Page 4

“Go ahead,” she prodded me. “Spill.”

“Do you have a free hour?”

She chuckled then. “So what you’re telling me is he’s so much less than your favorite.”

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do.” She sighed, putting her arm around my shoulders. We were about the same height, both right around five-eight. “I have an ex in the same category as ‘less than favorite.’”

I grunted.

“Dr. Sharma,” a nurse called as she joined us. “Did you find the lupine who came in with⁠—”

“Yes, right here,” she said, presenting me. “This is…” She turned to me then. “I’m sorry, that’s terrible. I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Sasha.”

The nurse took hold of my hand. That happened too. People had to touch omegas. I’d had complete strangers reaching for me my entire life. “Could you come see him, please? We’re worried about giving him any more medication to lower his blood pressure.”

“Of course,” I told her.

She kept my hand in hers the whole way back to his room. Of course, when I arrived, they had cut his shirt off, and all I could see was miles of gold skin and sculpted muscle. It was a lot for a Thursday evening.

I groaned.

“No,” the nurse soothed me, patting my hand in hers. “We’re going to help him, don’t you worry.”

Dr. Sharma came up behind me, made a space so I was wedged in next to his bed, and the moment I slipped my hand into his, the machine stopped blaring.

“Jesus, that’s amazing,” one of the male doctors said, turning to me.

Yes, it was so great. I myself was over the moon.

“When we took off his coat,” Dr. Sharma whispered in my ear as everyone went back to working on him, “numbers on napkins, cards, and pieces of paper fluttered to the ground like confetti. I think you dodged a bullet not having this one in your life.”

I groaned and she laughed, which made me smile.

“Caught the player vibe, did you?” I leaned close to her.

“Oh yeah, he’s oozing with it.”

I took a breath. “I promise to stay until he’s stable so you won’t have to deal with a murderous alpha wolf in your ER.”

“You’re a gem, Sasha.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.”

The pat on my shoulder was appreciated.

Sitting beside his bed, I was messing with my phone using one hand, and holding his with the other. Every time I tried to let go, the monitors began chirping and whistling like birds, but if I held on, it stayed blessedly quiet. It had been two hours, and I was ready to pass out, but I needed to stay awake because the second a family member, any family member, even a butler or his chauffeur showed up, I was out of there. Funny that an omega didn’t use to have those choices.

Six years ago now, when omegas were first given the rights all the other lupines had and were no longer allowed to be bought, traded, or discarded on a whim, I was on the fence about how I felt. Because yes, of course I thought we should all have the same freedoms as alphas, betas, and gammas, but I was still in love with the romanticized idea of being an omega. I wanted to fall madly in love, be swept off my feet, and keep a home for my alpha. I was dying to do everything, from raising children to picking out decor and planning dinner parties. I’d never dreamed of having a career. I had a very traditional life planned that I truly, deeply wanted, and because I was the son of a rich man, I had the choice. Waiting for the right alpha was completely my decision. If I never found one, that was fine—I would always be provided for, even when my cousin Dmitri Norwood, who was a beta, took over the family upon my father’s passing.

Although I was born an omega, not an alpha, my father would take care of me for the rest of my life, even when he was no longer with us. There was a trust that would provide for me and anything my household and house—whatever I owned—would require. When I passed, the money and whatever property was mine at that time would then become the property of any heir I designated. I had a twenty percent share in my father’s company, and those shares could never be taken from me unless I myself sold them or gave them away. My father, Artyom Norwood, loved me dearly and had made certain I would always be taken care of. Would he have preferred me to have been born an alpha? Of course. But this way, with me fully provided for, he could put me out of his mind and focus on expanding his many companies and instilling knowledge in his nephew, his legacy, Dmitri, and traveling with my mother. Though, if I was being honest, I wasn’t getting much of a “captain of industry” vibe from my cousin. Just because his father and mine wanted him to be a real estate mogul, didn’t mean that was Dmitri’s dream.

I didn’t begrudge my father his choice. He was a good man who had, unfortunately, sired an omega and not someone who could take the reins when he passed. That simply wasn’t done. His board would vote him out if he tried, thinking that he was mad. Omegas didn’t run companies; the very idea was insane. And I’d been raised as an omega to serve, not lead. He loved me, but as an alpha, he had no understanding of the kind of man I was. It was how he was made.

After my father told me the news about omegas, I saw the relief all over his face. He was so pleased not to have to be invested in finding me a mate anymore. I could go to the gatherings of the jarl—the peerage, the families who made up high society, the rich and elite—if I wanted. If I didn’t, that was fine as well. And yes, from five to eighteen, I’d studied being an omega along with going to the finest preparatory school in Chicago, but my parents didn’t see that as time wasted, as I’d discovered that my love of the idea of being a kept omega was as great as my love for literature.