Forbidden Flame: A Dark Mafia Omegaverse Fated-Mates Romance Novella (Ruthless Warlords) Read online

  Forbidden Flame

  A Dark Mafia Omegaverse Fated-Mates Novella

  Alison Aimes

  Orchid Publishing

  Contents

  Forbidden Flame Blurb

  The Alphaverse

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Epilogue and Ruthless King Excerpt

  Stolen Excerpt

  Trapped Excerpt

  Acknowledgments

  Books By Alison Aimes

  About Alison Aimes

  Thank you

  Forbidden Flame Blurb

  He’s out for revenge. She’s out to escape. Neither intends to fall in love.

  His instructions are simple: do not open the bag.

  To escape exile and enact revenge, Alpha crime boss Magnus Avitus agrees to play the part of errand boy. But when the volatile package he’s been tasked with delivering begins to squirm, he has to take a peek.

  He never expects to come face-to-face with her. Or to have everything inside him roar “mine.”

  Her plans are simple: escape the bag.

  But when omega Amora Rose’s prison is unpacked before she can free herself, she finds herself claimed by a ferocious, scarred Alpha who makes her heart whisper “mine.”

  Except she has a secret that’s about to send all their simple plans up in flames.

  Forbidden Flame is a scorching-hot, standalone novella in the Dark Mafia Omegaverse Fated-Mates world of the Ruthless Warlords series.

  Like the other stories in this world it contains:

  A ruthless alien mafia boss

  A strong heroine

  A fated Alpha-omega bond

  Plenty of hot and filthy omegaverse action

  And an epic romance that proves forbidden love can triumph over hate.

  If you like your love stories DARK and KNOTTED, Forbidden Flame will heat you up and leave you oh-so-satisfied. There is no cliffhanger, and a HOT happily-ever-after is guaranteed.

  The Alphaverse

  This story takes place in Anarcheim, a parallel Alphaverse galaxy in a dark future seeded with varied forms of alien life. There are, however, two immutable constants. The first is that all inhabitants are Alpha, beta, or omega. Alphas lead, betas serve, and omegas submit. That is the way. The second is that violence is a way of life, power is essential to survival, and crime is king.

  1

  “Where is the package?” Exiled Alpha, Magnus Avitus, pressed the tip of his black retractable claw against the trembling smuggler’s throat.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re simple galaxy trotters en route to the Approved Sector to see its wonders for ourselves.” Pinned to the side of his own shuttle, the male spoke fast, his gaze flickering to the jagged scar that ran from Magnus’s eyebrow to mid-cheek before tracking the kaleidoscope of light gold wounds and laser burns that splattered across the black-metallic of his flesh like spilled paint.

  Magnus knew it wasn’t a pretty sight. But betrayal never was.

  “W-We just thought it would be interesting to take a quick look at the Forbidden Sector on the way.” Even in the sweltering dark of Romealon’s near starless sky, it was easy to see the gleam of terror in the weaker Alpha’s reptilian eyes. And scent the lie on his scaled skin.

  “W-We mean you no harm.” The male’s gaze flickered to his companions. The two males were on their knees in the dirt, their three-fingered hands clasped behind their long necks—lasers pointed at the back of their heads by Magnus’s associates, Pavel and Axel.

  “Too bad we can’t say the same.” Magnus pressed his forearm deeper into the male’s larynx, sending the other male’s pinhead knocking against the cargo hold. “This wasteland is hardly on anyone’s top ten tourist destinations.”

  As if to prove his point, a swamp beast hunting nearby howled.

  While the Approved Sector was a wonder of ingenuity and advancement encased in a secure, heavily guarded golden bubble that kept the filtered air clean and the temperatures inside moderate, the Forbidden Sector was the exact opposite.

  Unplanned, unregulated, lawless, it was six hundred thousand hectares of swamp, crumbling ruins, and rotting trash. Whatever the citizens of the capital didn’t want, they dumped outside the dome into the Forbidden Sector.

  A practice that included living beings too.

  Since his uncle had taken over the ruling of the planet, the latter policy had skyrocketed exponentially.

  Most of the recently banished Alphas and betas had been exiled for some crime or another, including Magnus himself, though that wasn’t a prerequisite. Some just got dumped here because they were too ambitious or saw something they shouldn’t have.

  No omegas though. Under his uncle’s rule, if they were found guilty of a crime, they were taken straight to the pleasure houses for a life sentence that was arguably even more hellish than a stay in the Forbidden Sector—and that was saying something.

  “W-We didn’t know it would be this bad out here,” whispered the prisoner, “or we wouldn’t have come.”

  Magnus suspected that was the first truth the male had told.

  But the rest of the male’s words were as fraudulent as the unfolded maps and shiny, unused tourist gear stacked in the shuttle’s windows to match their cover story.

  In truth, all legitimate arrivals and departures occurred directly within the dome and were monitored by the Avitus family guards. Only shuttles transporting contraband cargo took their chances in the Forbidden Sector. Its vast wastelands made it appear easy for someone to land, sneak in through one of the underground entrances to the capital, and deliver the merchandise without anyone the wiser.

