?”

  Hank narrowed his eyes and said nothing.

  David went on. “What was it my ex-wife said to me once? Oh, yes. She said, ‘David, we live in an entertainment age.’ At the time she was talking about the blasted reporters trying to turn my murder case into a three-ring circus, but now I say it to you: Hank, we live in an entertainment age. Welcome to it.”

  He slapped down a packet in front of Hank.

  “What’s this?” Hank asked.

  “It’s your application. It’s already been submitted by the governor and you’ll be picked up on Thursday morning and flown to some sweet little island off the western coast of Mexico to participate in the first ever reality program featuring Alphas and Omegas.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “That’s entertainment, Hank. Take it or—”

  “I’ll leave it, thanks,” Hank said, shoving the packet back at David.

  “I was going to say, ‘Or kiss your career goodbye’.”

  David finished as he stood up, cocked his index finger at Hank like a gun, and then left the room, leaving Hank’s glare focused on the
glass of the still shuddering office door.

  Hank looked down at the glossy papers on the table. They were all imprinted with the same words: OMEGA MINE: THE SEARCH FOR A SOULMATE.

  “Thank you for participating in the new reality program sponsored by CBS and the U.S. Government,” Hank read aloud, before flinging the papers at the door. “Over my dead body.”

  And yet now here he sat, red paint smeared on his chest in a way that was nothing like his old friend and teacher Alpha Krushreet’s tribal decoration. Though how he could expect the bastards in charge of these shenanigans to have any idea about actual, real traditional shifter tribes, he didn’t know. The fire roared in front of him and the faces of thirty-five potential candidates gazed adoringly at him. He groaned under his breath at the crass naked hope that radiated from each of them.

  Warren, the emcee, or Man With the Microphone, as he’d introduced himself to Hank earlier, sat down beside him wearing a red t-shirt and khaki shorts. “How are you feeling, Hank?” Warren asked, smiling roguishly and shoving the microphone in Hank’s face. “Pretty excited?”

  Hank said, “I could think of other words.”

  “Yeah? I bet you could. It must be amazing to sit here looking at each of these attractive, smart, interesting young people and know that every one of them is here for you, Hank. How does that feel?”

  Damn creepy, Hank thought. “There are three other Alphas. I’m not the only one,” he said. “So they’re not here just for me.”

  “Right! Tonight, at three different sites on the island, far enough away to avoid territory issues, we have three other Alphas sitting at identical fires with another thirty-five faces staring at them as well. How do you imagine they’re feeling?”

  “Hot,” Hank said, wiping his face. “And tired.”

  Warren laughed. “Oh, Hank, ever the straight man in the comedy duo.”

  Hank gave a tight-lipped smile at that and turned his focus back to the faces around the fire. He didn’t see anyone of initial interest to him.

  Warren talked on. “That’s right, folks. Four Alphas with thirty-five applicants each. That’s one hundred and forty applicants for only four Omega positions.”

  Warren threw his arm around Hank’s shoulder and it was all Hank could do not to throw it off.

  “For those in our viewing audience at home who might not be aware, an Alpha is a man or a woman shifter, possessing the ability to change between their human form and an animal form—usually a wolf or a great cat, though some bear shifters, like Hank here, do exist. They’re also blessed with extraordinary sensory abilities, far beyond the normal human’s imagination. Those abilities allow them, no, compel them by forces written into their DNA to serve and protect their pack mates which are, luckily for us, made up of regular old homosapiens, like you and me. In other words, alphas are super-human.”

  Warren paused dramatically and Hank moved out from under Warren’s arm, glancing around, looking for a way out.

  Warren continued his explanation, “But nature has a way of balancing things out. For, you see, every Alpha needs an Omega, or he becomes a slave to his senses. He or she becomes unable to control them, and, as a result, can shift without warning or control. Thus they can become a danger to himself and the men who follow him into battle.”

  Hank looked at the large screen opposite showing the footage live as it aired. Warren’s voiceover was being intercut with footage of Hank by the fire, the applicants, and a ‘re-enactment’ of a police standoff going awry because the actor posing as the Alpha suddenly covered his eyes and began crying out, falling to the floor, and writhing there, computer generated fur bursting out of his cheeks and hands.

  Hank sneered, but his stomach twisted. As much as he wanted to dismiss what he’d seen as nothing more than bad acting, he remembered all too well the blood welling from Johnson’s abdomen after Hank’s vision had suddenly telescoped and then gone out entirely during the last bust he’d led. At least he hadn’t shifted.

  Warren talked on, “But finding an Omega isn’t an easy task. Oh, no, ladies and gentlemen, being an Omega requires so much more than just the skills required to perform in the field, such as using a fire arm, or basic self-defense; there must be a connection between Alpha and Omega, a connection those of us who are mere mortals—”

  Hank rolled his eyes. He was mortal for God’s sake.

  “Those of us who are mere mortals can barely imagine. A soul connection.”

