Liberated Omega

An MM Mpreg Shifter Romance

by Aspen Grey

An alpha scarred by war. An omega sold as a slave. A powerful love that will bring them together.

Brooks, survivor of a shifter pack war, came to Mountainside to get away from war. He wants to fix up the house his father left him, find a mate and start a family. He just wants quiet, but when he sees a sweet young omega about to be sold into slavery, he knows he has to step up and act.

Eric has has been SOLD by his father, just days before his 18th birthday, to Mark Duplass, a cruel alpha who wants to take Eric’s flower and keep him as a slave. Eric is dreading the moment the clock strikes midnight and he turns legal and becomes nothing more than property. Eric’s life has barely begun, but to him, it’s already over.

Mark takes Eric back to his house while they wait for the clock to strike midnight, but Brooks, having tracked his fated-mates scent to the home, breaks in and rescues him, throws him on the back of his bike and takes him away from a terrible future.

Mark is furious, and tracks Brooks down and tells him that if he doesn’t return “his property” that there will be dire consequences. But Brooks is a fighter, a survivor, and isn’t one to back down, especially when it concerns the love of his life.

He’s determined to keep Eric safe, away from the clutches of his cruel father and heartless alpha who thinks he owns him, put a cub in his belly and live happily ever after. But will he be able to forge a new life for them and keep his fated-mate safe?

Liberated Omega is the 2nd installment in the Wolves of Mist Peak series and is a non-stop read filled with love and lust, action and injustice, juicy warmth and red-hot spice, a mouth-watering alpha and a sweet omega, all the knottiness you expect from Aspen Grey and a tear jerker HEA. Don’t wait, dig in!

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Chapter 1


Sold…I thought as I lay miserably in bed and stared at my Sleepy Hills High graduation tassel that hung from the mirror over my desk.

My father sold me. What an amazing birthday present.

I turned eighteen tomorrow, June 8. Most kids got a car or a computer for their birthday, but not me! I got an alpha—an alpha that I didn’t choose, didn’t want, and couldn’t return if I wanted to. My son of a bitch father had sold me for 40,000 dollars. Can you believe that? Not even enough to live comfortably on for more than a couple of years max. His only son!


Mark Duplass…that was his name. He was a trust fund baby that lived in a mansion just outside of town with who knew how many bedrooms. I never understood why rich people always gloated about how many bedrooms they had anyway. I mean—how many children were you really going to have? And if you didn’t want a huge family, did you really have enough friends who were coming to stay over that often? I’d rather have a nice cozy place with just enough room.

I’d always been a dreamer, tearing up over cheesy romance movies on Netflix, loving a nice chick-flick and a tub of Haagen-Dazs, picturing myself as the awkward girl who got swept off her feet by the heart-melting man who fell in love with her and took her away to a beautiful cottage where they’d raise a family together (why didn’t they make those films about two guys I wonder…?), but once my father had given me the news of what was going to happen to me, I realized that my happily-ever-after was nothing but a fantasy.

“You’re going with him and that’s that!” he’d told me with a slap to the cheek. “He’s rich, he’ll give you everything you’ll ever need, and I won’t have you linking up with one of those crazy Webbers that live up by Mist Peak! Violent sons of bitches, do you have any idea the trouble they stirred up last year with that pack war against the Kurrens?”

“I don’t think they started that, dad—”

He shut me up with a second clap and pointed a warning finger in my face. He was really angry at me, and part of me wanted to believe that some of that anger was directed at himself—guilt at having sold his only son—but I knew I was just rationalizing. My dad had always been a cruel man. I didn’t have a single happy memory of my youth that involved him, and I’d never even known my other father. A one-night stand probably. Dad never talked about him.

“You just be thankful for what I’ve arranged for you,” he told me. “You’ll be a prince around these parts!”

“I don’t want to be a prince!” I’d shouted, ducking out of the way of his third blow. “I just want someone I love!”

“Love’s a bunch of bullshit, boy!” he called after me as I raced upstairs and slammed my bedroom door. “You better get that through your thick head!”

I’d cried for a long time, wondering for a moment if I should just shift and head into the woods and live off the land. But I wasn’t a wolf—not completely—I was a shifter, and that kind of life wasn’t for me.

I looked at the clock on my wall. It was 10:55, which meant Mark was on his way over. He was taking me out “for drinks,” which meant—as I was underage—that we were going to get a coffee in downtown Mountainside at a place that stayed open until eleven so students could study. I prayed I wouldn’t run into anybody I knew from school. This was supposed to be a “get to know each other” meeting so I’d be more amiable tomorrow when he took me to his house.


Tomorrow I would be gone.

Tomorrow I would be legal.

I shuddered at the thought. I was as virginal as they come. I’d kissed two guys in my entire life, and one of them was when I was six and was just a silly game with boys experimenting with each other. I’d never had sex, never given head (unless you counted practicing on a cucumber when I thought Corey Foreman was going to ask me to prom) and only given a single handjob that I thought would be reciprocated but wasn’t. Mark was definitely going to want to have sex with me, and probably as soon as possible. And that terrified me.

