Page 50 of Omega's Fire

“Dammit, Leo!” I slam my hand on the desk, alpha pheromones flooding the room as my control slips again. He drives me insane. “Why must you fight me on everything? Even when I’m trying to help?”

Leo doesn’t back down. I’m starting to think he doesn’t knowhow. Instead, he steps closer, his own scent rising to meet mine. “Help? Seriously? In what world are you helping?”

We’re too close now, barely a foot separating us. I can see green flecks in his blue eyes, count each rapid breath, even catch the subtle changes pregnancy has wrought in his scent. It’s richer, warmer, impossibly more enticing.

“It is help,” I say, my voice dropping lower despite my best intentions. “With no strings. No Bureau. No bond. Just support. Safety. Stability.”

“Pretty words.” Leo’s voice has softened too, though whether from conviction or the chemistry crackling between us, I can’t tell. “But we both know what happens when I’m in your space. When your pheromones surround me.”

His words conjure memories of the cottage, of Leo’s heat, of his body beneath mine.

“That won’t happen again,” I promise, though my body betrays me with a surge of desire. “Not unless you want it to.”

“Want has never been our problem.” Leo’s eyes drop to my mouth before snapping back up.

A shiver of lust rushes through me. He wants me. He’s as good as admitted it.

I don’t want you.The thought of those four words no longer hits the way it used to. It’s obvious now they were a lie.

Leo steps even closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “Back out of Jones’s press conferences. Publicly oppose the protest ban. Put action behind your supposed ethics.”

“My position here—”

“Is more important than the right thing,” Leo’s disappointment in me is palpable. “Some things never change.”

“It’s not that simple,” I argue, fighting the urge to reach for him, to pull him against me.

“Poor Nash.” Leo’s voice drops to a whisper, sarcasmthreading through. “Always trapped by circumstances beyond your control.” But he doesn’t step away. He doesn’t increase the dangerous proximity between us. “I can’t trust you,” he adds softly.

“You don’t have to trust me to accept my help,” I reply, equally quiet. “Let me at least make sure you and the baby are safe.”

“And what do you get out of it?” His eyes search mine, looking for the trap.

“The knowledge that my child isn’t being raised in a condemned building with no heat or reliable plumbing.” I want to touch him so badly my fingers ache. “The chance to be part of my baby’s life from the beginning.”

Leo’s scent shifts subtly, the sharp edge of anger mellowing. His eyes drop to my mouth again, lingering this time.

“Leo,” I say, his name in a way that sounds like a warning and a plea at the same time.

“I hate that you’re here,” he whispers, swaying slightly closer. “On my campus, complicating everything.”

“I know.” I don’t move. “But I’m not going anywhere. Not now.”

“Because of the baby.” It’s not quite a question.

“Because of the baby,” I confirm. “And because of you.”

His breath catches. “There is no ‘because of me.’ That ship sailed when you had me dragged away in handcuffs.”

“And yet here we are.” I risk raising my hand, not touching him, but letting it hover near his face.

“Chemistry,” Leo says dismissively, but he doesn’t move away from my hand. “Nothing more.”

“Is that what you tell yourself when you dream of me?”

Leo’s eyes widen, then narrow. “You assume a lot.”

“I observe.” My fingers ghost along his jawline, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the heat of his skin. “Yourpupils are dilated. Your breathing has quickened. Your scent has changed since you entered this room.”

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