Page 12 of Omega's Fire

I push away from the wall and begin the long climb to my fifth-floor space, walking fast. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it. Whatever it is can wait until I get up to my room. Until I can think clearly again.

The climb leaves me breathless, though whether from exertion or lingering adrenaline, I can’t tell. I fumble with the padlock I’ve installed on the door swearing under my breath when the key sticks.

Finally inside, the silence feels oppressive, broken only by my still-uneven breathing and the distant sounds of traffic. My body burns with a restless energy. It feels like the early signs of pre-heat, though my cycle isn’t due for weeks. Proximity to a high-compatibility match could trigger it, according to the medical literature. Fuck them for doing this to me.

I can still smell him on me. The memory of how he’d looked at me sends another wave of heat through me. Those dark eyes, intent and focused. The way his voice had dropped when he said, “You feel it. The bond. There’s no point denying what your body already knows.”

Arrogant ass. Beautiful, brilliant, arrogant ass.

I strip off my jacket, tossing it on my mattress with more force than necessary. My skin feels too hot. I need a shower.

I grab my toiletry bag and a clean towel, then head downstairs to the shower room. I check that the makeshift lock on the door is secure before stripping down.

The cool water does nothing to calm the fire under my skin. If anything, the sensation of water trailing down my body heightens my awareness. Each droplet is a deliberate caress that makes me shiver despite the heat building inside me.

Nash Thorndike’s face refuses to leave my mind. The perfect cut of his jaw. The intensity in his eyes. The way his scent had wrapped around me.

“Stop it,” I growl. “Get out of my head.”

But he doesn’t leave. Instead, my traitorous mind supplies new images: Nash moving closer, those strong hands reaching for me, his voice dropping to that register that had made my pulse jump.

I turn the water colder, attempting to shock my body out of this spiral. It doesn’t work. The ache only intensifies.

“This is just chemistry,” I tell myself as I shut off the water and towel dry quickly in the chilly room. “It’s a purely chemical reaction. It means nothing.”

But the words ring hollow as I catch my reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink. My skin is flushed. My pupils are dilated. And yes, my cock is so hard, it’s painful and despite the shower, slick is still rushing out of me, coating my thighs. I’m going to have to put a pad between my legs.

I make the long climb back to my fifth-floor room, my wet hair cooling against my heated skin. Once inside, I fall onto my mattress with a frustrated groan. My hands begin to wander almost of their own accord. I close my eyes, trying to think of anyone, anything but him. But it’s Nash I see. Dark eyes, those strong hands, that mouth that probably tastes like pure heaven.

“Damn it,” I whisper, giving in to the inevitable.

I imagine his weight pressing me into the mattress, his scent surrounding me, his voice rough with desire against my ear. My breath catches as I picture his hands on me, gentle at first, then more insistent.

My movements become more frantic as the fantasy builds. His mouth is on my skin, trailing heat down my neck, across my chest. The pressure of his teeth, the graze of his stubble. The overwhelming feeling of his hard cock as it pushes into me,filling me completely.

Nash,” I gasp, the name escaping before I can stop it.

The release, when it comes, is intense and infuriating. I lie there panting, equal parts relieved and horrified. I lie on my back, arm flung over my eyes, body still humming with aftershocks. The edge has dulled, but the underlying awareness remains, a persistent tug towards him.

“I hate this,” I whisper to my empty apartment. “I hate all of this.”

My phone buzzes again, insistent. I reach for it reluctantly, scrolling through the missed notifications. Three messages from Meg. One from my mother. Two from unknown numbers—journalists, probably.

And one from the Bureau itself. I open it with a sense of dread settling in my stomach.

OMEGA MATCH BUREAU

Re: Compatibility Match #89274-O/Thorndike-Torres

ACTION REQUIRED: Attendance confirmed for formal bond ceremony intake. 09:00 hours, Central Bureau Office. Non-attendance will result in administrative penalties pursuant to Code 13.6.

I stare at the message. Thorndike said he’d set the ceremony for tomorrow. He’s summoning me. Like a dog to heel.

Well, he can fuck right off with that. Just because we have chemistry doesn’t mean I’m going to sink to my knees and let him collar me. The thought sends a flash of heat into my belly.

No. Don’t think of that. Just because we have chemistry doesn’t mean I’m going to obey the jerk. There is no scenario in which I would voluntarily walk into that building tomorrow.

Okay, I wasn’t expecting this strong a physical reaction, but it doesn’t change anything. All it does is give me more information.

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