The Rejected Omega's Knotted Wish

1. Adrian

Adrian

The reality of time has ceased to exist in the hours I've spent tracing the expanse of soft, pale skin before me.

The sweet omega lies wrapped in my arms, held to my chest. Freckles dot her body in patterns that mirror familiar constellations.

At this point, I think I could recreate them all with my eyes closed.

The shadows of the windows move with the sun as time passes in silence, the golden hue of the muted sunlight streaming past the curtains reflecting off her skin only enhancing her glow.

As if she needs any help from the universe to possibly be more angelic.

My omega.

My mate.

The embodiment of my absolute failure as an alpha.

Every minute cycles through another memory of my disgusting behavior, twisting my stomach.

Every time a fresh wave hits, the urge to run, wince, or scream and snarl is a fight to deny.

I've been given the greatest gift an alpha could ever hope for: a scent match.

The shame, guilt, and, frankly, embarrassment of my actions continue to bring heat and moisture to my eyes at the overwhelm.

Disgusting.

What's worse? The urge to sink my teeth into her neck, into the tantalizing skin mere inches from my face, is unending, despite it all.

The sick part of me believes if I claim her and finalize the bond, she will have to stay with me forever.

But the truth is, she doesn't have a choice any more than she did when we met. She never did.

The memories of the night prior, however, are mostly missing.

Fragments and bits and pieces continue to surface, but otherwise, the night is mostly a haze.

I do remember, with clarity, the exact moment I saw another alpha, outside of our pack, with his lips practically to her throat.

Any form of struggle up to that moment was for naught, trying to keep my primal leashed.

Black hadn't seeped in from the edges and slowly taken over, like I've experienced in the past. It had zipped through me with the speed of lightning, consciousness stolen in the blink of an eye.

This was far beyond the perpetual battle of wills between my alpha and me.

The loss of control is one of the more terrifying things I've experienced.

My body, my awareness, hell, my consciousness, was disconnected entirely.

The worry of what happened in those moments I wasn't in control is a fastened belt around my torso, even now as I lay here.

With a small shift, the sheet rustles, stealing my attention back to her as she scent marks me with her cheek, repositioning slightly in her sleep.

The nudge back into the moment sends sparks of awareness to the tension and rigidity of my muscles, twisted in the pathetic attempt at self-protection from the emotional onslaught.

I do my best to gently relax and not move, to avoid waking her.

My primal seems to have flipped a complete one-eighty since the late hours of the night.

Vicious snarls and fights for dominance have turned into a contented purr, settled in my chest at the truth of our new situation.

Next to that godforsaken beast is a new hum: Our recognition bond.

At some point in the darkness of night, it snapped into place.

Another moment intended by the Gods to be beautiful, stolen from my omega completely. And she has no idea yet.

When it did happen, I'm not even remotely sure. I'm positive it was triggered by a culmination of her in Drop, my own obvious Hold, and the general fear and other heightened emotions that had started flooding in from all directions.

Her little whimpers, hands instinctually reaching for me, and scent enveloping me, were a unique torture throughout the night.

Every sound of discomfort brought the urge to kiss every inch of her face, to stroke her hair, and murmur soft words against the shell of her ear.

The desire to soothe any ache, take away any ounce of pain she may have been experiencing, was a battle of will to do the right thing. Is a battle of will.

And the right thing is not to have my lips roam her skin. It certainly isn't to sink my teeth into her neck. It's already pushing it having her cradled this close to me, I'm sure.

What happens when the ache she's carrying is yet again caused by me? At what point does it become too heavy? I have to make this right, should it take until my last breath to do so.

Just as I'm about to give in to the exhaustion and fall asleep, eyelids heavy, Opaline moves and adjusts herself against my chest. Her sweet little sigh hits first, a small stretch in her hips and legs, followed by a whispered 'ouch'.

Eyes snapping open, I pull back just enough to sweep them over her and see what's hurting my omega.

But the answer is obvious: she's still covered in bruises, scrapes, and cuts.

I haven't had the chance to see my packmates, much less speak to them, to really learn the extent of what happened.

If I was included in those conversations last night, I have zero recollection.

But it's painfully clear she fell and hurt herself pretty badly.

It's unfortunate, and the perfect representation of my darkened core, but the asshole in me can only think of how much worse this could have ended.

If scrapes and bruises are the worst of it, I'll take it.

Throughout the early hours of the night, as my primal slowly started to recede, my body had started feeling more like my own, the movements more familiar.

The urge to bathe and tend to her injuries wasn't entirely my primal at blame.

"Um, hi?" Bright, beautiful pale green eyes blink up at me, clearing sleep from them, seemingly more than a little confused. Focus tuned to me, I can safely assume that's because she's befuddled as to why it's my face she's waking to and not one of her other mates.

"Hi, little omega," I say softly, a bit warily.

At this point, I've done what I can to prepare for her reaction.

I'm prepared for her anger, disappointment, possible sense of betrayal, whether at my doing or our primals'.

What I'm not prepared for is for her to voluntarily set her small hand to my bare chest. The urge to tighten my hold and force her closer to my body races through me at her initiated contact.

Just as she's about to speak again, my rapt attention is stolen by commotion just outside my room.

The door slams open, ricocheting against the wall behind it, causing her to gasp in surprise, probably still half asleep. Shielding her under me, I press my weight on top of her without thinking, growling towards the door.

"Yeah, you're scary. I get it. But I'm done waiting, asshole.

Calder felt her wake up through the bond.

" Sage runs to the side of the bed, shoving me effectively off of her, cradling her face in his hands.

"Baby. Fuck, sweetheart," he whispers, far softer and more gentle than he spoke to me. "I've been g—"

"Damn it, Sage!" Calder's voice roars just before he comes into my bedroom like a bull on a mission.

Coming to a comical stop, his eyes swell as he simply takes in his omega.

Our omega, the little voice in my head tells me.

Slowly walking to the side of the bed, as if he can't quite believe she's awake and okay, Calder helps her sit up, supporting her head as he whispers soft words of encouragement.

"God, why the hell does my body feel like I got run over with a truck? What did we do last night?" she groans, situating herself against his side, snuggling up so her nose reaches his scent gland.

We each pause, gazes bouncing between the other.

She doesn't remember?