Chapter Twenty-Nine
Danae
It’s been about two weeks since that trip to the city. Getting to see how Adriel lives felt like stepping into a piece of his world that he doesn’t show just anyone. And having Silas there? That seemed to matter to Adriel in ways he didn’t have to say out loud. It felt real. Important. Like one of those moments, you look back on and realize it changed something, even if you can’t put it into words.
Since then, things have been blissful. That’s the only word for it. I’ve been spending more time with the guys—sometimes one-on-one, other times all together, laughing, talking, just existing in this beautiful connection we’ve built. Each day feels like a new layer is being added to something solid and unshakable.
Tonight, though, it’s one of those individual nights. It’s just me and Silas. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about coming to this gala—he never is with these kinds of things. I’m starting to realize that Silas doesn’t care much for outings, especially the formal, flashy kind where everyone’s putting on a show. But this one? This is important.
It’s the birthday of a very influential associate of the Jorg family’s business.
The glittering chandeliers above cast a soft, golden light across the expansive ballroom, painting the room with an ethereal glow. Laughter and the gentle clink of crystal glasses weave into the symphony of classical music played by the string quartet near the stage. It’s all so familiar, this world of luxury, of carefully curated smiles and the weight of expectations.
But tonight is different.
I take a deep breath, the scent of expensive perfume and fresh roses mingling with the faint musk of my mate’s presence beside me. My gaze flits over to Silas. Standing tall in his tailored black tuxedo, every detail of his appearance is so pristine. The sharp cut of his jaw, the quiet confidence in his stance, the effortless strength with which he moves… this man takes my breath away.
He is my mate. My perfect match. Mine.
And he has never looked more perfect than he does now, his presence commanding yet comforting, like an anchor in this sea of fancy suits and backless dresses.
I’ve attended many galas before. Too many to count. But none have felt like this. None have made me feel so complete.
As Silas leads me through the crowd, his hand resting lightly but firmly on my lower back, a quiet warmth blooms in my chest. He introduces me to some of the guests. Business tycoons, political elites, people whose names I’m unlikely to remember.
Each time, he introduces me as his fiancée, and every time he says the word, my heart swells. There’s a pride in his voice, a sense of ownership, but also respect. It’s not just a label; it’s a declaration.
I catch a reflection of us in one of the tall mirrors adorning the walls. Silas, ever composed, his expression unreadable yet captivating. And me, the recessive omega who dared to be more, standing beside him in a flowing emerald gown that clings to my figure just right.
Together, we look perfect. It’s funny how these things happen, how the moon goddess leads things like this to happen. All the fights and bickering, all the times Silas and I have been at each other's throats, and yet the picture of us standing side by side like this is a perfect fit.
He leans down, his lips brushing softly against my temple, and it’s like an electric shock runs straight through me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. His voice drops, low and intimate, as if he’s sharing some secret meant only for me. “I need to use the gentlemen’s room,” he murmurs, and the gentle rumble of his words sends a shiver straight down my spine. It’s not a cold shiver. It’s the kind that makes you feel warm and weightless all at once, like your body is suddenly hyper-aware of every sensation.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he adds, pulling back just enough for his eyes to meet mine.
“Oh…” The word slips out. It’s a little breathless, a little soft, and I immediately hate how it sounds—like I’m some love-drunk fool who doesn’t know how to handle her man walking away for two minutes. But the truth is, I am going to miss him, even if it’s only for a moment. It’s strange, irrational even, but I already feel the absence of his presence.
I like him standing here with me. I like the way his voice dips when he leans close, like it’s a private language only we understand. And when his body brushes against mine, it’s not just physical; it’s like he’s embedding himself in my very skin.
It seems he finds this adorable because his lips twitch into a knowing smile. It’s not a mocking smile. It’s something softer, like he’s amused but flattered by how transparent I am. He moves closer, and suddenly, I’m pressed against him, my body flush with the solid, almost overwhelming warmth of his chest. It’s dizzying. The heat radiates between us, flooding my head with so many thoughts I can’t even grab onto one long enough to process it.
And then I feel him. Low and solid against me. My cheeks burn, and my breath hitches in a way that makes me feel embarrassingly obvious. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing to me. My brain is stuck in a loop now, and I’m almost salivating at the mere idea of more.
