ANNOUNCEMENT/GIVEAWAY: Salvus, by R. Phoenix

QSFer R. Phoenix has a new MM omegaverse book out: “Salvus.”

Van doesn’t care if Omar is his fated mate — or whatever other bullshit the world believes in. He’s not going to be trapped in a relationship because the universe says he should be. Worse yet, Van’s not a huge fan of overbearing, entitled, pretentious alphas. Tired of living under the rule of alphas, he runs away to Salvus, a city governed by betas… only to discover that having their protection may not be as idyllic as it sounds…

Omar knows his mate hates him — or at least, Van hates what he is. Even though they have an explosive relationship centered around Omar helping Van through his heats, he still cares enough to agree to take Van to Salvus. But once his mate is gone, he discovers Salvus hides sinister secrets.

Mpreg, omegaverse (ABO — alpha/beta/omega)…

Get It At Amazon


Giveaway

R. Phoenix is giving away an eBook copy of “The Beast’s Beauty” with this post – comment below for a chance to win.


Excerpt

“I’m okay,” Van finally croaked out against his chest.Omar nodded, running his hand along the omega’s back, feeling the way his shirt stuck to his sweat-slicked skin. “I’ll get you some food when the knot goes down.”

Van sighed. “Do you have to knot me? It’s so…”

His words trailed off, and Omar didn’t want to finish the sentence for him.

It was so intimate.

They both knew it, but neither of them wanted to say the word.

“Maybe you should stop begging me to do it,” Omar retorted, sharper than he meant to.

“I’m not exactly in control,” Van snapped as he jabbed an angry fist against Omar’s shoulder in a futile gesture of bitter resentment. “You’re the fucking alpha. You’re responsible for this.”

Omar took the fact that Van had never actually tried to punch him in the face in these sorts of exchanges as a sign that he didn’t completely hate his guts, though the anger was always hard to stomach. Especially when all he wanted to do was laze and enjoy the aftermath of good, hard, fucking perfect sex.

“I don’t exactly have much control when you start coming around my cock. You’re not the only one whose instincts go fucking off,” he grouched back, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

“You don’t know shit about instincts,” Van snarled, trying to pull away from him, as if he could. The knot tugged at his ass and keep him tightly bound to Omar, unable to even face away from him.

Omar tried to remain calm, like a good alpha should. He tried to understand that Van was embarrassed by his own body, humiliated even. It wasn’t easy though, not with an antagonistic prick like Van.

The heat made omegas bitches to anyone who chose to sate their need, and they utterly lacked control. Alphas might’ve had trouble keeping it in their pants — and keeping their knots out of omegas’ sweet assholes — but it was nothing compared to their counterparts. He knew that much, at least in theory, but it wasn’t like Van was the only one who lost control.

Yet Van was the only one who got to feel victimized.

“Don’t I? I’m the one you keep using whenever yours get out of control, like I’m your personal fucking sex toy,” Omar snapped unkindly.

Van recoiled from him and his touch as though slapped, his already flushed cheeks turning a darker shade of red. “Get your dick out of me,” he hissed. “I don’t even want to look at you.”

“Too fucking bad,” Omar said, though his hand fell away from Van’s back.

The omega sat up, still locked to him even though he tried to pull away again. “This is all your fucking fault.”

“How is it my fault?” Omar demanded, aware he was about to piss Van off more. “You could’ve had Jacob instead of me, but you wanted me, remember? You texted me. You were ready to fuck him in the middle of the street. I got you away from that asshole, to safety and privacy, even to the fucking bed…! Fuck, Van. You begged me to knot you, and you want me to resist that too?” he muttered irritably, pretending he didn’t see how red with anger Van was slowly turning with every word. “By all standards, I’m a fucking saint. You should be thanking me.”

“This is why I fucking hate alphas,” Van snarled, glaring down at him. “You’re such entitled, arrogant pricks. You think I should be thanking you? Forgive you for your lack of control? You don’t get points for not violating me in the street!”

Omar’s knot started to shrink — thank fuck — and he unceremoniously pushed Van off of him. He withdrew with a plop, sending Van tumbling down onto the damp sheets beside him. “Fuck it. There’s no talking to you when you’re like this. I’ll bring you some fucking food,” he said coldly as he got up. “Just enjoy my bed until you need my cock again to sate your need, oh great omega.”

“Fuck off,” Van muttered, curling in on himself and tugging at the sheet.

Omar flashed him a chilly little smile, because he could be an antagonistic prick too if that was how Van wanted to play it. “Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. The only thing I’ll be fucking is you. You’re my omega, after all,” he sing-songed, even though the rage inside of him made it difficult to think clearly, let alone find ways to taunt Van.

The heat of Van’s glare could’ve caused another to quail, but Omar only gave him a smug, unimpressed look. “I’ll serve you like a good alpha, Your Majesty, but you’d better believe I’m not touching you until you fucking beg for my cock.”

Van’s cheeks were as red as a tomato. “You’re such a fucking dick.”

“Good thing all you need is dick,” Omar retorted, thinking quick for a change. He left before Van could snarl anything else unflattering to him and headed to the kitchen, slamming the bedroom door behind him. It was petty and childish, but he didn’t give a fuck. The omega had gotten under his skin again. It was always so clear after sex that they didn’t get along unless Van was in heat and incapable of speaking.

Why he always gave in to Van’s needy ass, he didn’t know. The sex wasn’t worth the verbal abuse from the ungrateful asshole, but the idea of leaving Van unsated or left to find other ways to quench his lust wrenched his gut.

He was as much a slave to his instincts as Van, in the end, bound as omegas and alphas and to that fucking bond between him and Van — his fated mate.

He hated it.

He hated Van for making this all so fucking difficult. They’d been doing this for long enough to where it shouldn’t have mattered anymore, but their exchanges took something out of him every single time.

He yanked the fridge open, only to be met by a dismally bare sight. A few beers, some browning lettuce, and a jar of pickles and mustard were all he had.

Omar hadn’t planned on seeing an omega through heat. He might have time to go to the store before Van went into another cycle… If he was quick, anyway.

But fuck it. The ungrateful little shit could wait. He was going to spoil said little shit to satisfy his heat anyway, so Van could suffer a little before getting to use his cock again.

He stalked back into the bedroom, flinging the door open and ignoring the omega in his bed. He yanked his closet door open and grabbed a clean shirt and pants. He was halfway through his wardrobe change when Van finally spoke from behind him.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice more subdued and apprehensive — and, Omar was almost pleased to note, a little anxious.

“To get you food,” Omar said, grabbing his shoes. “If that’s okay with Your Majesty.”

Van grimaced, flopping back onto the bed — next to the impressively large wet spot, Omar noticed. “Stop being such a prick,” Van grumbled.

Omar gave him a look of blatant disbelief and shook his head. “Sheets are in the hall closet. Make yourself useful for a change,” he muttered.

He could feel Van glaring at him as he exited the room again, but then, that was nothing new. He would get him fed and see him through his heat, like a good alpha should.

After all, he had principles.

Unlike Van.


Author Bio

R. Phoenix (code name: Raissa) has an unhealthy fascination with contrasts: light and dark, humor and pain, heroes and villains, order and chaos. She believes love can corrupt, power can redeem and that the best of intentions can cast shadows while the worst can create light. She agrees with those who say that the truth is best told through fiction — even though fiction has to make sense while reality can be utterly baffling.

She loves chatting with readers, though she often awkwardly rambles. No matter how much she tries to keep her bad and often perverted sense of humor in check, it seems to escape at the most inconvenient moments. (Thanks, universe.) Feel free to friend Raissa on Facebook and chat or send her an email!

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