Page 9 of Omega's Fire

We know it’s not easy, even a prime match. Even heaven requires a period of adjustment. All major life changes do, even the good ones.

I’ve spent my time since the match notification researching Leo Torres. He really is gorgeous even if he does think I’m -- what did he call me -- oh yes, a lapdog. The corner of my mouth twitches. I smooth my tie and glance at my watch.

Leo will either be deliberately late as a minor act of rebellion or he won’t show at all. My money’s on the latter but I really hope he shows.

He can’t put it off forever and I can’t wait to finally feel the moment that I meet my soul mate. From everything I haveresearched, it is meant to be electrifying.

“Dr. Thorndike.” The Bureau liaison, a trim beta named Bartholomew Sun, enters with a tablet in hand. I know him vaguely. My office is on the other side of the building, but we’ve crossed paths occasionally. “Can I offer you coffee before we begin?”

“No, thank you.”

Sun nods, taking a seat across from me. “I should warn you. Mr. Torres made a public statement contesting the match this morning. Nothing formal yet. It was all through social media, but he’s clearly intending to pursue legal channels.”

“Yes, I’ve seen it,” I allow myself a small smile. “I’d be disappointed if he hadn’t.”

Sun hesitates. “His case has some merit. The blood drive registration could be seen as—”

“Procedurally unconventional, yes,” I interrupt, my voice cooling several degrees. “But completely legal, as I’m sure the Bureau’s counsel has already determined. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this meeting.”

The door swings open with enough force to rattle the glass wall behind it, and then—

Holy shit.

Pressure builds behind my sternum, like the warning vibration before an earthquake. The air suddenly feels thicker, heavy with pheromones.

Leo Torres stands in the doorway, body rigid with tension. His blond hair falls across his forehead in a way that suggests he’s been running his hands through it for hours.

There are shadows beneath his eyes and a tightness around his mouth that speaks of sleepless nights and clenched teeth.

He is the single most beautiful thing I have ever seen. My entire body is tingling, focusing only on him. Sun disappears. The introduction room disappears. The world consists ofnothing but Leo. My mate. Finally.

I was going to play this cool but suddenly that seems extraordinarily stupid. He is mine and I am his. There is no need for games between us.

“You’re here,” I whisper.

His reaction to me is just as obvious as mine is to him. His scent spikes. I can scent slick beneath it as his body reacts to mine. It hits me with unexpected force—warm citrus undercut with something like fresh rosemary. It’s distinctly omega, but without that cloying sweetness that they often have. I have to consciously regulate my breathing to maintain my composure. His pupils are blown wide and he is breathing as hard as I am.

Then Leo’s eyes narrow, the color intensifying in the fluorescent light. He grimaces and takes a single step into the room. “I’m here to file my formal objection. Nothing more.”

Okay, maybe Iamgoing to have to play it cool. My omega has pride. He’s not the type to just surrender because he has been told to. It’s one of the things that makes him the perfect match for me.

I need to win him over, court him. With our chemistry, our ending is a foregone conclusion but that doesn’t mean I should take him for granted. He is going to choose me. It’s inevitable, but he needs to feel like it is his choice.

“Your objection is noted.” I gesture to the empty chair across from me.

Leo’s lips curl. They’re soft, very kissable. I wonder what it is going to feel like to have them on mine, explore his mouth with my tongue. That scent is already driving me wild. I can barely imagine getting to taste it.

“I’ll stand, thanks.” He remains by the door, as if ready to bolt at any moment. Sun clears his throat awkwardly. “Perhaps we should start with the formal acknowledgment of—”

“No,” Leo cuts him off. “Let’s start with the fact that I wasregistered without my consent. Let’s talk about how that’s the foundation of this entire farce.”

I sit back down, arranging myself comfortably. I keep my voice measured, as if we’re discussing the weather instead of the course of our lives. “We’re not here to debate the registration process. We’re here to acknowledge the match.”

“I don’t acknowledge anything,” Leo snaps, taking a step forward despite himself. “I reject the match.”

“Based on what grounds? Personal antipathy? Political disagreement? Neither is a valid basis for rejection.”

“Based on the grounds that I don’t want it,” Leo says, and his voice drops to something dangerous and low.

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