He dips his head again, his lips so close to my ear that I can feel the warmth of his breath, and it’s like everything else in the room falls away. It’s just us now, cocooned in this bubble of tension that feels impossibly fragile. His voice is even lower this time, almost a growl, and every word lands like a spark on dry kindling. “I hate that I can’t take you in there with me.”
For one reckless second, I actually consider it. The thought flashes through my mind like lightning, fast and fleeting but bright enough to leave an impression. I picture it: following him into the men’s room, slipping into one of those tiny, cramped stalls, and letting him take me apart like decorum and good manners don’t exist. My pulse races at the sheer audacity of it. But reality pulls me back before I can fall too far down that rabbit hole. Instead, I bite down on my bottom lip, hard enough to ground myself, and force the thought to stay exactly where it belongs—in the realm of impossible fantasies.
He kisses my cheek then, soft but lingering like he’s trying to leave a piece of himself behind to hold me over. The warmth of his lips spreads across my skin, and I swear it feels like my face is on fire. Before I can say or do anything, he’s already turning, his hand slipping away from mine as he makes his way toward the restrooms.
I watch him go, my eyes glued to his retreating figure as it moves through the sea of elegantly dressed guests. The dim lighting reflects off his tailored suit, and even in a crowd, he stands out. There’s something about the way he moves—confident, purposeful, like the world bends just a little to make room for him.
And then he’s gone, swallowed up by the crowd, and I’m left standing there, my chest tight and my head spinning. I inhale deeply, trying to pull myself together, but it’s no use. The naughty little thoughts he sparked are still buzzing in my mind, persistent and vivid, and I know I’m going to need more than a deep breath to shake them loose.
Just as I think I’ve regained some semblance of composure, a voice calls out.
“Sothis is what Silas Jorg ended up settling for.”
The voice is sharp, icy, and dripping with disdain. I turn, startled, and I find a woman standing behind me. She’s beautiful in a way that feels forced, too intentional…fake. She has perfectly styled hair and a dress that seems designed to make others feel inferior. Her makeup is heavy, and I can tell just by looking at her that she spent countless hours applying layers of makeup to get this look.
But her eyes. They’re the most real thing about her appearance. The sheer contempt in her eyes cannot be forged or imitated. In her eyes, I see pure hatred.
“I can’t believe it,” she continues, her voice cutting through the air. “Out of all the women, he picked you. Some recessive Omega that isn’t even from here.”
Her words feel like a needle sinking into me. I feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up my neck.
Okay…Breathe Danae…
I glance around, hoping to escape the conversation, but before I can step away, her hand shoots out, gripping my arm.
“Let go of my arm,” I say, my voice firm despite the tremor I feel inside.
She laughs, a cruel, mocking sound. “You’re even frailer than I thought. It’s a miracle you were able to pass the test and climb the mountain. But you’re still nothing but a recessive Omega. I don’t know what Silas was thinking, rejecting me so many times only to settle for something as worthless as you.”
Something as worthless as you.
Her words feel like a hot iron pressed against my flesh. I feel a lump in my throat, and my eyes glisten slightly.
I try to pull away, but her grip tightens.
Eyes start to dart towards us, and it seems the entire hall goes completely quiet as everyone watches me struggle to pull my arm out of her unrelenting grip.
The humiliation is overwhelming. I want to disappear, to melt into the floor and escape her sneering gaze.
I drag my arm back sharply, freeing it from her hand. I have no clue what this woman's problem is, but I’m not going to stand around here and be overpowered.
But just then, as if she realizes that she isn’t going to bully me with words or physical strength, she changes her line of attack.
I catch the slight darkening of her face as she starts to release her pheromones at me. The damn thing hits me like a tidal wave…strong and suffocating. My body reacts instantly, the heat searing through me like a fire I can’t control.
I release my own pheromones in defense, but it’s futile. Hers overpower mine with ease, and I feel my knees buckle. The room blurs around me as I fall, the intensity of the heat making my vision swim.
This is what I hate the most about being recessive. I can’t defend myself.
Drool pools in my mouth, and I struggle to swallow it back, refusing to give her the satisfaction of seeing me completely undone. She laughs again, the sound grating and triumphant.
