11. Afterglow Contemplations
11
AFTERGLOW CONTEMPLATIONS
~KAMARI~
T he private washroom in Cardinal's VIP sector feels like another world entirely.
I stare at my reflection in the ornate mirror, taking in my flushed appearance and wildly dilated eyes. The woman looking back at me seems different from the one who walked into this club hours ago – changed in some fundamental way by what just transpired with Damon and Kieran.
Did I really just...?
My fingers trace the ghost of kisses along my neck, remembering the feel of their mouths, hands, and bodies against mine.
The memory alone makes heat pool in my core again, despite how thoroughly satisfied I should be.
What strikes me most about my reflection isn't the obvious signs of recent passion – it's the expression in my eyes. There's something there I've never seen before, something that looks oddly like.. .contentment? Fulfillment?
The word escapes me, but the feeling is undeniable.
The red lipstick Damon somehow procured adds a perfect finishing touch. He'd asked if I needed anything to clean up "aside from the necessities," and somehow knew exactly what would help me feel put together again.
"I don't know about anyone else," I murmur to my reflection, "but a good set of lipstick is all you really need to look stunning face-wise."
The color is perfect – not too bright or dark, just the right shade to make it look like I haven't spent the last hour being thoroughly claimed by two of the most magnificent Alphas I've ever encountered.
The best Alphas ever to be truthfully blunt.
The thought brings a frown to my freshly painted lips.
I'll probably never see them again after tonight. This was likely just a pleasant diversion for them – a way to pass an evening with a willing Omega.
But Goddess, what an evening.
My body still tingles from their attention, remembering how they took turns filling me, stretching me, making me feel pleasure I never knew was possible.
The way they worked together, seamlessly coordinating to ensure my pleasure matched their own...
Heat floods my cheeks as I recall how deep they went, how perfectly they fit inside me.
Then it was the way I acted in return. Dominating and confident as if all of this wasn’t so new and foreign to me. I acted like an Omega who’s pleased an entire pack. An Omega who enjoyed lustful nights and thrilling orgasmic highs.
I can see why the saying “fake it till you make it” could be applied in instances like these, but man, if this was what I’ve been missing at nineteen, I’m glad I took the chance tonight rather than wait to be tossed to the government officially.They’d enjoy ruining me along with the idea of being pampered properly by a pack of Alphas.
In those moments of pure ecstasy, my mind had wandered to dangerous territory – imagining what it would be like if this wasn't just a one-time encounter.
What if they could be my pack?
The thought is selfish, I know.
Presumptuous even.
Why would two such powerful Alphas want anything more than a casual encounter with a runaway Omega? I bring them absolutely nothing. No favors or weight in the scale of power and business. They probably have their pick of willing partners, women, far more sophisticated and worldly than me.
Yet there was something in the way they touched me, the care they took with my pleasure, that felt like more than just casual sex.
The way Damon would check in with his eyes, making sure I was comfortable with each escalation. How Kieran seemed to know exactly when to be gentle and when to match my rising passion.
They treated me like I mattered. Like my pleasure was as important as their own. Catered my needs while taming their own, just so we could all enjoy the wonderful high of lust and ecstasy as one solid unit.
A first…and probably my last in a lifetime…
My hands smooth down my saree, adjusting the pleats back into perfect order. The fabric still holds traces of their scents – Damon's whiskey and leather mixing with Kieran's cappuccino and toffee.
The combination makes my head swim in the best possible way.
I’m gonna miss it…Goddess…this is going to be harder than I’d dare acknowledge.
The red mark just visible above my saree's neckline catches my eye. Damon had left it there deliberately, I think, marking me in a place that could be easily hidden but would remind me of tonight whenever I caught a glimpse of it.
As if I could forget.
It's not just the physical pleasure I'll remember, though that was extraordinary enough. It's the way they made me feel – valued, desired, powerful in my own right. They never tried to diminish me or make me feel less because of my second gender.
If anything, they seemed to celebrate my Omega nature while still treating me as an equal participant in our pleasure. When I showed defiance, matching their passion with my own, they didn't try to force submission.