I almost jumped out of bed when I heard the doorbell. I got to my feet and checked my hair in the mirror. It wasn’t that I cared what Mark thought of me, after all he’d already paid for me, it’s just that I knew my father would have a fit if I didn’t look perfect.

My chestnut curls were looking good. I’d washed and conditioned my hair and then blow dried it to make them curl just right. My skin was clear, thank God, and I thought I looked pretty cute in my beige chinos and white and gray striped t-shirt.

“Eric,” my father shouted from downstairs.

“Coming,” I replied.

“Hurry up!” he waved his hand at me and I came down, taking each step like it was going to be my last. My legs felt like I’d just run ten miles and my heart was like an overinflated balloon ready to pop. When I reached the ground floor, my dad got right up into my face.

“Now, no funny business! You understand?”

“What kind of funny business?”

“Any!” he snapped. “Best behavior. If you screw this up for me, you’ll wish you were never born!”

Like I already don’t, I thought miserably as he opened the door.

Mark didn’t even come in. He stood on the steps and eyed our little home with obvious disdain. Some people would have found him good-looking, but he made me want to hurl.

He dressed like a total fuck-boy, wearing nude-colored joggers with some kind of chunky sneaker that dads wore in the ‘80s. He had that typical haircut that everyone had these days with the sides shaved and the top slicked back, and a long-hem t-shirt in an off-pink color that reminded me of Pepto-Bismol.

“Ready to go?” he asked me.

“He is!” my dad answered for me. He pushed me on the lower back and I stumbled out onto the porch. Mark winked at my dad, took me by the arm and led me over to his Aston Martin. It could have been nice, if not for the fact that he’d had it wrapped in reflective gold paint.

“Get in,” he told me. “And don’t scratch the paint.”

Sure, trust fund baby.

Mark smelled…unpleasant. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what I didn’t like about it. It was something like an old laundry room or a damp basement that someone had been smoking cigars in. It was undeniably alpha, but harsh and sloppy.

Mark’s parents had struck it rich somehow—something involving the tech industry or an app or something—and then died and left their fortune to him. He was thirty-nine and hadn’t worked a day in his life. People in town knew all about him and his debaucheries, paying for companions and indulging in every substance known to man. Some of the alphas looked up to him, but any omega with any sense knew that these were the kinds of men you stayed away from.

We rode in silence into town. As he pulled up in front of the coffee shop, he grimaced.

“You’d think they’d have a valet by now,” he scoffed.

A valet in a tiny town like this?

He got out and I did the same. He walked in, not bothering to hold the door open for me, but expecting me to follow him dutifully. Not wanting to upset my dad and face his wrath when I got home, I did just that.

“Sit over there,” he told me as he went to the counter. I did as I was told, feeling like my heart was on the verge of collapse, and took a seat in the corner farthest from the door. The crowd was sparse, and I couldn’t stop hoping that one of the customers would see my predicament and do something to save me.

Sure, I thought. Keep dreaming!

Mark came over to the table and sat down, and I saw a look on his face that sent a chill through my body. He eyed me up and down and licked the corner of his mouth with a slimy tongue.

“So, there’s been a change of plans.”

He stared at me—waiting.

“Y—yes?” I asked.

“I know your dad said you were coming with me tomorrow. But we’ve decided to bump that up to tonight. Seeing as how you turn legal tonight at midnight, I want you to be at the house when that happens—just in case you decide to run off and lose that V-card to some eager boy your age who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”


“B-b-but…I don’t have my things,” I protested. It was the only thing I could think of saying. I glanced around, debating for a moment whether I should throw a fit and hope that someone would help me.

“I’m rich!” he laughed. “You don’t need any of your things. In fact, I’ll give you all new things so you can dress the way you should be dressing.”

He leaned forward quickly and took my hand in his. I wanted to pull away, but I was terrified.

“Don’t look like that,” he grinned. “It’s not going to be that bad. In fact, in time, you’ll learn to love it—to love me.”

No, I shuddered. That will never happen!

Reviews:Kathryn M on Amazon wrote:

Aspen Grey's Liberated Omega is the second book in The Wolves of Mist Peak series. When Eric's father sells him to a wealthy Alpha on the eve of his 18th birthday, he thinks it's too late to find real love. Luckily fate steps in and throws him in the path of Brooks, his fated mate... and nothing can stop this Alpha from saving his Mate... no matter what repercussions may come.

I love Brooks and Eric. They are sweet and sexy and fun to read. Their story is sweet and entertaining. Definitely worth the read.

About the Author

Aspen is a simple gal who loves tea, ice cream, a nice warm blanket on a cool autumn night -- oh, and gorgeous shifting guys with beautiful little baby bumps! Aspen always wanted to be a writer, but it wasn't until she took the plunge and published her first book that she realized her dream.

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