Page 91 of The Rejected Omega

My apartment feels smaller than it did this morning. Connor’s scent still lingers. No amount of cleaning is going to erase it, and I shouldn’t find that as comforting as I do.

I drop my bag on the counter and slump onto the couch, staring blankly at the TV remote on the coffee table. The silence feels oppressive.

I close my eyes and will myself to breathe through the ache in my chest.

I’ve been here once before. I can do it again.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The next week at school,Roy slides into my booth in the cafeteria and smacks his tray down, a maniacal look on his face.

“Holy shit. Connor Masters is your mate.”

I haven’t seen or talked to Connor, but I’ve heard reports. News spread quickly after he showed up to class with his mark and my scent on full display. The scent of an alpha or omega you spent your heat with took a while to fade without some serious chemical deodorizers.

I still, put down my fork, and brace myself to be grilled. I was only pushing my food around on my plate anyway.

“You’re not mad?”

Roy cocks his head. “Why would I be mad? You finally broke out of your weird, tragic nun routine, and by all accounts he’snota terrible human being, which is saying a lot for an alpha from Crestwood.”

“Because I kept it secret. I hid it from everyone.”

“You’re gonna have to give me the whole story one day. But right now I just need the heat deets.”

“I’m not ready to talk about it.”

Roy groans dramatically. “Pleaseee? I’m dying here.”

I shake my head.

“Word among the gays is he’s started working out with all the MMA bros. Apparently they draw quite a crowd. We should go watch.”

I stab a cherry tomato and burst it between my teeth. “No, we shouldn’t.”

“Please, Lana! I’m one of your best friends, yet you refuse to tell me about your week of nasty sex with one of the hottest guys Crestwood has ever produced. I need this.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine.” I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t eager to lay eyes on him. It’s been several days, and the silence is killing me.

The gymnasium was recently upgraded after a large donation—possibly from Mac Masters himself—and the cardio and weight sections were expanded to include a yoga area and a padded ring for various mixed martial arts.

I rarely had time to go, but I’d quit my job at the grill—fuck giving them two weeks’ notice, they didn’t deserve it, and it left me with too much time to think. Maybe I could quiet my demons with exercise.

I walk with Roy to the gym and change into a pair of thick black leggings and a pink racerback tank in the locker room. I pull my hair into a ponytail in the mirror, then wince and pull the elastic back out. Several hickeys and bite marks Connor left on me were still fading.

Hopefully Connor isn’t here right now. Then I can just lose myself in sweat and a true crime podcast. I need to plan ahead for our last tutoring session in a few days. Surely I can spend an hour alone with him in a room without the world ending?

But I smell him as soon as I rejoin Roy and we swipe our IDs at the door. He’s been sweating, and his scent makes my stomach clench. I swallow thickly. “Fuck.”

Roy laughs, and I resist the urge to punch him.

I make a beeline for the treadmills, refusing to glance in the direction Connor’s scent is wafting from.

Of course, the only machine free right now is the one closest to the padded ring.

Roy picks an exercise bike directly facing the ring, and I roll my eyes at him.

I last a mile before I take a peek. His scent has bloomed, and there are sounds of skin smacking mat and low grunts.

---