Page 12 of The Dragon's Omega

I blinked at his face, then his chest, as amber settled like a weighted blanket on my shoulders. Cypress coiled around me, his scent, his presence, the influence he made on this world by simply being, a tonic to the next cramp. Gone was the pleasure, replaced with a familiar ache that had me gritting my teeth and chasing distractions.

“Do you…” Picking the threads of that apart would do nicely. “Uh, do you n-not have your… heart?”

His brow crinkled as he studied me, gaze roving. He seemed to clock the new beads of sweat at my hairline, the flutter of my chest as I tried to breathe through the pain. When that beautiful hunter green plunged to my core, I crossed my arms over it—like that would actually do something, hide the way his presence played my body like a fucking fiddle.

“Dragons contain immense power, ancient magic,” he admitted softly. “I more than most.” Vidar sank onto both elbows with a grimace this time, then scanned the dark water lapping at the shore. “To fly under the radar, as it were, w-we store most of our power in a secret, treasured object. It keeps others from sensing who we are—what we are.”

In that moment, I felt for him. A bit of species-centric worldbuilding and he looked wiped, like a century-long nap wouldn’t ease his exhaustion.

“When w-we need more, in times of strife, after an injury, rare as they are”—we both glanced at his chest—“then we draw from our heart. Otherwise, we become targets.”

“For hunters?”

His eye twitched. “Of magic and mundane origins, yes.”

“So…” I motioned toward his chest with my chin. “There’s still a heart in there?”

His chuckle was bright and warm despite the ache in his eyes. “Yes. A deathless heart.” Vidar’s fingers nudged my knee. “Free of that wretched bolt, thanks to you.”

Another shy blush warmed my cheeks. He spoke with a light accent, but it was muddied, watered down by other influences. Still, there was a lilting buoyancy to it, a melody I could listen to forever.

Yearning slashed my belly. Instinct screamed to touch him, to feel his beating heart, to tap into that melody and weave it into my soul.

Dramatic stuff, omega instincts.

“Okay, where’s your other heart then?”

“In the bowels of this isle.” Vidar grunted, awkwardly shifting from balancing on his elbows to his hands. Muscles trembled in his bicep. A shiver cut down his torso. He sounded gruffer, more distant with every word. “It’s why I brought us here.”

Us. It sounded so right, me and him, but all these thoughts and feelings were verging on delulu if he wasn’t my scent match, my other half, my fated mate. If I were just reacting to the sheer intensity of my first supernatural alpha, then the flash heat, the distracted thoughts, the focus on his body and voice and scent and ugh.

Embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing if he wasn’t mine.

“I think—” Vidar knuckled under my chin, jolting me out of a potential spiral. “I am not the only one… in pain.”

“No, no, I’m f-fine.” His eyebrow arched at my stammers, the ghost of stern, no-nonsense skepticism settling across his face. I forced a smile and a shrug, sounding shrill even to my own ears as I added, “It’s nothing. Really.”

Just my first ever flash heat that was barely held at bay by sheer force of will and a lifelong refusal to become a pathetic, mewling, slick-soaked omega in front of any alpha, let alone a walking, talking god.

Yeah, totally chill. Nothing to worry about. Easy-fucking-breezy.

Vidar pinned me with a knowing look, his pupils large and his nostrils flared. “Lianna, I can smell your?—”

“You said your heart is here,” I blurted as I launched to my feet. Then, on shaky legs, weak and determined to buckle—drop me right in his goddamn lap, more like—I offered him my hand. “Let’s go find it. Get you feeling better already.”

Another incredulous look stared up at me, one that said he knew exactly what I was doing.

“Seriously,” I pressed, wiggling my fingers in his face like a worm wriggling on the end of a hook—for a shark. “I hate leaving a job half done.”

No amount of cypress, amber, or bonfire smoke would sway me. I gave him a few beats of exerting his alpha influence, the invisible force closing in around me like a hug, but it left him sweaty and shaky with dark patches under his eyes.

“You’re hurting. You’re tired,” I whispered, hand waiting to be claimed. “I-I’m a little tired too. Come on.”

His clenched jaw jutted to the side, and I bit back a giddy, girlish squeeeeeee when his big, strong hand finally closed around mine.

CHAPTER 5

Vidar

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