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It doesn’t matter. I have an alpha in front of me, and I need him to put this fire out.
I fight against the desperate need to press my palms to the floor, rip my drenched panties from my body, and present to him.
I lose.
An omega is at the mercy of her instincts when she’s in heat.
As I sink to the ground, a man’s powerful hands grip me, lifting me before my palms make contact with the ground. Tart cherry, rum, and pepper envelop me as Lawrence crushes me against his chest, holding me there.
And then we’re moving as I writhe in his arms. Begging. It’s shameful to be begging for his knot when Mom is there. Maybe Della too. But I don’t care.
I just need him to put this fire out.
“You’ll get the rest of your money when I’m sure I got exactly what my father paid for,” Lawrence snaps as he carries me away from everything and everyone I ever knew. His voice is husky with his growing desire as my heat triggers his arousal.
He takes me in the back of his limo the first time, his thick alpha cock spearing into my dripping pussy. My first time should hurt. It doesn’t. I pant and moan as slick slides down my thighs, crying out with need, desperate for his knot.
It isn’t pain I feel but hunger. Ravenous hunger.
In his mansion, I spend days writhing and moaning over his silk sheets.
I never stop begging for his knot to flare at the base of his cock or for him to quench the fire inside me with his cum. I’d heard an omega’s heat lasts four days. Mine lasts twice as long. I lose eight days, emerging from it raw, weak, and near starving.
And then I remember his words in the garden. I remember him telling Mom—
A soft, persistent sound ruptures my dream.
Knock, knock, knock.
My eyes snap open and I lie still, breathing hard as the scent of my arousal fills the small, dark space that is Pack Ashe’s closet.
“You’ll get the rest of your money when I’m sure I’ve gotten what my father paid for,” I breathe so quietly, no one could hear me.
Bought and paid for.
I've had a year of living as Lawrence’s omega, of being broken over and over. I’ve had time to think about when I perfumed, and my world changed into one I no longer recognized.
An omega is only born when an alpha and an omega mate. Two betas never produce an omega. Only ever a beta child. Two omegas cannot have children. Something about them coming together doesn’t produce a child. No one knows why. Two alphas will only ever produce an alpha, with the rare exception that they surprise the world with a beta.
But an omega only ever comes from a union between an alpha and an omega.
No exception.
Mom is a beta. So is Della.
Mom said that Dad—though she never said who he was—was an alpha who ran out on her when he found out she was pregnant with me. Della’s father was different from mine, she said, a beta, though I don’t remember ever meeting him.
I don’t even remember Mom being pregnant with Della when I should have, since I was three. Having different fathers made sense since Della and I didn’t look alike, Della dark-haired to my fair. We were both still betas.
Until that day in the garden.
That day in the garden was when things no longer made sense.
I was an ordinary beta until that afternoon.
For me to be an omega means Mom lied.
And Lawrence’s words…