  But Magnus was monitoring things now.

  And whatever this particular package was, Magnus’s bastard of an uncle had chosen to have it sent to him through smugglers rather than official channels.

  Which meant Septimus clearly didn’t want anyone knowing he was about to obtain it.

  Which meant Magnus wanted it real bad.

  “We both know you’re here to deliver a weapon to the new head crime boss of the Approved Sector.” He cut to the chase. “Except now, you’re going to give it to me.”

  The smuggler’s greenish scaled skin paled to a sickly yellow. “I can’t. He’ll kill me.”

  Magnus drove his claw an inch into the smuggler’s throat and watched the beads of blue blood well from the wound. “I’d worry more about me if I were you.”

  The muffled creak of metal sounded at Magnus’s back.

  Horns snapping straight, he whipped halfway around and, still holding his thrashing prisoner to the cargo hold, snapped his wrist, sending his electro-charged starblade toward the idiot trying to sneak up on him.

  He wondered when the sniper they’d hidden behind a cluster of rusted out metal would finally attack. Magnus had scented the nervous, soon-to-be-dead male a while ago.

  His favorite hardware rotated as it soared, cutting lengthwise across the throat of the attacker before spinning back in a wide arc.

  The blade had already returned to Magnus’s hand by the time the attacker crumpled to the dirt.

  The two males on their knees cursed.

  Pavel laughed. Axel just grunted, like always. The male was not a big communicator. But both males were viciou
s fighters when required.

  Fangs flashing, done pissing around, Magnus shoved his nose into his prisoner’s terrified face. “Where. Is. The. Package?”

  “Inside the second cargo hold. Hidden beneath the third-floor panel. Password to open the storage bay is 2-2-7-A-5-9.” The guy couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

  “Pavel, check it out.”

  “Me? Axel hasn’t done shit yet, boss.” The three piercings in Pavel’s lip glittered as his chin jutted in the direction of the beast of a male standing by his side. “I’m the one who dropped these two fuckers. I’m also the one who intercepted the communications that let us know when these idiots would arrive with the package and where they’d be landing.”

  “Screw you.” For Axel, Magnus’s other second, that was a major diatribe.

  Magnus fought the urge to rip both their heads off and retrieve the package himself.

  As first-wavers who’d been banished by Septimus in secret even before he officially took over as head of the Avitus syndicate, Axel and Pavel had survived in the Forbidden Sector longer than most. They also had almost as much hate for Magnus’s uncle as he did.

  But both males could be serious pains in the ass. Before Magnus’s arrival thirteen months ago, they’d been members of warring gangs whose constant battles for territory and scraps had made the lives of those stuck in the Forbidden Sector hells and brought the average life expectancy down to a few years at best. East End males like Pavel gave themselves ritualistic blood-red symbols on their faces and hands. West End gangbangers like Axel showed their allegiance with black swirling skin designs and intricate rings sewn into their arms and chest. In Magnus’s view, it was all a lot of show with little substance.

  He’d had crushed the two most prominent warring Alpha gang leaders and forced their fighters to unify under his leadership. He’d commandeered the beta servants for his own personal use as well. They’d all fallen in line surprisingly well—almost as if they’d been waiting for someone new to follow—but given the exiled Alphas general tendencies toward lawlessness and anti-social behavior, he was still working out a few kinks.

  Like how to work together effectively as a team.

  Growling low, he pinned the two males with a menacing stare. “One of you check it the hells out before I rip off both of your heads and find myself two other seconds to handle my shit.”

  Pavel sighed but did as he was told.

  Not exactly the caliber of soldier Magnus had commanded when he’d been heir to the Avitus throne, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  Two more howls echoed through the night air, louder than before.

  “Now!” A sudden growl was followed by a blur of movement from the dirt.

  With Pavel gone, one smuggler lunged for Axel’s gun while the other went for a hidden knife in his boot.

  Axel crushed the first one’s head with his fist and then shot the other, all without making a sound.

  Meanwhile, the guy Magnus kept pinned to the side of the shuttle wouldn’t stop heaving.

  Thankfully, Pavel was back in less than two minutes. He surveyed the new bodies without comment before dumping an unexceptional black, oblong-shaped sack about the length of a leg at Magnus’s scuffed boots.

  “What the hells is that?”

  “The only thing in the hidden storage bay.” Pavel stared at the sack too. He’d lost one horn at some point in his life, and the jagged edges of the stump twitched as if the rest of it was still there. “Not what you expected?”

  Magnus looked closer at the bag.

  The comms Pavel had intercepted had referred to a powerful weapon so, yes, he’d expected the package to look like more than a dirty lump pulled from the bottom of a space trash receptacle.

  Thanks to the incessant heat and humidity of the Forbidden Sector, a bead of sweat rolled down his spine and disappeared beneath the traditional Romealon black and burgundy cloth that rode low on his hips.

