But her voice is…Fuck.The sound alone is enough to make me forget who I am. Not because it’s soft. Not because it carries that sweet, submissive edge most Omegas have. No. This Omega has the voice of an angel, and her brand of heaven isn’t meant for devils like me. There’s a sharp edge to her voice that commands the room, commands me, and fuck it, I like it. Half the Alphas in this room would choke on their own pride before admitting a woman like her belongs at the head of the table. The other half would be desperate to drag her from it, just to claim her as their own.
I settle deeper into my seat, not bothering to hide the fact that I haven’t looked away. I fold my arms across my chest, already imagining how beautiful she’d look on her knees, submitting for me. I can see it now. The way she forces herself to stand tall, even though I can smell the nerves beneath all that confidence. The way she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin, daring this room to underestimate her. It’s all just armor. A pretty little illusion designed to make powerful men question themselves before they dare to question her. If she thinks she’ll have any kind of sway over me, she’ll be sadly mistaken. Because little does she know, it’ll be me who makes her break. Not all at once. Women like her never do. They crack slowly. Quietly. Until they’re begging me to call them mine.
I might even be willing to share her with Dominic and Holden.
Who am I kidding? The more the merrier.
I want us to make her scream. To watch the tears fall down her flushed cheeks as she takes thrust after thrust of my cock, owning her slippery heat.
I want to feel her cunt squeeze around me as she bellows my name to the fucking gods in heaven. Letting them know who’s responsible for rocking her fucking world.
I want it to be me who makes her bleed.
My cock twitches again, reminding me that he is also begging for a taste, forcing me to straighten in my seat and adjust before someone notices. The moment I move, it hits me. Sweet honey. Jasmine. And something softer beneath its intoxicating scent. Something warm and inviting. Like roses left beneath the moonlight, their petals drenched in midnight rain. The aroma crashes into me with all the subtlety of a freight train. My lungs seize. My heart forgets how to beat. Every sound in the room disappears beneath the rush of blood pounding in my ears.
The realization doesn’t whisper. Doesn’t ask. It tears through me, sinking its claws into bone and sinew and every broken piece of my soul.
This Omega is mine.
The one person in this entire universe made for me. The one that calls to the darkest parts of my soul, and to something buried deep inside my chest. The only person I will ever truly love.
My scent match.
Mine.
Etched into the marrow of my bones. And for the first time in my miserable existence, I understand all there is to know about destruction. Why kingdoms burn. Why empires fall. Why monsters kneel before gods. Because if anyone so much as touched a single strand of hair on her head, I’d bare my teeth at the sky and fight the fucking gods myself.
I’d rip destiny apart with my own bare hands, because this Omega,my Omega,was fucking made for me.
Clive places a hand on her shoulder, forcing me to anchor myself into my seat as an irrational wave of anger threatens to consume me.
I don’t give a fuck that he’s the assistant manager of the Cardinals. He has his hands on my girl. A slight that cannot be overlooked. A hand lands on my leg, a calming sensation that has me settling within a matter of seconds. Dominic.
There’s a hard look in his eyes as his grip tightens, a silent warning. He shakes his head once. He doesn’t need to say anything further, because I know that look.
I may be the pack leader, but that doesn’t diminish any of Dom’s dominance. The only reason why he let me take charge was that he didn’t want the responsibility that came with being at the head of the pack.
So, against every instinct scratching beneath my skin, I concede, sinking back into my chair, never taking my eyes off my Omega. And the motherfucker who eventually removes his hand from her shoulder.
Smart man.
I wasn’t in the mood to explain a body today. Going absolutely feral in the locker room probably wouldn’t go down well with the suits.
“I am so thrilled to introduce you all to Lennon Gilmore. Some of you Vets may remember her as Coach's daughter.”
Sounds of acknowledgment ripple around the room.
This time, it's not only Dominic who reaches for me. Holden’s hand splays across my other knee with enough force to make me look at him. There is no confusion in those dark eyes. No question. He knows it. Felt it. The same thing that’s turned my blood to fucking ice. His grip tightens and his gaze narrows on me, silently warning me to get my shit together.
But I can’t hear him.
Can’t read him the way I usually do.
Because my mind is filled with fire and wrath. A feral, all-consuming rage I’ve spent the better part of twenty years keeping buried beneath scar tissue and clenched fists.
Pure hatred. Unrelenting. Murderous.
Because my sweet Omega isn’t so sweet.
