Only Perfect Omegas: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance Series (Rebel Werewolves Book 1) Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Description

  The Three Werewolf Princes

  Copyright

  Books in the Rebel Verse

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Only Pretty Betas

  You May Also Enjoy

  Appendix One Witch Covens

  Appendix Two Characters

  Appendix Three Wolf Kingdoms

  About Rosemary A Johns

  Other Books By Rosemary

  Omega Prince Moon

  ONLY PERFECT OMEGAS

  REBEL WEREWOLVES BOOK ONE

  I was warned…

  …don’t fall for the sinfully beautiful werewolves.

  But even a badass witch can’t resist three scorching hot shifters, even if they’re my deadly enemy in an ancient war.

  They call me the Crimson Tide. I’m the last of the Wolf Charmers: hunted witches whose magical powers control wolves.

  As a witch hiding from my dark past – and the murder of my parents by werewolves – I must survive by one rule:

  # Rule 1: Never trust the angelic perfection of an Omega

  Unlucky for the Oxford coven who call me back home from America, I suck at following rules. When I’m forced to claim three gorgeous British shifter princes from rival Wolf Kingdoms, I can’t help loving and protecting them as pack, even if they hold their own dangerous secrets.

  Yet the deeper I tumble into the mysterious world of pretty monsters, the further I spiral into sinister peril.

  Am I right to trust an Omega? Has my whole life been a lie?

  When my aunt’s cruel coven and the bullying Alphas test my Wolf Charmer powers, I’ll either discover what I’m capable of and who I truly am…

  …or I’ll die.

  THE THREE WEREWOLF PRINCES

  ONLY PERFECT OMEGAS: REBEL WEREWOLVES BOOK ONE © copyright 2019 Rosemary A Johns

  www.rosemaryajohns.com

  Copyright notice: All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Fantasy Rebel Limited

  BOOKS IN THE REBEL VERSE

  REBEL ANGELS - COMPLETE SERIES

  COMPLETE SERIES BOX SET: BOOKS 1-5

  VAMPIRE HUNTRESS

  VAMPIRE PRINCESS

  VAMPIRE DEVIL

  VAMPIRE MAGE

  VAMPIRE GOD

  VAMPIRE SECRET: REBELS AND RENEGADES

  REBEL VAMPIRES - COMPLETE SERIES

  COMPLETE SERIES BOX SET BOOKS 1-3

  BLOOD DRAGONS

  BLOOD SHACKLES

  BLOOD RENEGADES

  STANDALONE NOVELLA - BLOOD GODS

  REBEL WEREWOLVES

  ONLY PERFECT OMEGAS

  ONLY PRETTY BETAS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Behind the moon-pale wall that divided visitors from trainees, lurked beasts with beautiful faces.

  Only perfect Omegas, promised the oak sign.

  If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have thought that I was shifting on the throne-like seat in the freezing waiting room of an elite Werewolf Academy, except for the disinfectant stench and the bars on the window.

  Plus, boy did I know better.

  I wet my dry lips, scuffing my buckled boots against the floor and tucking my red hair behind my ear.

  Hold it together, Crimson, you’re here to choose a wolf to be yours, not to be eaten.

  Yet the powers inside, which I’d inherited from my mom and were the only thing that I’d had since her death to hold onto as hers, swirled in scarlet shadows, curling protectively around me against the prickling sensation of so many wolf shifters — to give them the official witch name.

  My fingers dug into my knees and sweat dampened the back of my neck, as my breath became ragged. Because there was one thing you learned when you were born into the House of Silver: witches were real, and so were wolf shifters. Although, they were really only two sides of the same coin for me: A Wolf Charmer.

  Wolf Charmers were the only witches who could control wolf shifters like puppets with their crimson shadows, as well as forging a magical bond with the wolves who they claimed as their Charms.

  I was the last Wolf Charmer left in the world, so that didn’t come with any pressure then, especially when wolves had been our enemy for centuries.

  My shadows stroked down my sides, until I arched into their touch, sighing. On the opposite wall, a bank of screens showed ranks of guys, all of them as hot as the sun but fair as the moon.

  They’d been laid out like a box of chocolates for me.

  I flushed, crossing my legs. How could these men, who looked no older than me, be the enemy?

  A Wolf Charmer claimed a shifter as their Charm traditionally when they turned twenty-one, but I’d hoped that I’d never have to go through with the ritual, since wolves had slaughtered my parents when I was eleven.

  My aunt and uncle had raised me in America amongst the non-magical — since my uncle was some sort of tech genius, I’d been the lonely English charity case in a world of East Hampton billionaires — and amongst a society of masks and lies, one of the worst was that the wolf shifters had been wiped out after the Wolf War, apart from a handful of outlaws…like the ones who’d killed my parents. Except, here I was, summoned back across the Atlantic to Oxford and a thriving British Wolf Kingdom. Omegas, Betas, and Alphas…all controlled by witches in England.

