Page 11 of Dance Omega Dance

I hated how much I wanted to lean into it.

His skin brushed mine, warm, solid, a little calloused at the edges. Real and alive. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until that touch sent a shiver racing through me.

"We need to get you out of here before another shock brings more down." His clinical tone didn't quite match the intensity in his eyes. "Can you put your arms around my neck? I'll carry you."

The thought of being that close, that dependent on him, sent a jolt of panic through me. "I can try to walk," I protested, already knowing it was impossible.

Before I could respond further, a more significant aftershock rumbled through the building. Debris shifted above us, and Blake moved with startling speed, shielding my body with his own as dust and small fragments rained down. His arms formed a protective cage around me, his broad back taking the brunt of the falling material.

The shock subsided after several seconds that felt like hours. Blake remained frozen above me, his face now only a breath away from mine. I could feel his heart hammering against my chest, his body tense with a readiness to protect.

"We need to move," he said, his voice a low rumble that I felt as much as heard. "Now."

Without waiting for further agreement, he slid one arm beneath my knees and the other around my shoulders, lifting me against his chest with careful strength. The movement brought fresh pain, but also an unexpected sense of security as he cradled me against him.

“I’ve got you now, sweetheart.” His voice was a low murmur against the chaos, steady in a way that made my chest ache. “You’re safe.”

Safe.The word shattered something inside me.

My throat clenched, and before I could stop it, a tear slipped free, soaking silently into his shirt. Just one, but it carried everything; pain, fear, exhaustion, all the pieces I hadn’t been able to name until now.

He held me steady, unshaken, as he carried me out of the dark.

Toward the light.

And for the first time in what felt like forever... I let him.

Chapter Five

My fingers fisted into the fabric of his shirt as he carried me out into the sunlight, past the crumbling remains of the Royal Theater. My heart still pounded, panic still clawed, but my body, myOmega, recognized him in a way I hadn’t expected. Like it was wired to seek him out.

Another slight tremor passed through the building as we approached an exit. Blake tensed, pulling me tighter against him as he braced in the frame, shielding me from potential falling debris. Our faces were close again, his eyes intense as they searched mine for signs of fear or pain.

"Almost there," he said softly, the words meant only for me despite the chaos around us. "I've got you Summer. I've got you."

In that moment, with dust swirling around us and the ground still unsteady beneath his feet, I believed him. That, perhaps, was the most frightening thing of all.

I froze for a long moment, reeling as I tried to process the extent of the devastation through the haze of shock. Plumes of black smoke stained the sky and caught in my throat. The metallic scent of ruptured gas lines mixed with the oily stench of churned-up asphalt. It was too much.

Blake lowered me onto a patch of cracked pavement, his hands never leaving me, his gaze sweeping over my leg.

Blood. Too much of it. I hadn’t noticed before... shock, maybe? But now the pain lanced up my thigh with every heartbeat. A jagged piece of metal had torn a gash across my calf, and I whimpered, clenching my fists to keep from screaming.

“Shit,” he muttered, and then, without hesitation, he reached for the buttons on his shirt.

In one fluid motion, he ripped the fabric wide open, revealing hard muscle and a trail of sweat slicked over skin and scars. My breath caught in my throat, but before I could even process the image, he was already tearing the shirt into strips and re-bandaging the wound.

“Hold still for me, sweetheart,” he said, voice dark velvet edged in steel.

He bound the makeshift bandage tight around my leg, his fingers pressing hard to stem the bleeding. Every brush of his skin against mine made the need worsen, the instinctual part of me responding with a treacherous hunger. My body didn’t care that I was scared or in pain. It only knew that I was an omega, injured, bleeding, and being tended to by a strong, protective alpha.

One that smelled like the forest after a rainstorm, and something just a little dangerous.

“Your ballet shoes,” he said, looking down at them.

I followed his gaze. My pointe shoes were in tatters. Taking a deep breath, I bent down. There was no way I could walk far in these, especially with the waist, seam, and wings destroyed and the box squashing my toes.

“Here,” he said, bending down. “Let me.”

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