Page 93 of The King's Omega
“She’s fine,” Rigol protested. “She’s in my bed chambers, locked in. In her nest.”
Tarn groaned. “I taught her to pick locks, Rigol.”
Lorn reached over and smacked Rigol on the back of the head. “You fucking idiot! You left our Omega alone after her first heat? She’s fragile right now, and probably thought you left her. Maybe thought you didn’t want her anymore, now that she gave her gifts.”
“She would never—”
Tarn spoke again, his voice rough. “She thought she was merely a tool for accomplishing Rigol’s ends. She asked if I would still speak to her after it was all over and she was nobody special again. It sounded as if she assumed we would discard her.”
My throat seized up. Nobody special? I had to find her. “Tarn, try the Sow. Lorn, ask her friends from the brothel. Vilkurn, the laundry area.”
Rigol let out a hiss. “The stables! Mischief.”
Fuck, yes. Her kitten, the only thing she had brought into the castle. She would never leave Mischief. But where would Vali go, if she had already found her kitten?
We scattered to protect our heart, and I prayed we would get to her before anyone else, in time to heal her wounded spirit.
Vali
Ihad been drowning in need and lust for so long that I wasn’t sure I would ever reach the surface and breathe again. Then I was drowning in an even deeper ocean of pleasure, my body dissolving and rising, one breath at a time, into a star-filled sky of joy, heat, and satisfaction.
I emerged to the distant sound of clashing swords, shouting, and the feeling that something was missing.
Someone.
“Where is Rigol?” My words echoed in the empty room; not even a servant was present. I peered around the nest that was… no longer anything of the sort. I was lying on Rigol’s bed, surrounded by stained, damp multicolored sheets and clothing that stank of sweat and bodily fluids. I couldn’t remember everything that had happened, but I knew Rigol had mated with me, knotted me for hours, while my heat consumed me.
And then he abandoned me in a pile of dirty laundry. Like trash. Like a whore he’d finished with.
Like a tool he’d used and tossed aside.
My breath came fast and shallow; I had to escape this room. I ran to the door, a sheet wrapped around me, and tugged the handle.
Locked. I was locked in. I pounded on the door with my fist. “Let me out! Someone, let me out!” For all I knew, Milian had won, and was coming for me. I had to know what had happened.
At last, a guard outside opened the door, and I breathed a sigh of relief that he was wearing Rigol’s livery. “My lady. Are you well?” His eyes raked over me, taking in my state of undress.
“I-I’m fine,” I answered. Of course, this man probably thought I was what I had always feared becoming, what my friends at the Sow had fought to protect me from. A whore, even if my patron was the king himself. “Where is King Rigol?”
“Gone to meet his troops. They’re cleaning up the last of Milian’s men,” he said, staring straight ahead, his face beet red. So, the battle was still in progress.
“Is the castle secure?”
“It should be, ma’am. But you’re to stay inside. I’m to get you whatever you need.”
“I’m hungry.” My stomach growled. “Can you get me food?”
He saluted, then waited to leave until I went back inside. I had just barred the door from inside when I heard the lock turn. Why? Was I a prisoner?
I threw on my dress—the same one I’d been wearing when Milian had forced me into the room the day before—and rushed to peer out of the window. In the courtyard, only ten of Rigol’s troops surrounded fifty of Milian’s officers and soldiers. My heart pounded with fear until I realized Milian’s men were completely outmatched.
Rigol and his generals’ swords were swinging and swooping in the morning light like golden swallows. Their fighting was less a battle and more a dance, each move perfect and contained, each footstep deliberate and steady. Milian’s men could not say the same, and though red-faced with anger, their slumped shoulders betrayed they knew they had lost.
Gold light spilled everywhere, and when Axe glanced up, I saw that it was pouring from his eyes… from all our soldiers’ eyes.
The story of the King’s Omega had come true, and I was here to witness the end. I watched as Milian’s troops fell to their knees, surrendering. I held a hand over my mouth, stifling a sob of relief and joy. It was done; we had won.
I called out the window, but I was too far too be heard. My men were all there, all together, but none looked up. None were looking for me.