  Because we’d won the war.

  Time to claim your sexy wolf. I’ll even gift wrap! :) Ste X

  I scowled down at the text from my English witch aunt, Stella, which had set everything in motion. I didn’t know why I’d expected something more dramatic.

  An owl, perhaps?

  I stuffed the phone back into my pocket, as the wide doors swung open and Stella burst in — a whirlwind of bronze velvet and fiery curls. Her silvery gray eyes were sharp and knowing.

  When Stella caught my hands and twirled me around, I laughed.

  “Look at you, pretty peach.” Stella winked. “Are you ready to choose your birthday present?”

  “Can I return it?” I raised my eyebrow.

  Stella tutted. “How else will you be
come a full Wolf Charmer and learn to control your powers? You’re not choosing an Omega to love…” She smacked her lips together as if trying to get rid of a bad taste. “Think of it more as a guard mutt with benefits. Whichever wolf pack decided to sink their fangs into your parents,” when I winced, her gaze softened, “we need to make sure that you’re strong enough to stop them tasting you.”

  I glanced away from her. Why did Stella want me back in England?

  For years, I’d dreamed of being called home to Oxford and accepted amongst the covens, but that was when I’d been a bullied High School kid, rather than the successful owner of my own art gallery. And it’d been way before I’d realized that my aunt only wanted me back to fulfill a Wolf Charmer tradition that risked my life. I didn’t want to cower from wolves or battle them either. I’d fought to build a life of my own in America and what did I have now? Who was I here?

  I tried to hide the tremble in my hands as I pulled away. “Just what I wanted: death threats and my own wolf.”

  Stella smirked. “Exciting, right?” Then she traced her finger over my lips. “And he’ll only be a wolf for one night a month. For the rest, think of him as a battery powered—"

  “Aunt Stella!” I blushed.

  Stella blinked with mock innocence. “Tell me that the crimson tide inside doesn’t want to bully him…”

  “Control,” I whispered, as the shadows rose and fell in an agitated swell: my powers ached for their Charm. I could taste the Omegas on the other side of the door. I needed them. I’d never felt my Wolf Charmer powers so strongly before. “It’s messed up, but that’s what I want; I can sense it…”

  Stella shrugged, carelessly. “The same thing, isn’t it?” She linked her arm with mine. “Now, you can’t discover the beast to your beauty hiding out here. You need to inspect the goods. Just remember that the wolves are princes at diplomacy.” She rapped the sign with her knuckle, and it shook. “Not all Omegas are perfect.”

  I snorted. “Oh, I’m aware that they’re dangerous.”

  Stella’s lips twisted. “Say that when you’ve seen their sinful bodies and wickedly angelic eyes.”

  “Sinful, wicked, and seriously freaking hot. But they’re also shifters, and I’ll never mistake one of those for perfect.”

  I was breathing too fast…my chest ached…my vision became blurry…

  Holy hell…

  Then Stella’s arm wrapped around me, as she murmured soothing words. Finally, the world righted.

  I took deep breaths, before I nodded. “These are the dicks who ruined my life. I’ll pick one like a new pair of heels, but that means I’m stepping on his loser ass — he won’t step on me.”

  Stella barked with laughter. “You’re most certainly my sister’s daughter.” I bit back tears. No one ever spoke about my mom. I missed her. “Now, it’s time for all good witches to choose their naughty wolf.”

  Stella shoved me in the back, pushing me through the doors into the Training Center’s Display Room.

  I blinked against the sudden light; sunlight streamed through the high windows. The tinkle of a fountain masked the sounds from outside the vast room, which was nothing but veined marble like a Roman villa. It was…civilized. As my eyes grew used to the brightness, I realized that it was as civilized as the line of Omegas kneeling in the middle. They instantly ducked their heads: golden tumbles of curls, spikes, or neat waves from pure white to burnished gold.

  Were Omegas all blond? And why had I been shaken by nightmares my entire life of werewolves if they were terrified of me?

  I sauntered closer; the wolves stiffened. I wrinkled my nose at the scent of carbolic soap like they’d been scrubbed raw and then left out as offerings in their white suits. The knees of those suits must be getting dirty. I tilted my head. Did they dry clean? Maybe the suits were new or… I stroked over the closest wolf’s lapel, and he whimpered.

  What the ever-living witch was I doing?

  I snatched back my hand. Why was I debating laundry in the midst of my choosing…?

  These guys were perfect as advertised but they were also trembling and unable to meet my eye. Call me picky, but that just wasn’t doing it for me. They looked like sacrificial princes before the dragon, and when did I become the dragon?

  Stella wrenched back the head of the Omega whose lapel I’d been petting. He averted his gaze submissively. “What about this one?”

  I bit my lip.

  Behind the pretty men was another bank of screens, which showed wolves throughout the center. I reddened at the sight of Omegas being bathed, washing floors, sitting at lessons, or being fitted with muzzles — maybe they were just kinky?

