Page 7 of The Rejected Omega

I draw the phone away from my ear and frantically press pound, a small sliver of relief trickling into me.

He will come.

Then a robotic voice crackles over the line.

“We’re sorry, this user’s voicemail box is full. Your message cannot be delivered.”

I fall to my knees. All the breath in my chest is sucked away, leaving this clawing, graspingvoid.

I can’t do this alone. Riding out a heat unassisted is brutal for omegas who’ve been mated for years. Going solo for myfirstheat, with a bond as strong as mine and Connor’s must be? It’s insanity.

I send another text with shaking fingers, more slivers of glass slipping beneath my flesh.

I need you. Please call.

I heave in a broken sob as I wait for a response that doesn’t come.

Panic begins to take over, and I smashcallover and over again, hanging up as soon as that fucking voicemail begins to play.

“Hi, it’s Connor Masters?—”

“Hi, it’s?—”

“Hi—”

I’m quickly descending into the stereotype of the desperate, crazy omega. But why is he ignoring me? Ineedhim. I told him—I told him I needed him to be here.

My fingers are bleeding freely over the phone screen now, threads of red sinking and spreading through the cracked glass.

Seven rings becomes five, then three. The way they do when someone screens your call and presses end prematurely.

My next call immediately connects to his full voicemail. He turned off his phone.

I shudder.

“He isn’t coming,” I whisper. And somehow saying it out loud makes it finally register as true. As real. This is really happening.

I am going into my first heat without my mate.

I’ve never even heard of it happening. It’s unthinkable. Tantamount to abandoning someone at the altar, with magnitudes more physical discomfort.

He is withher. Fuckingher. Kissingher. Nosing against her glandless neck the way he’s done with all his beta girlfriends since the onset of puberty.

Something sharp and jagged saws through my chest, splitting it open. The bond, stretching to its breaking point. A fraying rope rapidly unraveling. The cables suspending a bridge snapping down to the finest metal wires.

My soul feels stripped raw.

Alpha?My omega whimpers.

She hasn’t come to terms with how hopeless our situation is yet.

There are more angry voices outside the tent.

“His scent shouldn’t have been within a fucking mile of here if he wasn’t present. It’s the height of negligence.

“You broke the rules, Mac. The rules exist for a reason.” says another male voice.

“He promised me he’d be here. I don’t know where the fuck he is. Maybe something happened?—”

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