Page 5 of The Rejected Omega

But when I pull up our text thread, all that greets me is my last message to him.

You promised.

I caress the tiny thumbnail of his contact photo, then tuck my chin under the collar, letting his shirt swallow me up. I want to hide. I need more of his clothes. Blankets, something soft to stretch out on, not this metal bench atop cold grass, with the scent of strange alphas and omegas all around.

Long minutes pass, and the heat spreads from my cheeks to my neck. Sweat beads on my forehead like I’m coming down from a fever.

The omega elder returns with a damp cloth and a bucket of ice, her face tightening when she sees me.

She mops at my sweaty brow with the cold cloth, and I lean into her touch.

“What’s happening to me? It isn’t supposed to be like this. No one said it would be like this.”

“I know, sweet girl. I know. Just hold on. We’re going to fix it.”

The elder tends to me until the scrape of the rag against my skin grows too sensitive, and I bat her away.

“Use the ice if you need it,” she says before exiting the tent again.

Time passes in a blur as I rock back and forth on the bench.

There are raised voices outside the tent.

“Where is her alpha?” the omega elder asks. Her voice is much less gentle now.

“We don’t know. He’s not here,” says a male.

“What do you mean, he’s not here? I’ve got a freshly mated omega going into rapid heat—with a nearly full-strength bond, from the looks of it! Where thefuckis he?”

“Lower your voice! You’re going to upset her.”

“She’s going to be a lot more than upset if he doesn’t get here soon. Which one of you idiots let this happen?”

“He was supposed to be here,” a new voice says. “I assumed he was just running late.” His scent and the tone of his voice is familiar. Connor’s father.

“I’ll have your head for this, Masters. Get him here,now. She’s not going to last long.”

I whimper. It’s too hot inside the tent. My jeans are soaked between my thighs and my nose is full of Connor’s scent, but the stark reality that Connorisn’thereis starting to hit me. He must have planned to come, if they had his scent, but changed his mind at the last minute?—

Because of Cassandra.

Anxiety shoots through me, and I rub the shirt against my glands again, seeking the relief of his scent.

Find alpha, my body urges me.Need alpha.

The comforting scent of the shirt fades as it mixes with my sweat and pheromones. I need him here in the flesh. Need to bury my face in his neck and lick his glands until he smells likemine. Need him to cover me in his scent, to mark me with his cum, just like he had this shirt.

The thought spawns a fresh gush of slick and a throbbing between my thighs. The wet patch of denim between my legs chafes.

“He isn’t responding to my calls,” Connor’s father says in a low voice. He must think I can’t hear him, but all my senses are in overdrive, seeking out signs of my mate.

I fumble for my phone again. Connor frequently screens his father’s phone calls, but he will answer me. I never call him, not unless it’s important.

He will realize I need him.

Will answer.

Will come for me.

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