Page 1 of Vallaverse: Twist
Chapter One
Brooks
The Omega beneath me is the embodiment of ripe perfection. She is everything any Valla could ever want or need. Beautiful. Soft. Warm. Giving in to every perceived or anticipated desire I might have. She is exquisite, and I should be grateful for her willingness to attend to my need, but slow-rolling rage is beginning to thread through the heavy disappointment churning inside me. Already, I can feel it, snapping my hips with discontent.
It isn't fair to her. She doesn't deserve this. She deserves more than I or this wretched den could ever give her. It isn't fair, but it is the way of things. This is the way it must be if I am to maintain my sanity and the structure I have fought so hard to maintain.
She whimpers, and through the thick fog of this godforsaken rut, I can't tell if it's pleasure or pain that pulls the sound from her. I don't want to open my eyes again. I don't want to see her. Selfish, I know, and foolish, but I squeeze my lids shut a little tighter for just another moment. I have a rule, that the Omegasface away from me when I fuck them. It feels safer that way for some reason, for both of us. I pushed her onto her stomach before I stretched my way inside her, and she has remained exactly the way I positioned her.
I don't want to open my eyes.
It isn't because of her. She's lovely, and I need to make sure I'm not hurting her before we continue.
I just don't want to see him.
I can’t see his face in my head again.
Regardless of my intentions when I have no choice but to check into one of these vile dwellings, I always end up gravitating toward and choosing an Omega who looks like him. In the early days of this toxic little cycle of mine, I would allow myself the temporary joy of taking a male Omega who resembled him. I did it on purpose. I missed him so much, and I was in such misery that I thought it would help ease some of the hurt. But while I never inflicted actual physical damage onto one of them, the mental and emotional toll on both me and the Omega was more than enough to merit my second requirement. I only allow myself to have female Omegas now. Every house in Santum is aware of my requirement at this point.
Maybe I need to make a new rule that requires any future potential Omega to have light hair and eyes and have no sharp angles.
Another soft whimper drags me back to the forefront, and I sigh as I slowly open my eyes.
I don't want to do this. I don't want to see. It still hurts too much.
The sheet is bunched in her tight fists, her knuckles stark white, but she's still on her stomach with her quivering legs spread alongside mine. I force my gaze to follow the path of her spine, taking in every feminine detail. The curve of the hip. The dip of the waist. The swell of breast against the mattress.Those things should make looking at her easier… safer, but I can already tell they won't by the way the pit of my stomach drops.
I lean down closer to her, letting my chest brush against the soft skin of her back and praying that the feel of her body will be enough to keep me in the present.
It's a mistake. It feels too similar. Too close to how it felt to have him writhing and arching underneath me. His skin was soft too. And warm. I slam my eyes shut again and drag myself out of her as I sit up on my knees. The startled gasp that rushes from her barely registers in the madness of my pulse and frantic thoughts.
Logically, I realize that seeing who she is—and isn't—with my own eyes is the best way to reset the situation. But the terror of it keeps my eyes firmly closed. I have gone into exactly one rage when I opened my eyes to find a different Omega than the one I yearn for. That was years ago, and I cannot allow that to happen again.
The other wretched, and possibly more disgusting, side of this is the silent fear that I will open my eyes one day and be glad it isn't his body splayed across the sheets. If that day ever comes... I don't know. I can't imagine it. But I'm terrified of it.
My throat constricts dryly at the thought.
The Omega shifts slightly, testing the situation. Trying to determine if it's safe for her to move. It isn't. My dysfunctional thought process isn't enough to suppress the urgent thrall of this rut. She's mine for the moment, whatever that means for the both of us.
Seeing her will help. Even if I'm afraid, it's worth the risk. I blindly reach down and roughly flip her over onto her back. I won't give myself any choice but to see her.
When I open my eyes, I force my eyes straight to the most obviously visible difference between her body and the memoryof his. Her breasts rise and fall with her rapid breaths, and I try to lose myself in the rhythm of it.
“It isn't fair,” I murmur hoarsely, unsure if I'm saying it to her or to myself at this point. “I'm sorry.”
Her lips part to say something, but I gently cover her mouth with my palm as her eyes blink up at me. I can't explain it, but hearing her voice right now would be too much. I'm already forcing my eyes to see her; that's enough. I don't need to hear the truth as well. Too much truth might tip me over the edge. Seeing it is enough to keep me tethered.
She blinks twice more, her brows scrunched together in what might be concern. Or confusion. Maybe fear. Probably all of those things.
“Shhh,” I rasp, moving my hand to smooth her hair away from her damp forehead. “It's alright now.”
She doesn't understand what that means or the lie swirling beneath the words. I doubt very seriously that it's alright, and I know it won't be alright when this is all over. I can't do this again. I can't put anyone else at risk, and I can't put myself through it again. I'll finish this, and then I’m done.
I tilt my hips and ease back inside her, sighing as her legs automatically wrap around me. I slowly thrust until I'm seated as deeply as her body will allow, watching her eyes roll back and close. Then I take one last breath before I let myself go.
*
I roar as anguish and ecstasy overcome me. Every feeling I've pushed aside for the past three days comes rushing back to me all at once. Anger twines with fulfillment. Guilt wars against satisfaction. Shame and pride fight, unsuccessfully, to overcome each other. My body is floating in a sea of peace and slick while my mind and heart howl with the horror of it.
