Page 93 of The Rejected Omega

His opponent taps out, then he’s slipping between the ropes, and he’s right in front of us.

The bond between us sparks, a frayed wire still live.

I step in front of Roy, and Connor’s eyes burn into me. Judging by his scent, he’s about to go fucking ballistic. His shoulders are bunched, eyes dark. My bite on his shoulder looks like something out of a zombie movie—the kind the side character gets right before the group kills them off for the greater good.

Roy slides his hand beneath my arm, holding it out for a shake. I could strangle him.

"Connor Masters. Pleased to finally meet the local legend."

Connor seems to grow a few inches taller. “I recognize your scent. You put it where it doesn’t belong.”

Roy gulps.

“If it makes you feel any better, she tasted terrible.”

“You touched my mate. Youinsultmy mate. Care to make strike three?”

Roy glances between me and Connor, a mischievous gleam lighting his eyes.

“What about that time I helped her wax her?—”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Connor snarls and lunges. He grips Roy by the back of the neck and pulls him forward until their foreheads are touching. He has at least six inches on Roy, and the effect is intimidating.

I do the only thing I can think of to defuse this situation.

I duck under Connor’s flexed bicep, squeezing myself into the space between them.

“Didn’t know you were into threesomes?—”

“Move, Lana,” Connor growls.

“No. Roy, get out of here. I’ll handle this.”

Roy slips away, muttering something like, “I bet you’ll handle him real good.”

“You think he can hide? I already know where he lives.”

I shouldn’t find that information nearly so titillating. I don’t usually tolerate this kind of toxic machismo, but when it’s Connor, something in me goes weak-kneed at it. I guess it’s because I get where he’s coming from. I know how seeing him with Cassandra felt, and right now he’s still pumped full of hormones and unresolved tension after his rut.

“He’s my friend.”

“I know who he is. I’ll never forget his stink marring what’s mine.”

I put my arms around Connor’s neck and lean into him, ghosting my breath over the bite. Connor shudders and grips my hips. The tips of his fingers dig into the top of my ass.

I fish for that ragged bond in my chest and urge it toward him with my mind.

Connor hangs his head.

“What are you doing here? This is my space. My time. And you come in here, smelling like that, and it drives me fucking insane.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I guess I wanted to see you.”

“You did?”

I slide my fingers through the hair at his temples and raise my lips to his. “Mhmm.”

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