Chapter 9 #3
For a moment, I give in to the fantasy. To the dangerous notion that I could have this.
That I could get the girl, the one fate delivered to our doorstep.
The one my body recognizes as home, even when my mind screams otherwise.
That somehow, against all reason, all the shifting pieces would fall into their rightful places.
But reality crashes over me like a bucket of ice water.
This isn’t some fucking fairytale. So I gather myself.
Rebuild the walls that almost crumbled beneath nothing more than a smile and a pair of soft, nutmeg eyes.
Reminding myself of the mission at hand and the role I am supposed to play.
Because she’s so easy to get lost in. Pure temptation is pulling me toward the parts of myself I would rather leave buried.
Parts I don’t like. Parts that look at this woman, this Omega, and wonder what life might have been like if fate hadn’t decided to be so fucking cruel.
Whoever said finding your scent match felt like heaven wasn’t lying.
Then, ripping everything out from under me, the second it feels too real.
Only our situation is rather… unique. Because while my body sees salvation, my mind sees disaster.
Every instinct inside me screams to protect her.
To touch her. To keep her close. To claim what fate deemed mine.
But that’s not how this is going to go. Because reality reminds me who she is.
Who am I? And somewhere between instinct, loyalty, and duty, attraction and vengeance, my mind and body are locked in a war neither seems willing to lose.
A war that might just destroy us all. There will be no winners here.
Sasha might not see it, but I’m sure he will in time. Probably when it’s too late.
We’ll all have a scent-match-sized void carved into our fucking souls.
One that nothing and no one will ever fill.
Ever mend. And once what’s done is done, we’ll be left with nothing but ghosts of the men we once were.
Hollow versions of ourselves. I just know it.
I can already see it happening. In the way her brown eyes glisten beneath the fluorescent lights.
In the way she looks at me. Not with fear, though the thought of her fearing me makes my cock twitch beneath the fabric of my jeans, but with something that has no business existing between us.
Lennon’s eyes darken, like she’s caught in my snare, and for one impossible second, I think I have her. That she feels it too. But with a single blink, all of that disappears.
My hands drop away from her hips in shock as she backs away from me, her head starting to shake.
“Nno. I can’t… No,” Lennon mutters, trying to look anywhere but at me.
“Lenn—” I begin, but she cuts me off with her own raised finger now.
“No, Dominic. This isn’t appropriate. Employee fraternization is strictly prohibited.
You are…” she trails off, giving me an appreciative once-over, like she is almost tempted to forgo this sudden, abrupt stop in whatever that moment was between us.
But with another shake of her head, she burns down any hope I had of her returning to my arms.
“Well, you are you. I’m sorry, but this relationship needs to be kept strictly professional.
I’m flattered,” she says, meeting my eyes, and the sincerity there only twists the knife deeper.
She means it, I know she does, and I do nothing but watch as she backs further away, desperate to get away from me. “But, I can’t. I’m sorry.”
I wait for her to stop. For her to turn around and realize she’s making a mistake, but she doesn’t. The door swings shut behind her, and just like that, she’s gone.
I wait for her change of heart. For her to realize that it's a mistake to walk away from me like this. But that’s the opposite of what happens. Because here I am. Alone.
She rejected me. Can’t say I’m used to that sort of thing. Not being an asshole, it’s just a fact. Never before has a woman, let alone an Omega, ever turned me down. I’ve never had a problem getting my knot wet in the past. These days, the guys keep me sated in that department.
This…this is a first for me. And the fucked part is, it’s not the possibility of being rejected for sex that has me feeling all naked and exposed.
It’s the fact that I was caught up in some kind of trance, and that’s never fucking happened to me before.
There’s never been a time I’ve lost my own damn faculties.
But when it comes to the coach’s daughter, I’m tripping over myself like a fucking lovesick fool.
Love.
No.
That’s the scent match talking.
Everything is primal when it comes to her. She is mine. She is mine and she turned me down. A bubbling sensation begins in my chest, one that overcomes any kind of rational thought I had once loosely held onto. Any gentleness I had once felt for the Omega? Gone.
In its place is something dark. Something unkind. Something that I am forced to anchor myself to the nearest table against so I don’t storm out of the room, find my little runaway and bend her over. To teach her a lesson in what it means to deny me. To run away from me when she is fucking mine.
Run while you can, Little Bird. Because when I catch you, you will wish you were dead.