Page 96 of The Rejected Omega

I inspect myself in the mirror and cringe. I’m fucking ruined. There’s no mistaking that I just got fucked hard in a public bathroom.

I stand on shaky legs and wipe the hair out of my face.

The ass of my leggings is torn open, and I have Connor’s cum dripping down my legs, more slipping free with every second.

Connor smears his thumb across my bottom lip.

“Beautiful.”

He rifles through his gym bag, then pulls out a black hoodie and ties it around my waist. He pats me on the ass.

“That oughta get you to the parking lot. See you Wednesday.”

I frown. “Connor?—”

“Wednesday, Birdy. Let’s not ruin the afterglow.”

The bathroom door swings shut behind him. I scrub at my face in the sink, working up the gumption to leave. I realize now what he’s done. Any alpha will smell him on me and know what we’ve just done. Smell him dripping between my thighs.

My cheeks flame. I feel like I’ve got a scarlet letter blinking on my chest as I walk through the gym to leave. Roy, of course, is nowhere to be found.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I’min my final advisee meeting with Dr. Craven on Wednesday morning when she brings up Connor.

“I talked to Mr. Masters, by the way.”

“Connor?”

“Yes. Charming young man. He said you’ve been a great help to him this semester. I know he didn’t need all that much assistance, but I appreciate you humoring me and the board. I’ve gone ahead and sent my recommendation letter to my colleagues at several grad schools on your list.”

“What? Really?

“I know you’re hoping for early acceptance.”

I didn’t have to attend Connor’s final session. But if I didn’t, what then? What if he went back to the West Coast, and I didn’t see him again? There was too much unanswered between us.

“Have you reconsidered staying local?”

I jerk my head up to her. “I—maybe. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Dr. Craven just nods as I gather my things and float out of her office in a haze.

What the hell is Connor doing? Why would he wait till now to give me an out?

I’m hours early to the library, so I sit outside our study room and try to study for finals. After thirty minutes of doodling spirals and chewing my lip, I start pacing the stacks.

I don’t recognize my own life anymore. Everyone around me continues like nothing’s changed, but there’s been a tectonic shift at my core.

Finally, the time for our session arrives, and I go into the study room and take deep breaths of his lingering scent.

Five minutes past the hour, he’s still not there. Panic starts to drum through my chest. I call Connor, and his phone rings seven times. I mash end before I can find out if he’s got that same accursed voicemail recording.

My phone pings a second later. It’s a text message from Connor—an address, nothing else. It’s local, I can tell that much, but I don’t recognize it off-hand.

I send a question mark in reply, but I’m already opening the address in my maps app and walking to my car.

His sudden absence is making it clear how much I don’t want him to leave. How much I need him in my life.

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