They met my fire with their own, creating something explosive and beautiful.
"Stop it," I tell my reflection sternly. "This was just sex. Amazing, mind-blowing sex, but still just sex."
I have to convince myself for my own sake.
To prepare myself to tackle reality once more.
“Happy endings don’t happen in real life,” I coach myself. “Remember, Kamari. This isn’t some fictional fairytale.”
But even as I say the words, I know they're not entirely true. There was something more happening in that VIP booth – something in the way we connected that went beyond physical pleasure and casual flings that meant absolutely nothing.
At least I think so…
The way Damon's eyes would soften when watching me react to their touches. How Kieran seemed to anticipate my needs before I could voice them. The perfect harmony of their movements, like they were used to sharing not just partners but something deeper.
Like they were used to being a pack with me as their Omega.
If they work so smoothly with one another, I dare imagine how the others blend in their unit. I can only assume there are potentially four of them, though I didn’t really catch the others’ names.
I bet the other two smell good, too. They…all together…probably smell like a vintage coffee shop with a luxury high-end touch and rare drinks, books, and freshly baked sweets.
The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
Could they already have an Omega? No, I would have sensed it on them. Claimed Omegas would go through all means to mark their territory. All nested up with four of them, very visible marks upon their skin and her sweet aroma all over them…
The thought ignites a pool of jealousy I try not to acknowledge.
Their scents were purely Alpha, with no trace of an Omega's claim, and from their characteristics, I don’t think they would cheat…
But they clearly have experience working together, moving in perfect synchronization whether in conversation or intimacy.
There's a history there, a depth of connection that makes me wonder...
"Don't," I whisper to myself. "Don't start imagining futures that can't exist."
At this rate, I should be like Astraea and write books about my crazy life running away from my ex.
I've spent too much time living in romance novels, dreaming of perfect packs and happy endings. Reality is messier and more complicated. These men live in a world I barely understand – a world of power plays and danger that I've only glimpsed tonight.
A world that could swallow me whole if I'm not careful.
Yet even as I try to be practical, to remind myself that this was just a beautiful moment that needs to stay in the past.
Whatever happens at Cardinal stays at Cardinal…
My fingers trace the mark on my neck again, feeling the slight tenderness there.
In my culture, such marks are seen as shameful – evidence of an Omega's lack of control, of submission to base desires.
But this doesn't feel shameful.
It feels like a badge of honor, a reminder that for one night at least, I chose my own pleasure. I decided who could touch me, who could mark me, who could bring me to heights of ecstasy I never knew existed.
That has to be enough.
To carry this memory with me and know that such connections are possible even if they can't last. To have experienced what it feels like to be truly desired and valued, even if only for a few precious hours.
The lipstick gleams perfectly red as I press my lips together one final time. Soon I'll walk out of this washroom, out of this club, back to my life at the Safe Haven.
Back to being a runaway Omega trying to build a new life from the ashes of her old one.
The only difference now is I'll always have tonight.
Always have this memory where I was more than just an Omega to be claimed.
I was an equal partner in pleasure.
Even if it can never be more than that.
I sigh, knowing I can't hide in this washroom forever, no matter how tempting it might be. Delaying the inevitable will only make it harder — better to walk out with my head high while I still have the afterglow of pleasure to bolster my courage.
One final look in the mirror.
One final adjustment of my saree.
One deep breath in and out, steadying myself for whatever comes next.
As I reach for the doorknob, an acrid scent hits my nose, making it wrinkle in distaste. Burnt rubber, harsh and chemical, completely at odds with the elegant atmosphere of Cardinal's VIP section.
"Must be something burning in the kitchen," I mutter, trying to dismiss the growing unease in my stomach. The scent is familiar in a way that makes my skin crawl, but I push the thought aside as I pull the door open.
My heart stops.
No.
No, no, no.
Time seems to freeze as I look up into eyes I haven't seen since I fled my own wedding. Eyes that have haunted my nightmares, that represent everything I've been running from.
My breath catches in my throat, trapped there like a butterfly in a jar as I take in the man before me.
