Page 1 of Tainted Hearts (Dark Witchy Omegaverse #1)

Sierra

" T hat will be twenty-five dollars please," I said as I looked over the woman that stood in front of my counter, taking in her designer outfit that probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"Really?" She scoffed, nostrils flaring like I'd just suggested she kiss a toad. "That's insane, I can't believe you charge that for a horrible reading." The woman's large diamond ring glinted off the sunlight shining through the window, practically blinding me with its ostentatiousness.

I despised women like this. The elite that came through thinking they could get away with anything simply because their bank accounts had more zeros than most people's phone numbers. The entitlement rolled off her in waves that made my skin crawl.

"That's a very reasonable and standard price for the area." I made sure to keep the smile plastered on my face, when all I wanted to do was punch the woman in the face and hex her with a week of embarrassing bodily functions in public places. The muscles in my cheeks ached from the effort.

Her lip curled like she'd smelled something foul and she slammed the money on the counter. Exact change. No tip, not that I expected one, but did she have to be such a bitch about it? The crisp bills lay there mockingly.

"Thank you so much for your business, I hope you have a pleasant day. Make sure to get that rash checked out before your husband finds out."

The door slammed behind her, the bells that hung from the frame chiming and trying to soothe my mood with their delicate tinkling. Too little, too late.

The mask brightening my features melted away and I let out a heavy sigh as I looked around my small shop. In the heart of Sedona, Arizona, I opened it five years ago, pouring every cent I had into this space of weathered wooden floors and crystal-lined shelves.

I always pictured myself having a massive compound where I would be able to teach the psychic arts like tarot, aura reading and crystal blessing.

A sanctuary for learning, not this tourist trap I'd become.

I'd always been able to see spirits, even when I was a kid.

I thought that my imaginary friends protected and watched over me, whispering secrets and warnings in my ear.

Before she died, Mama would tap my nose and smile at my strange antics, playing along.

She hadn't realized they were real and not just a figment of my overactive imagination.

I hadn't found out more about myself and that they were real until I went to live with my Gran. She was my mother's mother, and descended from a line of powerful witches. But I was even more powerful – a fact that sometimes scared me as much as it empowered me.

I was a rare Omega blessed with magical powers. Omegas like me were only born once in a lifetime, cosmic anomalies that defied explanation. The last one in my line had been my great-great grandmother almost 200 years earlier, whose grimoire I still kept hidden beneath my floorboards.

Gran had taught me very well. She knew what my limitations would be and tried to prepare me for the future, her gnarled hands guiding mine through ancient rituals, her voice steady even as her body failed her.

But nothing could prepare me for Rowen.

He was the one that truly broke me, the one that stood by my side that comforted me when I was in distress.

He held me the day Gran died when I was seventeen, his arms the only solid thing in my world as it crumbled.

He promised me that everything would be okay.

I was still whole as an Omega even without a family or a pack.

But it was all a lie, words designed to ensnare me like a beautiful web. Now I was here in Sedona trying my best to make do and just barely keeping the spirits at bay, their persistent whispers a constant hum in my consciousness.

When I was a child, they were there like my best friends always within reach. The people that I could always talk to, comforting presences in the darkness.

Or so I thought.

Rowen changed that notion. I trusted him, I gave him everything I had even when I was a teenager. It was all his. I laid it on the line for him and all he did was take my power and run away, leaving me hollow and shaking.

He was my savior.

And my doom.

He taught me to use my powers to their full potential after Gran died. But he also taught me the feeling of betrayal, the sharp knife of it twisting in my gut whenever I remembered his face.

How was I ever going to trust another person? The wall I'd built around myself was impenetrable, reinforced by years of solitude.

How would I ever trust the spirits again? They had led me to him, after all.

The answer was I couldn't.

He made it impossible.

So, I did my best here in Sedona, opening a shop very similar to the one my Gran had before she died.

I fooled the tourists into thinking that they had real psychic abilities.

Or that I had real psychic abilities and that I could tell them what was beyond the other side.

Mostly I just did tarot readings and past life regressions in addition to selling various books, gemstones, and jewelry.

A parody of what I could truly offer if I dared.

Spirits swirled around me begging me to listen to them. To hear them. To fulfill their ultimate destiny and the reason that they've stuck behind. Translucent faces pressed close, mouths moving frantically, fingers reaching.

They were my ultimate curse. The reason why I had migraines on a daily basis. Especially here in Sedona. The energy here was so powerful it amplified my abilities. But it also masked my presence, hiding me in plain sight beneath the vortex energies that drew tourists like flies.

