Page 37 of Omega on Fire

A slow smile spreads across my face. Yeah, this is a win. Not a competition, not a conquest—just proof that she trusts me. That she sees me, not just as a Beta, but as Josiah. And damn if that doesn't make me feel like the king of the fucking world.

I turn back to my monitors, but my mind is elsewhere, chasing after the phantom of her touch.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. I barely register the codes and patterns flashing across my screens, too consumed by thoughts of Charlotte. Bythe time evening rolls around, I'm jittery, anxious, desperate for another hit of her honey-cinnamon scent.

Later, I find her in the kitchen, laughing with Moses as he teaches her how to make his famous jambalaya. The sight of them together, her head thrown back, eyes sparkling, him grinning like a fool, sends a jolt of warmth through me. Because it's happening without us even trying. No jealousy. If I did feel it, I would push it down, remind myself that this isn't a competition. This is about her, about what she needs. And if she needs Moses' quiet comfort, then who am I to begrudge her that?

"Hey, Jo-Jo," she greets me, smile softening as her eyes meet mine. There's a hint of uncertainty there, a question. She's wondering if things are weird between us now, if I'm going to make a big deal out of what happened earlier.

I shove my hands in my pockets, rocking back on my heels as I approach them in my domain. "Hey yourself. Whatcha cooking?" I ask even though I know by the delicious aroma that permeates the room.

Moses answers, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "Jambalaya. My family recipe."

"Smells amazing," I say, inhaling deeply. And itdoes, but not as amazing as her scent, mingling with the spices and heat, wrapping around me like a drug.

I sidle up next to her, nudging her gently with my elbow. "You gonna save some for me?"

She bumps me back, grinning. "Maybe. If you're nice."

"I'm always nice," I protest, feigning offense.

Her laughter fills the room, warm and infectious, and I can't help but join in. This is what I love about her—the ease, the banter, the way she gives as good as she gets. She's not just an Omega, not just a pretty face or a sweet scent. She's fire and wit and strength, all wrapped up in one irresistible package.

Dinner is a rowdy affair, filled with laughter and teasing and more than a few heated glances exchanged. But she saves the best for me—the secret smiles, the subtle touches under the table, the whispered jokes that only we understand. It's our own private language, our own little world within a world.

After dinner, we retreat to the living room, sprawling out on couches and chairs like a pride of lazy lions. The others retreat, again, giving Charlotte space, although they don't notice the roll of her eyes at their retreat. Charlotte curls up next to me, her head resting on my shoulder, and I can feel the tensiondraining out of her, replaced by a contented warmth that seeps into my bones.

"You okay?" I murmur, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Yep, I didn't hesitate, the action as natural as breathing. I smile, content with the fact that she doesn't react negatively at all.

She nods, snuggling closer. "Yeah. Just tired. It's been a long day."

"Mmm." I wrap an arm around her, pulling her tight against my side. "Well, you're safe now. You can rest."

She tilts her head up, eyes searching mine. "With you?"

My heart stutters in my chest. "Always with me, Charlotte. Always."

A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, and she settles back down, her breath evens out as she drifts off to sleep. I stay still, barely daring to breathe, afraid to disturb her. Afraid to break this moment, this perfect, fragile peace.

But as I sit there, surrounded by the soft sounds of her breathing and the steady rhythm of Charlotte's heartbeat, I can't shake the feeling that this is just the calm before the storm. That something or someone is coming to shatter our newfound happiness. And I'll bedamned if I let that happen. Not without a fight. Not without a war. Because this Omega is ours and I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Whatever it takes to make her happy. Whatever it takes to prove that she belongs here, with us. With me.

CHAPTER 15

TRIGGER

The television screen flickers with C-SPAN’s seal, and I already know that whatever’s coming next is going to piss me off. I lower the volume on the rest of the security feeds and lean back in my chair, jaw clenched.

“This is it,” I mutter, eyes narrowing. “The bastard’s making his move.”

Senator Justus Blaine appears behind the podium, flanked by smug aides and stone-faced colleagues. I’d recognize that self-satisfied smirk anywhere. The camera tightens on him, catching the practiced lines of concern that never quite reach his eyes.

He begins, voice dipped in faux-patriotic sincerity.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen of thechamber—and to the millions of concerned citizens watching from home.”

I snort. “Concerned citizens my ass. Try scared Omegas and manipulated voters.”

Blaine continues, spewing the kind of bile that boils my blood.

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