Page 45 of Wild Omega

A hiccup jerks my body, and then I can’t breathe at all.

So, he’s too busy with his job for me? I cover my mouth with my hands. Maybe I’d have preferred him to be a wretched criminal, so evil his betrayal was second nature. But he’s a regular guy, someone supposed to fight evil. He just . . . doesn’t want me.

My thoughts sputter, like a flame running out of fuel. Why? Since when is being soulmates an idle pastime? It’s not; it’s life or death. It’s . . . everything. Or so I thought.

Moving slowly, like I’m caught in a trance, I trail up the wide stone steps after him, chasing an afterimage still burning in my vision. My body trembles with the lingering effect of his scent and the phantom heat of lips against mine. Did I imagine him as well? Is this all a cruel nightmare? Maybe I never escaped the House of Bitches after all.

I trot up the stairs, needing to be sure.

Just in time, I slip inside the courtroom doors as the judge brings the court into session. “Thank you for finally joining us, Counselor Wren.”

“My apologies, Your Honor.”

A sigh escapes me at the sound of that cultured voice, and the way the judge tips his head in acknowledgment. I pinch myself hard over the number penned on my skin, then wince as pain explodes in my arm.

My alpha is as real as I am. But he’s not mine?

I collapse into the back row as the man beside the judge’s enormous desk reads out the name of the case and the trial begins. The details slide past my ears like whispery water currents because all I care about is the alpha dressed in gray with his back to me.

He exudes confidence, not only with his polished words but with every inch of his body as he plants himself, posture effortlessly perfect. He sweeps one hand and his inflections rise and fall as he portrays doubt and disgust about the person on trial. The delivery makes me want to believe his words. Me and every other person in the room.

And yet he’s the least believable alpha in existence.

He strikes me as strangely hollow, in fact, but perhaps that’s because I’m the only one privy to his faint presence in my head.

Fascinating. And so painfully cruel.

I shake myself free of the trance with a scoff under my breath and a toss of my hair. If I stay here, it might destroy me. I didn’t expect this scenario, but it shouldn’t be a surprise. When has fate ever been straightforward with me?

My feet ache as much as my heart as I slip out the door and retrace my steps. I’ve been on the go all morning, including running from Samantha, who hopefully got lost in an airport by now.

It’s time to get my career in order. That’s the same choice the alpha made, isn’t it? His career over his omega. Well, fuck him. Fuck them all. So what if no soul mates come to my rescue? So what if I am crazy for hearing voices in my head? I bury the pain deep in my soul with all the other bullshit.

I’m Red Hawk, the greatest survivor on this damn planet. I don’t need anyone.

The thought buoys me as I dodge crowds along the sidewalk and cross at the traffic lights a block away. MoonMugs dominates a street corner, the famous pattern of crescent moons on forest green visible half a mile away. As I stalk to the entrance on the main road, the tinting on the windows blurs the reflections of the diners inside. A nice privacy touch with hundreds of people streaming past.

The aroma of coffee beans, soy milk, and sugar washes over me as I step inside and I pause, breathing it in. Then I stiffen. At a booth next to the window in the corner sits a man with platinum blond hair swept playfully to one side and my stomach swoops as I recognize him. I thought the name sounded familiar on Callisto’s lips, but I didn’t put two and two together.

There, waiting for me, sits the stunning film manager I saw in the online article about actress Lyra Gray.

Oh, baby, I’m stealing this man if it’s the last thing I do.

I flick my hair and straighten up as I stalk forward, my world narrowing to this one man. “Hello. Are you the film manager I’m meeting?”

He glances up. “Yes, if Callisto sent you—?” He stops mid-sentence to stare at me.

Two things register and the first is he’s so beautiful it’s breathtaking. Like, Callisto is handsome in the expected way, broad, confident, and tall, but the alpha before me is one-in-a-million unique, with pale skin, curving brows, and lips that naturally pout like a damn fashion model.

Second, another voice in my head shuts off. The fragrance flowing off him smells subtle, but so addictive I swallow down my pooling saliva. I’m fucking drooling over this man. Today’s a roller coaster, for sure.

“Well, this is unexpected,” I murmur. I was wrong. I do need an alpha, this alpha.

Instead of taking the seat opposite him, I slide the table back and straddle him, positioning around his legs with my knees on the bench seat. Every instinct demands I be as close as possible to this man. Even more because I’m raw from rejection.

I might die of grief if he turns his back on me too.

The slender man rumbles softly as I drop my nose into the curve of his neck and breathe deeply. My body lights up like a firecracker ready to explode. Vanilla perfection. Thin and a little buttery, like his pale complexion and cream sweater.

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