Page 229 of Unhinged Omega

Fuck it.

I drive my shoulder into the door, splintering the lock with a loud crack. The door flies open, and I stumble into the room?—

Then freeze.

The scent hits me first. Rich and sweet, like honey warmed in the sun, but with a soft undercurrent that's unmistakably Raven, but... different. Wrong. Or maybe too right in all the ways it shouldn't be.

He's curled up on his bed, which is now framed in thick, dark swatches of fabric hanging from the ceiling, forming a protective tent around the mattress. There are blankets tangled around his legs, golden hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. One of those blankets is mine, but I'm too focused on the state he's in to process that properly. His chest heaves with each rapid breath, and even from the doorway, I can see the tremor in his hands.

"Fuck," I mutter. "Again?"

Blue eyes snap to mine, fever-bright and furious. "Get. Out." His voice is a ragged hiss.

I should. I know I should. But I can't make myself move. Can't drag my eyes away from the flush spreading down his neck, disappearing beneath his half-unbuttoned shirt.

"What crawled up your ass?" I ask, trying for normal and failing spectacularly as my voice comes out rough.

Raven's laugh is bitter, edged with something dangerously close to a sob. "This is your fucking fault."

"How the hell is itmyfault?" I snap, defensive heat rising in my chest.

"You won't touch me," he snarls back, struggling to sit up. "And you've made damn sure no one else will either."

I grunt, irritation mixing with an unwelcome surge of relief. At least the men are obeying my orders. But looking at him now, sweat-soaked and miserable, clearly suffering, I can't bring myself to feel good about that.

I hesitate, then take a cautious step toward the bed. Then another.

"Don't," he warns, but there's a hitch in his voice that contradicts the command. His tone is dangerously close to a whine. A sound he shouldn't even be capable of producing.

Sometimes I'm not sure if this is all the result of that dead bitch's sick conditioning, or if she just exploited what was already there. I'm not sure I want to know. Either way, it's strange magic capable of exerting a control over me it shouldn't have.

Every alpha instinct I possess is screaming at me to either flee or claim. The scent pulls at something primal, making my body respond in ways I don't want to examine too closely.

It's far from the first time I found him like this. It happened just a few months after I pulled him from that brothel. That first time, I thought he'd somehow gotten into a stash of drugs. Wasn't until later that I understood what was happening.

Back then, all I felt was confusion. Concern. Uncomfortable, sure, but there wasn't any pull to his cloying scent. He was too fragile, too vulnerable. All I knew was I had to make sure no one ever took advantage of him in that state again, and being the one to do it was the furthest fucking thing from my mind for a myriad of reasons.

Not the least of all being the fact that I've never looked at another man that way. Certainly not another alpha.

Not until…

I don't even know when it started, really. When these episodes of his started becoming more than just a pain in the ass, because it meant I had to be twice as aggressive aboutkeeping my men from sniffing around him. And alpha or not, he's pretty enough that I've seen curiosity in the eyes of the most unflinchingly straight among them.

Lex is the only one I can trust to enforce my orders when he's like this, but his episodes freak her out and I don't trust her to watch him closely enough without taking off.

I wishIhad the same trouble.

"You just had one of these a couple months ago," I say warily, keeping my distance. "It's getting more frequent."

"You think I don't know that?" he snaps, teeth bared. His pupils are blown so wide the blue is just a thin ring around black. He looks feral. Desperate.

I run a hand through my hair, trying to think past the way my skin feels too tight. "There has to be something we can do."

"Not with you cockblocking me at every turn."

The thought of any of my men touching him—doing what would need to be done to break this fever—makes something dark and possessive curl in my gut. But he's right about one thing. He's suffering, and that's on me.

"Can't you just... go fuck an omega at a brothel or something?" I ask, the words awkward on my tongue.

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