I rubbed at my temples trying to alleviate the ache that was building behind my eyes. It was brutal today. Something I hadn't experienced to this degree in years. The pain pulsed with every heartbeat, making my vision blur at the edges.

Why was it so bad today?

Why today of all days?

Oh fuck, I thought as I looked at the calendar that's behind my desk.

It was November 1st. The day my powers manifested.

The first seasonal festival after I turned thirteen.

In the early morning hours after several hours of celebrating, my Gran guided me through the blessing ritual, the sacred oils still lingering on my skin.

When I went to sleep, my spirit light and free with my new future. He appeared to me in a dream. It was innocent. A happenstance. A meeting that would redefine my existence.

But it changed my life.

I was a vulnerable teenager. Little more than a puppet to Rowen. But, somehow he saw through me, peering into depths I didn't know I possessed.

Those eyes haunted me. The black, obsidian depths. That would forever haunt my dreams. Scorning me, teasing me, playing with me. I'd wake up in a cold sweat, his gaze still burning into me from the darkness.

The Lord of Hell was everything I had ever dreamed of. Years passed. Gran died. Rowen used his connections to allow me to stay on my own despite my age, weaving a web of falsehoods around me.

Then things changed as I approached eighteen years old.

I had no idea what I was doing. I was enamored by the man.

Swept up in his intoxicating sexual haze.

He drew me in. It was as if a switch flipped as I found him sexually attractive.

That was the understatement of the century.

I was obsessed with him. Wanting him every moment of the day and night, my skin burning whenever he was near.

It was that night my omega nature emerged, primal and untamed.

He taught me what it meant to be an omega and balance my new instincts with my magic abilities, his hands guiding mine through ancient texts, his voice low and hypnotic in my ear.

That was what Rowen wanted. Me under his spell completely and utterly entranced by him so that I can do his bidding. For me to stay hidden and known only to him, a secret weapon at his disposal. The rare Witch Omega. A prize to be possessed and controlled.

Able to give birth to alphas worthy to be an heir to a kingdom.

I wouldn't be his puppet or broodmare. No matter what he promised me, what visions of grandeur he painted with his honeyed words.

I was distracted by the bell above the door as it rang signaling a new person entering my establishment.

I looked up to see one of the most handsome men I'd ever seen smiling as he walked through the door.

Blonde hair swept over his forehead and brushed across his ears, framing beautiful turquoise eyes as he looked down at me with a smile that made my knees weaken despite myself.

"Hello, I'm looking for Sierra," he said as he looked around focusing in on me and giving me a smile that was worthy of a toothpaste commercial, all perfect white teeth and dimples.

"I'm Sierra," I replied as I gave him an equally brilliant smile back. It wasn't often that I had experienced beautiful men like him in my shop. In fact, the only men that came in here were middle-aged, and humoring their wives, or following them around like lost puppies.

"Then you're exactly the person I'm looking for." His smile took on a sinister tone and I watched his form flicker before my eyes flashing black and red, pulsing with power. The glamour cracked, revealing something ancient and dangerous beneath.

"I don't want any trouble." I held my hands up in the air pushing a wave of calmness towards this being. I couldn't tell what kind of creature he was. There was something very different about him. Something strange, yet familiar. Was he one of Rowen's demons? The thought chilled me to the bone.

He turned that perfect smile on. "Oh, you may not know who I am but I know who you are Sierra and I'm here to take you. My boss demands it of me." His voice carried an echo, like multiple voices speaking at once.

My blood went cold as power flickered the lights going on and off. My defenses rose, energy crackling beneath my skin. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Did he not know who he was dealing with? The spirits around me scattered, sensing danger.

I may be young but I was powerful. Rowen would expect nothing less. He trained me himself and there was no way this creature would defeat me. I gathered my magic, ready to unleash it.

"How cute. I can see the wheels turning, little one, but you're sadly mistaken. I do know a way to get you."

In a blink of an eye he pulled out a pistol from behind his back and shot me directly. I felt the prick of a needle in my neck and I reached up and plucked the dart out of my flesh staring down at it, disbelief coursing through me.

Poison?

He poisoned me? What the ever loving fuck? Was he stupid? The dart felt innocuous between my fingers, but the spreading numbness told me otherwise.

Did he really think this was gonna work? I was immune to many poisons due to my genetic makeup. Grandmother had made sure of that, feeding me small doses since childhood.

Oh shit, my vision started to go crazy, blackness creeping in along the edges like spilled ink. I guess he had done his homework. Whatever this was, it was specially formulated for someone like me.

A moment before the darkness took over completely I reached out for the first time in years. Panic clawed at me and it was the only reason why I reacted so rashly. My pride shattered in the face of real danger.

Rowen help me.