Page 43 of The Omega

Part of me wanted him to hurt. This wasn’t fair. All the stories of Omegas, of what we were supposed to be. They’d fed me dreams of fairy tales. He wasn’t playing by the rules. Not that I expected him to, but I’d hoped…

“I’m sorry.” Atlas moved to block my escape. “You smell so good and it’s hard to think around you. I’m saying everything wrong tonight, but you are mine. Don’t walk out this door hating me.”

Fire licked my veins as I clutched my stomach, trying to stop the hollow ache from consuming me whole. “Say it again.”

“Say what?” He licked his lips as he caught the back of my neck, forcing me to look into his eyes. “That I’m sorry? Did I say that yet? I meant to.”

“No.” I laughed a little. “The part where you said I’m yours.”

His wolf flashed in his eyes as understanding dawned. Something mixed between an Alpha purr and a growl built in his chest. “You’re mine.”

Then his lips crashed over my lips, claiming me with his kiss. The heat in my skin burned under his touch as my soul tried to leave through my gasping breath, eager to please and merge with his.

He kissed like I’d never been kissed. It was full of promises. Of demands. It left me aching and needing and full of hope all at the same time.

The best first kiss of my entire life.

It was broken by a knock on the door and snarling coming from the other side.

“Open up, fucker! I know you’re in there. If you touch her, I will kill you.”

17

Dorian

He took her. She’s in there.

I beat my fist against the door, still hopped up on adrenaline as I cracked my neck from side to side. Atlas was a dead wolf the moment he’d thought he could take my mate from me.

The show had gone beautifully. Ken and Mike gushed their praises, keeping me after the curtains had dropped and popping open bottles of champagne. The pyrotechnics and dance routine went off without a hitch. No doubt the numbers would be rolling in soon as the viewers talked about the show. It was one to be remembered.

That was why it would’ve been the perfect opportunity. One this asshole had to ruin.

I’d seen it all play out. Imagined dropping to my knees with the flame projectors blasting in the air. Opal would be stunned after the aerial dance, but I’d stun her even more when I confessed for all the world to know that she was my fated mate.

“Open the fucking door or I’m breaking it down.” These things had to be shifter-proof, because it didn’t crack under the pressure of my fist.

It was very anti-climactic.

And it pissed my wolf off even more.

He snarled and paced, worked up by the male scents in this hallway. The smell of wrong. Of Atlas’s stink and the lingering fresh notes of cotton candy that didn’t belong here.

Some rational part of my brain was screaming at me to stop. To go somewhere and cool off. The cameras were recording. But I couldn’t think straight.

My mate was in heat.

She needed me.

Opal was an Omega. During my hasty studies through the past few days, I’d learned a thing or two about my mate. It was common for Omegas to take multiple mates because they had special needs while in heat. That was fine with me. I didn’t mind sharing. The more the merrier. Hell, a good exhibition was one of my personal kinks. We could have a whole harem if she needed it.

But Atlas was not invited.

“I said, open this door right—”

My booted foot paused midair as the door was wrenched open and the potent perfume of my beautiful, needy mate surrounded me. I slowly composed myself.

Opal stood in the doorway with freshly kissed and swollen red lips. Her hair was finger-mussed and wild, as wild as the erratic beating of my heart.