A/N: Look, Ma, I did a Khanolly omegaverse version of my Sherlolly story "Runaway"! Many thanks to irisang for helping me with the swordfighting in this tale, and to lilsherlockian1975 for looking it over and encouraging me to write part 2 from Molly's POV. The gorgeous photomanip that inspired both this and "Runaway" is by duskybatfishgirl on tumblr.

Part 1: Khan (Waiting For A Girl Like You)

"You may as well come out, I know you're in there. I can smell you, little one."

Khan's jet black wings rose and fell on his shoulders, the only movement he made as the rumbling demand fell from his lips. She would know who he was, even if she'd never been this close to him before, and that to fail to obey could mean her death, even if she was an Omega. The physical emblem of his power, the sword aptly named Vengeance, was held loosely in his right hand, blade pointed downward as he waited patiently for his prey to emerge from the dense clump of underbrush into which she'd obviously gone to ground moments before his arrival.

However, the light rustling sound didn't come from that copse, it came from the underbrush directly behind him. He whirled, chagrined and amused in turn at the fact that the runaway Omega had managed to trick him. She laid down a scent trail for me to follow and then circled around behind me while I was looking in the wrong place. Clever girl.

Clever, yes, but he couldn't allow his admiration for her get in the way of the fact that she'd injured and nearly killed one of his guards. The fact that Marcus was both an angel and an Alpha, while she was human and an Omega (even if she had been trained in weapons use by Mary, his most trusted human vassal and wife to his second in command and fellow angel Johann) had already impressed him enough to take it upon himself to track her down. He, the leader of them all, had decided she was more than worth his time and attention even though he had Hunters whose sole job was to deal with insurrection in the ranks.

She should be honored, he mused as he met her gaze for the first time. Her eyes were brown and very large in her pale face, making her mouth appear smaller than it actually was, especially now with her lips pinched together. Her hair was brown as well, a far lighter shade than her eyes and pulled back in a sensible braid that fell nearly to her waist. But it was her scent that caught his attention the most; his nostrils flared and twitched with appreciation, and he felt his cock stirring beneath his kilt. Her scent was enticing, that of an Omega on the cusp of her first (long delayed, as she was nearing her twentieth year) Heat. Spicy and sharp with…not fear, as he first believed, but desperation tinged with defiance. Mmm, no wonder Marcus had attempted to make her his.

He was vain enough to wonder if she appreciated his own not-inconsiderable physical attributes, especially his magnificent black wings, which he knew made a striking contrast to his pale, well-muscled flesh. Flesh that was mostly bared to her view - his hairless chest uncovered, his arms clothed only in black leather wrist-guards, his black-and-grey tartan kilt slung low on his hips, his legs bare except for the sandals strapped to his feet. He wondered too if she found his other attributes as pleasing as his many previous conquests had told him: his black hair, sleeked back from his forehead; his blue-green eyes with their cat-like slant; his mouth with its sensuous lips meant for kissing the breath out of eager young Omegas like the one standing before him clad in a simple brown tunic and trews...

"I won't go back. I won't have him."

Her words jolted him out of his musings. He quirked an eyebrow at the determination in her voice, in the set line of her mouth, the very outline of her slender form nearly quivering with the intensity of it. Her hair, he decided distractedly, was more cinnamon than brown, and that spice was the note that dominated her scent. Cinnamon and a hint of something sharper and more alkaline. Lye, perhaps. A closer examination was clearly called for.

But not now. She had her own sword held tightly in both hands, the blade pointed skyward but nonetheless a clear threat against him – him! – and if it wasn't already clear from her words and scent and determined expression, that movement told him she wouldn't come quietly. "You're an Omega," he said, his own sword still held point downward. He refused to take the threat of an Omega this close to Heat seriously – how could he? More importantly, why should he? He was Khan, her liege lord, to whom she'd sworn fealty from the minute she was able to properly understand what the words meant. He was an angel and she was a human; he was faster than her, stronger, with far better reflexes and…

He gave a surprised shout as the edge of her weapon struck him in the wrist above the leather guard, leaving a narrow gash and drawing blood. He stared at the injury in near shock, then narrowed his eyes and raised his blade, no longer allowing himself to be distracted by either her or his own foolish arrogance in believing her to be no threat.