  Or maybe it was the stakes that had him sweating.

  He really wanted to get a hold of this package before his uncle did.

  He pressed his forearm harder into his prisoner’s throat. “Playing with me and my men is a bad idea.”

  The male’s eyes bulged. “I’m not. Th-That’s the package. I swear.”

  Magnus reassessed.

  “Please. It was just supposed to be a simple job. Obtain the package. Deliver the package. Get paid.” The male was near to blubbering.

  “Tell me the instructions you were given.”

  “We were told to deliver the package to the Approved Sector’s fifth entrance tomorrow at early light. The crime boss Septimus would be waiting with a team to inspect the merchandise and ensure it was in good condition. Once this was determined, we would be paid.”

  Magnus studied the male, looking for signs of deception. “What else?”

  The male gulped. “O-only that we were not to open the bag on pain of death. We were warned the contents were extremely dangerous and volatile and should not be handled under any circumstances.” The male’s gaze flicked to the bodies of his companions. “That’s it. I swear.”

  Magnus nodded. “Only one way to find out for sure.” He turned toward his seconds. “We’ll take both and return to the castle.”

  “No, please,” pleaded the smuggler. “I told you everything I know,”

  Magnus ignored him. “Best to move out before the swamp beasts arrive. They’ll have smelled the blood and will be hungry.”

  The prisoner shut up and stopped struggling.

  Magnus shoved the male in Pavel’s direction. “You deal with him.”

  Leaning down, he scooped up the bag. For some reason, he felt compelled to keep it close.

  The thing was surprisingly light.

  Once more, he wondered what the hells kind of weapon could be inside.

  “Axel, grab the shuttle keys, and let’s head back to the castle.”

  The label castle was probably a stretch for his current abode, but it wasn’t completely false advertising. The place did have turrets, and it had once been home to royalty. A few generations ago, before the wars, it had probably been nice to look at. Now, however, it was mostly ruins, but at least it had a roof and a bed.

  He stepped over one of the down bodies and, holding the bag close to his chest, took one final look at the shiny, top of the line shuttle that indicated the smugglers had been running a nice, profitable business before they’d been stupid enough to cross his path.

  “Remind me to spread the word.” He told his seconds. “This transpo belongs to me now and I don’t like to share.”

  2

  “Are you sure we should open it?” Pavel peered at the package at Magnus’s feet.

  “Yes.” Magnus took a final bite of his roasted swamp beast meat—they weren’t the only predator in the area good at hunting—and signaled for a nearby beta servant to take the plate away.

  Sitting amidst the flickering torches mounted on the wall, he felt a bit like roasted swamp beast himself. The damned flames only added to the sweltering heat and humidity, but there was no electricity in the Forbidden Sector. No running water either.

  But banishment wasn’t supposed to be a pleasure shuttle cruise.

  Pavel’s missing horn twitched in the firelight. “I could have sworn we heard the package was extremely dangerous and volatile and should not be handled under any circumstances.”

  “True enough.” Mining for patience, Magnus shifted on his makeshift throne, a less than impressive chair cobbled together from rusted ore and thrown away parts.

  At his words, a murmur rose from the fifty or so Alphas who’d crowded in the hall and were currently squatting on the floor or leaning against its crumbling walls.

  They’d heard news of his successful return and come in droves, as curious as he was about the weapon inside.

  He’d tried to suggest they find somewhere else to put their asses—he wasn’t such a megalomaniac he needed to be the only one sitting in a chair to p
rove he was in charge—but his suggestion had been met with shrugs, so he’d let it go.

  Once he was reinstalled as head crime boss of the Approved Sector and his name cleared for the murder of his father, he’d be out of here and these folks would move on to following someone else or return to killing each other.

  In the meantime, if they wanted to sit in the dirt, so be it.

  The captured smuggler was there as well, chained to the leg of Magnus’s chair. The scumbag wasn’t telling all he knew and until he did, he’d stay right there.

  “You understand the plan, right?” Magnus returned his attention to Pavel—and Axel, since for better or worse, Magnus needed both of their support to carry out his plans. “We intercept the weapon, pretend to be the smugglers, and use the excuse of delivering the package to draw my uncle out.”

  “Right,” Pavel spoke while Axel nodded. “Then, you kill him.”

  “Exactly. We all get our revenge. Plus, you get shipments of supplies and universal dollars.” A roar went up among the Alphas in the room. Magnus spoke over them. “I get the chance to clear my name and reclaim my rightful place as ruler of the Approved Sector.”

  Magnus wondered if his twin brother Tarquin would be with his uncle when he came for the weapon and if Magnus would have to kill him too.

  Either way, he would be ready.

  “But,” Magnus decided it was smart to make sure his current army had connected all the dots, “if we don’t have the weapon, Septimus won’t come.” He paused to let his words sink in. “So, we have to make sure whatever is inside that bag is the weapon and get our friend here to confirm it is. Got it?”