“You’re pathetic,” she sneers. “Trying to be defiant, are we?”
Her pheromones intensify, and I feel my body trembling uncontrollably.
My pride, my dignity… it’s all slipping away to the strength of her attack. I hate this. I hate feeling weak feeling powerless.
“Karen! Get the hell away from her!”
The familiar voice booms through the hall, but it echoes with a depth and fury I have never heard before. Relief floods through me as I look up to see Silas striding toward us, his eyes blazing with anger.
He doesn’t waste a second. His pheromones seep out of him, cutting through Karen’s like a sword. Instantly, the oppressive heat lifting from me. Karen’s triumphant smirk vanishes as her body reacts to Silas’s dominance. She falls to her knees, her confident facade crumbling as she becomes a trembling, drooling mess.
Gasps ripple through the crowd as the scene unfolds, the whispers growing louder with each passing second. Silas stands over her, his expression cold, his presence authoritative.
The moment stretches. It’s like time stops for a moment. Silas has a look of disgust beyond anything I’ve ever seen before. His chest rises and falls, eyes filled with rage as he looks down on her groveling figure.
Karen claws at his feet, her voice desperate and pleading. “Silas, please! I need you. I…” The rest of her words are a mumbled mess of heat, the sight of it sending a weird mix of excitement and something like fear through me. Silas’ pheromones are immensely powerful, and even now, as he directs the energies towards Karen, it’s having an effect on me too.
“Enough,” he snaps, pulling his foot away from her grasp.
He turns to me then, his expression softening as he extends his hand. Without hesitation, I reach for it, and he pulls me to my feet. His touch is steadying, grounding me after the chaos.
“Let’s get out of here,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. I simply nod, unable to find my voice.
The ride home is excruciating. My body is burning. The heat coursing through me is almost too much to bear. I try to focus on the passing scenery, but all I can think about is Silas…how he stood for me, how he put Karen in her place without hesitation, how breathtakingly powerful he looked.
By the time we arrive at the estate, I’m barely holding it together. Silas parks the car and turns to me. His eyes are so sexy, so intense. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he can see it…the desire consuming me, the need that’s become impossible to hide.
“I want you,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I want you now.”
His response is immediate. He pulls me toward him, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that’s fierce, hungry, and all-consuming.
My pheromones are pooling out uncontrollably now. And I know they’re having an effect on him because he pulls me into himself even harder, my body moving almost entirely out of my seat and onto the space between his seat and mine.
My hands fly over him frantically, and I must be stronger than I think because I tear off his shirt from inside the tuxedo.
He pulls out the kiss, his expression humored, “Someone’s a feisty girl tonight.”
I can’t talk. I can’t think. I reach for his trousers, unzipping them in a near panicked motion. His cock jerks up, hard and veiny before my eyes.
Now…Now I can let myself drool…
I dive right in, taking every inch of him till I feel it in my throat. “Oh fuck…” he yells as he pushes my head down even deeper, making me stay there. My eyes start to well up from the sheer intensity of it all.
But I can’t resist… I can’t play for long. I need him now.
I get on top of him, trying to ease my dress upwards so I can take what I want …what I desperately need.
He’s clearly just as impatient as I am. Because as I struggle with the dress, he grabs it and rips it in half in one full swing. I gasp.
He doesn’t hesitate, not even for a moment. My panties slip to the side easily, and he sinks into me, pulling me downward as his cock thrusts up into me.
“Urgh…Fuck.” I yelp. My hands scramble around, hitting the glass window, searching for any kind of support as Silas pushes himself up, fucking me.
For a split moment, I realize how bare I am. My dress is in tatters. “What…what if someone sees us?” I manage to ask.
“I don’t give a fuck. You’re mine…my Omega…my fucking bitch…”
Oh my…Silas…
The way he talks to me… The possessiveness in his voice. I want to be his bitch. I want to be owned by him.
He takes me like I’m his, like I’m branded with his name. I lose my need to be discreet. I moan freely…loudly.
“I’ve wanted to rip that dress off you all night, baby,” he says.
I almost wish I could say something back. But I can’t. My mouth opens, and nothing that comes out of it makes any sense.
And then he goes faster, harder. I look at his face in a wild, furious grimace.
And then I’m there.
“Oh! Fuck! Silas!”