"Molly Hooper," he said, lips lifted in a snarl as she backed further away, sword once again at the ready, "Omega or not you know I cannot let this go unpunished. You've drawn blood from two angels now."

"He tried to force himself on me," she retorted as she came to a wary stop near a patch of thick undergrowth. The dense foliage that surrounded them worked in her favor; he had to keep his wings tightly furled in order to avoid entangling them. "Our laws say I have the right to choose my own mate!"

"Our laws also say that the punishment for a human who attacks an angel is death," he pointed out, then he feinted toward her with the point of his blade. She moved to deflect it, and he changed the angle of his thrust at the last moment, catching it in the quilted fabric of her sleeve and drawing blood from her bicep. The coppery scent of it mingled with the smell of his own blood and her sweet Omega aroma. His breath quickened, although not with exertion; no, with something else – excitement, arousal. All for this rebellious subject of his, this petite woman who finally showed signs of fear as well as pain from the small injury he'd given her. Like for like; she'd cut him first, after all. And oh, wouldn't Johann and Mary howl with laughter at the fact that a mere slip of a girl had drawn first blood! Granted a wound so slight it had already healed, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

"It was self-defense, the law allows for that!" she cried as she managed to block his next thrust. She dodged to the left, scrambling to avoid the thorny bush behind her. The overgrown terrain was nearly as treacherous to her as it was to him. "I won't have him, I don't want him!" There was a rising sense of panic in her voice and scent, alongside the passionate determination. He thought he saw her eyes dart toward his bare chest for a split second before once again meeting his. There seemed to be something slightly different about her scent as well, something that spoke to a very male, very Alpha part of himself, and he knew without a doubt how this would all end.

Every Alpha must prove himself to a potential mate. Marcus had arrogantly assumed that simply being who he was would be enough. Khan knew better.

They traded a furious set of blows, although in light of his new understanding of the subtleties of their confrontation – subtleties he doubted she yet fully grasped – he continued to hold back, to test her. He wanted to see how far she would go to avoid being taken prisoner and returned to the redoubt from whence she'd fled after leaving Marcus lying bleeding on the armory floor with a dagger in his side. An injury from which he would recover, of course, but one he more than deserved for attempting to take an Omega against her will - although of course that wasn't the story Marcus had told, his scent too flooded with rage and humiliation for any hint of deception to be clearly read.

He would deal with the other angel after he and Molly returned to the redoubt. After this mating dance had come to its inevitable conclusion. As soon as the testing was complete, when she'd shown her mettle and he'd demonstrated his worthiness as a potential mate…she would be his.

The thought brought another spike of lust as he lunged forward and once again drew blood, this time nicking her in the precise spot where she'd stabbed Marcus. Her eyes widened and she gasped, although the cut was a shallow one. Then her nostrils flared and she gasped again, eyes widening in stunned comprehension as his scent wafted to her on the breeze.

He smiled as they once again traded blows, speaking over the clang of metal on metal as she backed away from him. "Yes, little one. There is no chance of Marcus ever making you his. You're destined for greater things."

Khan moved forward and aimed a blow at her head with the flat of his blade; she dropped to one knee, slicing horizontally across his abdomen, a wound that would be fatal for a human opponent. He let out a grunt of combined surprise and pain, baring his teeth in an approving grin as he waited for the injury to seal itself back up enough for him move against her again.

