Page 33 of Knot Their Omega

The mere idea of him raising a hand… err… fistmy way makes me freeze, as if I’m the one in the wrong. I must have made some sort of noise because he freezes mid-stride, the action best described as a robot coming to a dramatic stop when the battery runs out.

Our eyes are locked in now, and how intense this sprouting connection is between us. It’s palpable, vivid, and makes me want to melt in his hold.

Stay there, knowing deep within, I’m untouchable in his grasp.

Droplets begin to hit me from above, and even those cold beads of water can’t break this lucid dream that I dare say is my reality.

When they explained what it’s like to meet your scent match, everyone made it sound like something out of a fairytale. The sense of peace, happiness, and excitement is matched with the essence of joy and pure relief that riddles you all at once.

Some described it as walking into a place of paradise and realizing among the fields of your favorite forms of fulfillment is someone you can share those admirable items with.

Whether it’s your favorite smelling flowers or unique sweet pastries. You conclude that in this vast world, there truly is a set of individuals sculpted to match you and be the missing links needed to make you feel complete.

Truly whole.

Mind-boggling, overwhelming, and slightly frightening to take it all in at once, but in this intense confrontation of stares, I can say I’m relieved that it’s him.

That he’s one of my Alphas.

Something yanks me roughly to the left, making me screech as I’m not simply pushed to the side. My whole body goes flying straight into the cement wall.

The action is intentional, and damn, it takes the breath out of me as I fall to the ground, gasping for breath.

Am I in pain?Fuck yes.However, on immediate impact with the ground, I’m very positive nothing is “broken.”

Good, because I’m about to fuck this man’s life up for touching me.

The grit of my teeth ignites a muffled war screech before I’m a second from pouncing from the ground and tackling this man to the ground. I realized in a second that the one who threw mewas Dark Coffee Spinach—of course, his dirty hands would try to hurt me when he got humiliated.

I’m already envisioning punching his face into a flat pancake, but my eyes widen when a fist not only punches into his left cheek, but I hear the way his jaw cracks upon impact.

I cringe at the sound while mesmerized as I see multiple teeth shoot out in the same direction as Alvin’s soaring body. It happens in slow motion in my mind, but with two blinks, I’m turning my head to confirm Alvin’s loud crash into the wall, which follows with a ‘thump’ into the pile of trash bins and waste where I punched his other friend.

With two down, I realize there are three more, but I can’t even move before I’m watching limbs turning in odd directions while listening to the loud outcries of agony coming from these men who were ready to “teach me a lesson.”

Now, who’s being taught the lesson of not messing with an Omega?

It’s hard not to be in awe because watching Mr. Sexy Beast in action is truly enchanting.If you can even label fighting with such a fragile terminology.

His white dress shirt is gripping his bulging muscles for dear life as he moves them swiftly, despite his enormous frame. His speed is undeniably marvelous and executed with experience with every punch, kick, sidestep, and evade.

His stance and fluid movement proves he’s not only fought before, but he’s fucking good at it. I can envision him in the heart of a ring or a cage, in nothing but boxers, dripping in sweat as he’s ready to face his opponent with a scrutinizing gaze that promises suffering and misery.

By the time the final crunch of a broken bone—I’m assuming are ribs because the last Alpha is gasping for air as he crumbles to the ground—reaches my ears, I’m finally able to acknowledge all five men are down for the count.

And there’s only one man standing.

His shoulders move up and down as he catches his breath. I can tell, even by the depth of his inhales, that he’s barely worked up.Was that even a workout for him?His fists are clenched and bruised but still intact compared to his opponents, who all have some form of injury that’s going to take them a minimum of six weeks to heal.

Broken bones. Good luck when you don’t have money.

I realize these men really didn’t think properly before picking a fight because they’ll no longer get Alpha Health Insurance with them being bankrupt and banned from Elite events.

Making it harder for them to get an Omega, which, in turn, forces them to lose many privileges, making their lives harder in fulfilling their duties as Alphas.

I’m confident that’s only one of the many problems they’re going to face. Adding the obvious humiliation they’ll feel when they wake up in the hospital after losing to one Alpha makes me carry an ounce of pity for them.

Sympathy. Not Empathy because fuck them. They were going to hurt me if the opportunity was just right.

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