His tanned skin is more weathered than I remember, riddled with imperfections that the thick growth of his beard can't quite hide. The facial hair has grown wild and unkempt since the wedding day, matching the disheveled state of his too-long hair.
But it's the scar that captures my attention – a jagged line that runs from his left temple to his jaw, slightly puckered and darker than the surrounding skin. His first wife's final gift to him; carved into his flesh with her dying breath.
Lakshmi.
I never met her, but I know her story.
Every Omega in our community does. How she fought back when he tried to share her with his pack without her consent. How she managed to grab a broken bottle in the struggle, determined to leave her mark on him even as the life drained from her body.
The ends of so many Omega over the same burning desire to have a choice….
The official story was that she died in a tragic accident.
But whispers spread through the Omega community like wildfire – warnings about Maharaja Adhiraj Vikram Singh and his pack's true nature.
Warnings I should have heeded sooner.
Our eyes lock, and suddenly I'm back there — standing at the altar in my wedding finery, thousands of dollars worth of jewelry weighing me down as I realized I couldn't go through with it.
Couldn't bind myself to a man who saw Omegas as property to be used and discarded.
The memory crashes over me in vivid detail:
The hushed murmurs of the gathered crowd as I hesitated to complete the ceremony. The growing tension in the air as minutes ticked by without me speaking the required words. The way his pack started to move closer, sensing something was wrong.
The moment I knew I had to run.
The chaos that erupted as I turned and fled, guests gasping and shouting as I pushed past them. The sound of my father's enraged voice calling my name, ordering me to stop. The heavy thud of footsteps behind me as Adhiraj's pack gave chase.
But I had planned for this possibility. Had memorized every exit, every shortcut through the temple grounds. Had arranged for a change of clothes to be hidden in a precise location, allowing me to blend into the crowd once I made it to the street.
Standing here now, face to face with the man I left at the altar, I can smell the fury rolling off him in waves. That burnt rubber scent I noticed earlier – it's his . Somehow it's grown even more acrid with age, like tires left to smolder in the sun.
He looks different from the polished businessman who came to arrange our marriage. The perfectly tailored suits and carefully maintained appearance have given way to something wilder, more dangerous.
His eyes hold a manic edge that makes my instincts scream for flight.
He's been hunting me.
The realization hits with crushing certainty. All these months, while I've been building a new life in the safety of Velvet’s safe haven and Astraea’s financial support to keep me there, he's been searching.
Not because he loves me or even particularly wants me.
But because I wounded his pride.
Because I dared to reject him publicly, to shame him in front of our entire community.
The scar on his face seems to pulse in the dim lighting, a reminder of what happens to Omegas who defy him. Lakshmi's final act of defiance earned her a place in our community's cautionary tales.
What consequences would my very public rejection from the past earn me?
My body trembles with the need to run, but I force myself to remain still. Running worked last time because I had the element of surprise — had planned my escape route carefully. But now? I'm trapped in a secluded hallway of an exclusive club's VIP section, my path blocked by a man who's spent months imagining all the ways he'll make me pay for humiliating him.
The scent of Damon and Kieran still lingers on my skin, mixing with the remnants of our shared pleasure. Will he be able to smell them on me? Will knowing I've been with other Alphas make his revenge sweeter or more brutal?
I should have never left the Safe Haven.
The thought comes unbidden, thick with regret. But even as fear threatens to paralyze me, another part of my mind races with possibilities. I'm not the same frightened Omega who fled her wedding. I've grown stronger, and more confident.
And I'm not alone – not really.
Damon and Kieran are just beyond these walls, powerful Alphas who showed me what real respect feels like.
If I could just get back to them...
But the look in Maharaja’s eyes tells me he has no intention of letting me past him. His lips curl into something that might be trying to be a smile but looks more like a snarl, revealing teeth that seem sharper than I remember.
"Meri pyari dulhan," he says, the Hindi words for 'my beloved bride' dripping with poisoned honey.
Panic settles in while his manic smiles solidify the zero possibilities of a peaceful escape.
"Did you really think you could hide from me forever?"
I’ve been caught with no choice but to return to my gilded cage…