"I, I won't be taken against my will," she protested, eying him warily, sword at the ready. But the protest was weak; he'd raised conflict in her soul with his words, he could smell it as clearly as if she'd screamed it aloud. Confusion, cautious excitement, arousal. She was still afraid, but he knew it was only because she had no idea how far he would take this battle. She must surely know he was deliberately prolonging it, that he could take her down within seconds if he so chose. His prowess with the sword – with any weapon he put a hand to – was legendary. The fact that she'd been willing to even attempt to pit her own skills against his spoke volumes of either her foolhardiness or her desperation.

No, it spoke of her bravery. A very attractive attribute in a potential mate. He wondered briefly how he'd overlooked her before, humble though her position had been, then dismissed the thought as unimportant.

He saw her now, and was more than ready to make her his.

Impatience overtook him as the flaring pain from his abdominal wound began to ease; there was no point in continuing this ridiculous conflict, not when the outcome was certain. With a final flurry of carefully calculated blows, he maneuvered them around until suddenly Molly found herself backed up against a spreading oak; with a cry of rage she sought to escape the trap he'd sprung on her, but it was too late. As she swung her sword towards him he moved with lightning speed to grasp her wrist, twisting and squeezing just hard enough to disarm her as he held his blade to her throat.

She cried out in pain as her sword fell to the ground; he twisted her arm behind her back, trapping it between her body and the tree but keeping his hand firmly on her wrist.

"Yield," he demanded, his voice rough with a combination of adrenaline and desire. The blood was thrumming in his veins, and he could see her pulse pounding in her throat. The smell of her Heat had intensified in the short time since their duel had commenced, nearly driving him mad with want.

"No," she whispered, staring up at him. But her eyes were nearly black with desire, and her scent…He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Her scent told him that the word was a lie.

Still, he would have her verbal consent; she'd been correct when she claimed the right to choose her own mate. Even an Omega deep in the thralls of Heat could say no, and any Alpha who continued to force himself on her would face the most severe of consequences, even if he'd spilled over into the madness of Rut. The laws his ancestors had put into place when they first rose to power thousands of years ago still stood, for angels and humans alike.

"Yield," he said again, this time lowering his sword, dropping it to the ground as carelessly as if it wasn't his most prized possession. He reached out with his now-free hand and caressed her face, lowering his head to breathe in her scent at the base of her throat where it was richest.

"No," she said, but the word was a long, drawn-out moan and her free hand was sliding up his chest, coming to rest over his fast-beating heart. It was instinct that brought his lips to her throat, grazing the heated flesh with his teeth, raising a second moan from her lips.

"Yield," he whispered for a third time, resting his forearm against the tree trunk above her head and releasing his hold on her wrist. "Please."

The word was unplanned, one he rarely voiced, but it acted as the catalyst she needed to finally succumb to the burning need they both shared. With a soft cry she threw her arms around his neck, tilting her head although his mouth was already at her throat. "Yes," she sighed, pressing her body tightly against his. "Yes."

With a growl of pure male possessiveness, he claimed her mouth with his. There was no tenderness in the kiss, only want and need and primal lust. She responded eagerly, soft mewling cries escaping her throat when they parted for breath, throbbing against his lips when they came together again. He explored her mouth with his tongue, feeling her enthusiastic response even as he recognized her inexperience in carnal matters. That was a tragedy, that one so passionate had never experienced lovemaking, but as a male and an Alpha it pleased him that he would be the one to teach her.

The only one, he resolved as he wrenched her clothing from her body, too impatient and on the edge of Rut to care if they were ruined or not. He would clothe her in the finest silks and furs once he'd flown her back to the redoubt, present her as his mate and queen, find mates or at least homes for his many concubines, give her anything she demanded and everything she would never think to demand…

Madness, he thought as her naked form was finally revealed to him. True madness must have overtaken him, to have such thoughts about an Omega he hadn't even bedded yet. But he knew, deep within his very soul, that this connection he felt with her, the burning need to have her as his, wouldn't fade with her Heat. She would give him magnificent children and be the warrior bride he'd been waiting for his entire life. No matter how often he'd been urged to make one of his concubines his mate, to breed with them, he'd always held back, and now he knew why.

He'd been waiting for her.