Page 6 of The Rejected Omega

His omega.

Hismate.

His best fucking friend, supposedly. I may not be able to come right out and say the words ‘You’re my mate, I need you,’ but he can pull them out of me. Will sense something is wrong like he always does and make me tell him what I need.

I select his name from my favorites—it’s the only one there, besides the sushi place in town—and presscall. I wait several rings. Then a click.

“Hi.”

“Connor—”

“You’ve reached Connor Masters. Leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you. Or better yet, text me.”

His voice, pleasant and toe-curlingly deep since ninth grade, is pure seduction now. I whimper and end the call, then immediately dial again.

Seven rings. I climb off the bench and pace around the tent while I wait, toeing off my sneakers and socks so I can sink my toes into the cold grass.

This tent is too tiny, too hot, too impersonal.

Too alone.

Everything thatcouldgo wrongisgoing wrong. I want to crawl out of my skin. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

“Hi, you’ve reached Connor Masters?—”

I fling the phone across the tent and yank the collar of his shirt over my nose, inhaling deep like a drug. I seek that calm it instilled in me at first, but the returns are diminishing, chased away by the growing fever in my body.

The beep of an incoming text message is like a siren’s call. I lunge for the phone where it lies face down in the grass.

Please don’t be broken, please don’t be broken.

The screen is badly cracked, but I swipe my thumb across it anyway, glass digging into the pad of my finger.

The text is long. He was probably in the middle of typing it when he ignored my second call.

Hey Lana. I’m really sorry I didn’t make it. I came over to Cassandra’s before the ceremony, and we had a long talk. She felt insecure about me attending because she’s a beta, and I want to respect that. I think there could maybe be more to this than just a casual fling for once, you know?

Forgive me?

I feel like someone slugged me in the gut.

I suck in deep, heaving breaths.

He isn’t coming. He isn’t coming, because he’s with another woman. His girlfriend. Hisbetagirlfriend. He is going to fuck her tonight, instead of his mate who is going into heat.

He doesn’t know.

It’s okay.It’s okay.

I’ll call him again. I’ll leave him a voicemail, something Ineverdo, and he will know I need him—know to call me back.

I mash call again, smudging blood and tears across the shattered glass.

The seven rings take forever. The voicemail recorder clicks on, and I heave in a deep breath.

“Connor, this is Alanna. I guess you know that.” I let out a shuddery laugh-cry.

“I need you to call me back. Please, it’s important. Like life or death important. I need you. Something—something happened at the ceremony.”

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