Page 13 of The Dragon's Omega

Was there anything more humiliating for an alpha than wasting away to such a state that he needed an omega to help him walk?

And not just any omega.

His omega.

My omega. Lianna. Mine.

“Are you good?”

Was I good? I turned my self-loathing upon the stars as I slouched over her. No, darling one, I’m not good. I’m fucking pathetic.

“It’s not me I worry about here?—”

“I’m stronger than I look,” she insisted with a grunt, squirming beneath the heft of my arm across her shoulders. “Seriously.”

Pathetic. I had no doubt she was strong at heart, for she had proven her valor already, her boldness, her caring nature. But that didn’t change our size discrepancies, and that was what mattered now. Left arm perched on her bare shoulders, mindful of her hair, I did my best not to put all my dead weight on her, but that proved tougher than expected. Legs weak, we shuffled up the beach at a glacial pace. Useless body. Useless pride. A useless alpha for a perfect omega.

An omega who was clearly caught in her own struggle. I had scented it—her—long before we crashed into the bay. Her need. Our connection. The spark of a fated mate bond falling perfectly into place. All that and more summoned me from my miserable slumber, and it swaddled us both now.

My omega’s perfume was cozy and warm, with subtle notes of cardamom amidst the vanilla and sandalwood. She had a sweet side too, akin to pale violets preening on a summer’s day. She complemented my own scent profile, these alpha pheromones beleaguered, struggling to mark the absolute fuck out of her by proximity alone. Lianna smelled divine. There was no other way to put it.

Dragons were accustomed to luxury. We sought it, hunted it, hoarded it until the end of time. My lot collected antiquities and scoured the many realms, forever lusting after indulgences that sang siren songs to our ancient hearts. Our dark desires. Our greed.

I had indulged in many flavors of luxury, all manner of fine goods. I had sampled renowned omegas across the vast sea of time, scenting them, tasting them on a whim—only for a night.

Yet none smelled finer than her.

Lianna’s slick was the new gold standard, its scent thick and aromatic, distracting and needy. Slumped over her, I could only imagine how she would taste, longing to feast between her thighs at my leisure, selfish, devouring her until…

Well, we dragons would never be sated; it wasn’t in our nature. A dragon always craved more. We loved fiercely, coveted possessively, and guarded the most precious treasure with our lives. While I couldn’t speak to the habits of my brethren, I had never kept an omega in all my long life. Never claimed a mate because I knew—for sweet goddess Freya had whispered it in my ear after Queen Frigga of the Aesir gifted me these golden scales—that the wise Norns had woven a true mate into my story.

I needed only be patient. Hardly a virtue among dragonkind, patience, but I was a Deathless God, and I had nothing but duty and time.

Now she was here, the one I had waited so very long to scent, to caress, to hold. Beautiful. Strong. Kind and determined. Bold and stubborn and delicious.

And I could barely walk.

“Here we are,” I growled the second we hit the tree line. “You’re free, little omega.” I all but threw myself off her and grabbed at the nearest pine. Shoving through its ticklish boughs, my hand snapped around its truck. “The trees will carry me the rest of the way, eh, old friend?”

But I leaned too heavy and my old friend buckled immediately, the snap of its trunk so loud Lianna jumped with a lovely little gasp-giggle. Affection and embarrassment warmed in my chest, and, determined not to burden her again, I lurched for another old friend.

Only this time, I tore a branch clean off mid-stumble, barely managing to keep from crashing, naked and semi-erect, into some particularly thorny underbrush.

“Okay, okay, I think the trees are gonna pass on that.” Lianna seemed to be battling back a smile as she patted the air and shuffled around the brush. Before I could stop her, she slipped under my arm and wrapped both of hers around my middle. “We’ll spare them a maiming.”

“Lianna—” How I already adored the simple act of whispering her name. “I apologize for?—”

“Which way?” Sweat shone on her brow as she peered up at me, but the exertion only made her lovelier. Hers was a beauty akin to a dark goddess, her heart-shaped face all sharp lines and defined features. Full lips. An adorable nose. Hooded eyes, her black winged liner smudged beneath a pair of neat brows. That determined gaze I was so taken with was gunmetal blue, the kind that changed with the light, awash with blue and gray and the tender spark of fire.

She was a beautiful creature, yes, but what I was most infatuated with was the steadfast glint in her eyes, the unflinching way she commanded me, cared for me at my lowest. Clearing my throat, my sigh defeated in D-flat, I thrust my chin leftward. “That way.”

“Okay.” Lianna wheeled us around. “Let’s roll.”

We struggled through the forest no quicker than we did the beach, pausing here and there to pluck the harsher elements from her dress.

“It’s ruined, I’m afraid,” I muttered after pruning some brambles from the ragged material by her knees. It was rather lovely when I first saw it in the pit, a luxe mulberry A-line cut. Sleeveless, strapless, the structured bodice was laced at her back, snug to her curves and modest across her cleavage. The skirt flared away from her hips, initially giving her a more exaggerated hourglass figure, and it trailed ever so gently across the ground—once. Now, as Lianna kicked her leg out, she seemed more inclined to just rip the whole thing off and be done with it.

And I would be quite happy to help, of course.

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