Chapter 41 Wyatt & Wade
WYATT you take a shit. You drink; you take a piss. You hit stage one ferality age; you find an Omega.
My knees protested as I shifted position, moving to another dirty patch of floor.
The grime had accumulated over years of neglect, much like the loneliness I'd refused to acknowledge until Nelly walked into our lives with her dancer's posture and haunted, hazel eyes.
Man, she had no idea how she hooked me from our first interaction.
Her fierce words.
Her obvious fighting spirit.
Her impossibly attractive body and scent.
That was the moment I knew that the Alpha and Omega thing wasn’t just bodily mechanics. It transcended that. It involved the mind, the body, the goddamn soul.
I dunked the brush into the bucket, the water now a murky gray.
My forearms flexed as I worked the bristles in circular motions against the weathered wood.
Repetitive actions usually calmed me, but tonight they only heightened my awareness of my body…
the same body that had come alive in new ways around Nelly.
Before Nelly, I'd never believed in fated mates or soul connections.
Now, I believed I couldn’t live without her.
The memory of every touch we’d shared over the past week collided inside me.
Our hands brushing as I showed her how to tack a horse.
How close her face came to me when we were checking over the buckles.
The way she’d dozed off on the sofa next to me and her body slipped sideways against me. I’d been too scared to move a muscle, not wanting to rouse her.
Even this morning when she’d tried to give me her coffee and I’d hurt her by pulling away.
From day one, my need for her settled into a heavy pulse low in my belly. From our first brief touch, I discovered that fleeting contact with my Omega was profounder than entire nights spent with other women.
I’d dreamed about her more than once. And I wasn’t a dreamer.