  Hank looked at Warren in disgust. He didn’t like thinking about souls, much less soul connections. He wasn’t even sure he believed in such a thing. He just knew that when he met the person he wanted as his Omega, then he had to trust the person, completely, and he had to want them to know him in every way. And, some primitive part of him that he wanted to dismiss but simply couldn’t, knew that he’d want to fuck the person. And not just a regular old screw, either. But a deep, serious, intense, mind-blowing fuck. And he knew that he’d want to fuck his Omega like that as often as possible for the rest of his life.

  “Yes, that’s what this is, folks. That’s what these Alphas are here for. They’re looking for the one Omega for them. They might be different from us in many ways: better, stronger, faster. They might grow a fuzzy fur coat and run on four legs when they shift. But in one very intimate and important way they are just the same: they need love to light their way.”

  Hank covered his mouth and coughed at Warren’s syrupy nonsense.

  Love? It wasn’t love. It was something else. He couldn’t describe it. He wasn’t great with words, but love was what he’d felt for his ex-wife before it’d gone south. No, whatever he’d have with his Omega was something deeper than that, and as he looked out at the faces flickering with firelight, he knew he wasn’t going to find it in any one of them. The person he chose for his Omega? They’d never look at him like that.

  “And now we’ll go to Margaret in Alpha Kallet’s camp. Margaret? How’s it going over there?”

  The moment they were no longer on the air, Warren stood up and walked away. Hank heaved a sigh of relief, grateful to be escorted from the fire and into the air-conditioned resort. He would’ve been happy to go on to bed, wake up the next morning to a nice breakfast of fruit and bagels, and then hop the next flight back to White Edge.

  Instead, he was told to prepare himself for the meet and greet portion of the evening.

  CHAPTER TWO

  An hour and a half later, Hank had his shirt on. That was an improvement, at least.

  He looked around the resort’s ballroom, which CBS and the government had spent way too much money on in order to make it look like a jungle. Which made no sense because he was a bear shifter, and his animal preferred a mountainous, evergreen forest. Not this nonsense. He felt hemmed in and caged.

  Everywhere he turned he saw only face after open, eager, face floating on an endless sea of noise. There were shoes scuffling, tapping, and moving. There were fingers cracking and popping in nervous tics, noses being blown, hiccups being fought off, and loud bursts of voices, all accompanying the thick and pervasive scent of excitement and worry.

  It was all too much, and it seemed like the evening would never be over. Hank was desperate to slip away from the men and women who followed him relentlessly, attempting to anticipate his needs before he could even think of them. He held up his hand to prevent a group of them from following him any further once he reached the door he’d been searching for and said, “I think I can make in to use the facilities on my own, thanks. A little privacy, please.”

  The bathroom was like heaven, quiet and dimly lit. The noise from the crowd drifted under the door in waves of sound that rushed around his feet. He could tolerate that, even relax into the pull of it a little. He sat his drink on the flat edge of one of the big, bowl-shaped enamel sinks and sank down into one of the soft chairs beside them.

  He sighed deeply and put his head back. God, this was hell. Pure and simple. Women and men tugging at him, asking him to smell them, smili
ng at him with intent, talking to him, asking questions, wanting answers, he didn’t know how things could get much worse.

  The flush of the toilet surprised him, but only a little. He realized that he’d been unconsciously aware that there was a person who’d just urinated in the stall, but it hadn’t registered enough to bother him. He lifted his head and watched with amusement as the kid with long, curly, brown hair, the one who’d danced around the fire, jumped in surprise to see Hank sitting there.

  “Jeez, man!” The kid yelped, a hand going instinctively to his chest, and his eyes flying wide. “Make a little noise or something!”

  Hank fought a smile and said, “My apologies. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Right,” the guy said, going to the sink to wash his hands. “Of course not. Apology accepted.”

  As he washed thoroughly, Hank studied him.

  He wasn’t a kid, really, Hank supposed. Probably thirty years old, more or less. Still, something about him struck Hank as kid-like, and he didn’t change Hank’s opinion when he pulled several paper towels out of the dispenser to wipe his hands, saying, “Paper, funny thing about paper—used to be everyone was worried about using too much paper, so they put those hand blowers in everywhere. You know those hand blowers, man?” He curved one hand and stuck the other under it, making a loud lawn-mower type noise. “Loud as anything. I’m sure you noticed. They promoted them like the end-all and be-all of progressive public bathroom design. They said they were cleaner and cost less and saved trees. Win-win for the whole world!”

  The kid threw his hands up and tipped his head back in a gesture of exalted victory. Then he tipped his head back down, still smiling, and said, “Anyway, now they say that they’re disease vectors that just blow the germs around, and if the filters aren’t changed enough, and you know how it is, man, they never are, then they are basically nothing more than ebola outbreaks waiting to happen! That’s the way it always is—cultures adapt and change and then return to old ways.” He held up the paper towels in his hands as evidence.