  The messed-up thing was, how would I know?

  My aunt and uncle raised me as non-magical, which roughly meant that they hadn’t bothered to teach me anything about this whole new world with its rules, centuries-old wars, and cold beauty. I’d always been self-reliant, starting my gallery with money that I’d raised myself, rather than my kind but distant uncle’s loans because I couldn’t rely on anyone, since they had a tendency to die on me. If I had to be a Wolf Charmer, I’d do it my own way.

  As soon as I figured out what that was.

  I took a careful breath: you can do this. “I don’t think that I fit into this whole witch and werewolf thing. You know, I have my art and…”

  Stella’s gaze darkened, and for the first time, I felt frightened of her. I could sense her magic swirling beneath her skin, furious and spitting, whilst the way that she assessed me told me I’d been judged and found wanting and that sure was a feeling that was way too familiar.

  I shrank back but then hesitated, sniffing.

  Sparking silver wound like crackling popcorn around a door at the back of the Display Room. Unlike the grand marble, the door was small and wooden. The silver crept out to my red, questing and playful. I shuddered, as it wrapped intimately around my shadows.

  I’d never experienced such power. I hungered to taste more of that…

  No one could see my shadows, unless I wanted them to or they were connected to me. Maybe this silver was the same?

  I stumbled towards the door, ignoring the sudden surge of activity around me. A powerful Alpha with black hair that was dragged back in a harsh line from her hawk-like face and who wore a bulky leather uniform barged to block me. She was one of the Trainers.

  Or as I now called them: Dicks.

  The Alpha rapped a silver tipped cane against the single word above the door: REJECT.

  I lifted my eyebrow. “Huh, so not all your Omega’s are perfect.”

  Behind me, Stella chuckled.

  The Alpha’s nostrils flared, and she bared her teeth; I could’ve imagined it, but I thought that they lengthened just for a moment. I fought the urge to take a step back. Then I shooed her with my hands. Reluctantly, she stepped away, swinging open the door.

  The silver magic swirled out, sighing as it curled around my own. Was this what I’d always been missing? And what did it mean?

  I stared into the gloom of the tiny windowless room, scrunching my nose against its stuffiness. There was nothing in it, not even a mattress, except for the wolf whose magic had leaked out and sought mine, whilst every other Omega avoided me like I’d be the one to gobble them up.

  You know, I’ve spent the last ten years dreaming of either kissing or killing a werewolf.

  Case in point: the sleeping werewolf marked REJECT who unlike the other Omegas was naked. A tumble of moon blond curls, long limbs curled on the cold floor, and a leather collar that was stark in contrast to the paleness of his skin.

  What made him different enough to be shut up here?

  I suddenly couldn’t help the smile as I tapped with my shadows on his head. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like but I don’t want to get up for school yet and squirmed, nestling back into his arms. He might be a wolf, but I couldn’t help the urge to kiss the curve of his soft mouth. I slid the shadows lower, down his neck, between his pink nipp
les that peaked from the lightest touch, and then…tickled.

  The Omega spluttered awake, flailing and staring up at me with wide golden eyes that were flecked with silver and framed by thick black lashes.

  My breath caught. He wasn’t pretty like the other Omegas: he was beautiful.

  How on earth could he be a reject?

  The Omega rubbed his hand over his eyes, before yawning and blinking at me. Then he glanced down at himself as if remembering that he was naked and crossed his arms, whilst a rosy blush crept up his neck.

  “By my fur, I didn’t expect to entertain today.” His soft Scottish accent didn’t hide that he could’ve won the Sass Awards. It jolted me how little I would’ve guessed he was a werewolf and that I didn’t even know what on earth that meant. “Who are you then?”

  I arched my brow. “Someone who’s traveled too far to stare at a lazy ass sleeping wolf.”

  The Omega pushed himself up to lounge against the wall like we were in a club and not a cell, pushing a curl behind his ear. “Are they even selling tickets to see my fine behind to American witches now? Were you expecting a lap dance?”

  When he cocked his head, I noticed that he wasn’t trembling or looking at me like I was a dragon, and that it was adorable. And why would I think like that about a wolf? Was it the silver, which had quested, entangling with my red?

  As a kid, I’d always been taught that wolf shifters didn’t have magic. And boy, did it make them more terrifying if they did.

  I hadn’t realized that my breathing had become harsher and more panicked, until the Omega reached out his hand to steady me, only for the Alpha to — thwack — crack her cane down across his arm.

  The Omega hissed, as the silver sizzled, burning his delicate skin. For once, the non-magicals had the myth right because silver was one of the few ways to take down a wolf.

  The red jolted from me without even conscious thought. It slapped away the cane, clattering it across the cell. The Alpha blanched, holding up her hands in automatic surrender. She wasn’t so big without her stick, cameras, and muzzles.