Page 68 of Your Wild Omega

Swinging my legs over the bed, I rock unsteadily to my feet. Between a mild hangover and only a few hours of rest, my head thumps like someone’s playing a drum inside. I brace one hand on the wall as I stagger to the wardrobe and pull on fresh underwear, a T-shirt, and a pair of sweatpants. Warm woolensocks protect my feet as I slip out into the hallway and set the central heating a few degrees warmer.

Callisto’s room looms at the end of the hall, and I pad silently over to it, slipping inside the door.

His full-blown cherry wood scent fills the space, as if he left only a moment ago. I never allow myself to come in here, since he’d be able to smell my presence, but now I cross to the king-size bed and sit down.

Done in a palette of grays, the bedroom reflects the tidy, efficient man. A set of bookshelves line the back wall, custom-built around the bedhead, and filled with classic literature and a few mementos from his childhood. Behind me, a huge panoramic photo of lightning in a desert hangs on a pale gray wall. The contrast to city life is so extreme I wonder if it has meaning for him. Shining brilliantly? Leaving your mark on the world like a blaze of light?

Who knows.

I rise and open the floor-length white curtains which match the bedspread. Morning light streams through, making me wince. This side wall, made of glass, opens out onto a private balcony overlooking the city, with a chair and a plant tucked into one corner—made of plastic because Callisto’s never home long enough to keep a real plant alive.

I snort softly to myself and return to the shelves, running my fingers over the memories. A trophy from the senior baseball team championship. A plaque from a summer English extension program. I remember when he went to that one, because I’d recently moved into the Wren home and I missed his presence.

Strangely enough, this room might be the only one that doesn’t contain a trace of his legal profession, as if he’s denied entry to anything work related. When he sleeps, he sleeps.

I turn slowly, scuffing my feet in a thick gray rug. The room speaks of elegance, wealth, and success.

And it’s so bitterly empty.

A lump catches in my throat. Even if I wasn’t seeing Calli every day due to our combined hectic schedules, at least he was around, his scent refreshing semi-frequently and the covered meals disappearing from the refrigerator.

But now it all stops. The mood was already icy between Zack and Callisto, but all that tension has finally come to a head. The part I hadn’t considered was that Red might’ve been uncomfortable with Callisto’s courting. How deeply his initial rejection must have scarred her. But if anyone can understand the pain of rejection, it’s me. She’ll move on, the razor-sharp edges of loss healing until she can live without trouble.

But the denial itself never fully goes away.

The whispers that maybe you aren’t worthy of a family. Maybe you’re flawed. Those thoughts stick like burrs.

My fingers graze over something glossy and I move a book to investigate, discovering a strip of three photo booth images underneath. A lump lodges in my throat as I look down at a younger version of Callisto and I, grinning and throwing peace signs. I sink onto the bed, gripping the pictures. We took these at the school’s annual festival.

My vision blurs as I stare at the bottom photo, where Callisto playfully rests his chin on my shoulder. For years he had my back, fighting off bullies and reassuring me I wasn’t a waste of space . . . even when my parents couldn’t stand being around me.

The first tear rolls down my cheek, ice cold and stinging. I clutch the glossy strip to my heart as if I could cling to the man pictured within. Then the floodgates burst open, and I curl up on the bed full of my first love’s scent, sobbing.

He’ll be back, sleeping in these sheets or burning the midnight oil in his office, the light shining under the door in the dark house. Red will open her arms to him, ask if he’s learned a lesson about rejection. We’ll be a family like I always dreamed,sharing a bed and sleepy kisses in the mornings. Unable to resist the allure of his smoking hot omega, Callisto will stay home more. Naked and writhing in bed, we’ll accidentally touch while pleasuring Red. Zack will manhandle us over each other, sweating bodies slipping into the most erotic positions.

And then, inhibitions blown away with haze and pleasure, Callisto will slide his hands down me, touching and exploring, lazy at first, but then turning desperate as if to make up for lost time as he realizes what my eyes have been saying for years.

I want him.

My breath catches, the vision combining with the sweet timber scent in the room to make my cock hard.

Not pack.

Agony lances through my heart and I whimper. Gingerly I reach out and drag a pillow over my mouth to silence the broken sobs that shake my whole body. The dream is gone, forever out of reach. Zack himself said pack exists always, not later.

And Callisto shredded that possibility for us all. The damage has been done.

“You stupid man!” I rasp, the pillow smothering my frustrated roar. “How could you, Calli? Just once, I needed you to choose us over work. Just once.” My voice cracks and I arch on the bed, the inner pain so overwhelming I can’t remain still. Tears soak the pillow, refusing to stop, no matter how much I squeeze my eyes.

I don’t blame Red for turning him away, and I can’t blame Zack, not when he’s got a direct feed to our omega’s emotions. He sensed something that Red herself was struggling to put into words.

Maybe what hurts most is that Callisto didn’t turn my way last night. He didn’t look my way, didn’t beg me to help him.

Given the alpha aggression Zack was putting off last night, I know Callisto had to keep his attention on the dangerous one, but I’m the man he’s known longer.

If he’d turned my way and asked for help, I could’ve intervened. Could have said it was a topic to discuss when we weren’t all tipsy and strung out.

Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like my heart is shattering now.

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