Page 22 of Fallen Omega

Oh, he’s beautiful. Caramel curls and a dimple in his left cheek. The pretty one has an easy, cocky smile, and when he looks at me, I’m blindsided.

Utterly beautiful, yes, but the kind of approachable I think I might like. Yet he seems like a man in control, with eyes that sayI see you. I understand.

Then my gaze goes back to the devil incarnate, the man in black.

He’d been alone when I first took note of him,but before…I’d actively been avoiding looking over, like another presence had been there, one that wanted to devour.

The one, I realize, I smelled earlier on the street. The ghostly smoke on the wind.

I didn’t see anyone then. Or when I arrived in this bar.

Then again, I wasn’t looking.

I know, IknowI should have looked—really looked—when I walked in, for possible danger, but the thing is, this place soothes the soul with its mix of scents and sounds and press of bodies.

When I breathe in, there’s the scent of the devil man along with the elements of the unseen one. I search, but I don’t see him. I can only smell the rum-soaked tobacco, roses, and wild chases.

Then there’s a soft and seductive scent with lavender and leather. Something sweet.

There are three of them.

Three different alphas in the same room.

If I merged them, layered them, it would be almost too intoxicating, the kind of combination that would tumble me down, scramble my mind, make my blood rush and slick flow.

“Stop it,” I admonish myself.

The one with the caramel curls is sweet leather and lavender. All things nice and dirty.

I suck in more air, as the man in black gives me a cold, hard look that rakes down my spine, then leaves for the second time.

I turn and stare down into my drink, the noise of the bar coming over me, like it receded when I looked over there.

Pressing hot fingers into even hotter cheeks, I whisper, “Have your drinks, find a store to get a bottle, and then go home.”

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be alone.”

I almost jump a mile.

The musk and funk of warm and woody oud and oakmosssuddenly overwhelms me like I’ve found myself in a damp forest cave. It makes me both want to scramble away and rub against the owner of the scent.

A wave of fear rolls through me.

The man’s nice enough looking, but he’s a different alpha and he’s zeroed in on me.

In my state, my base instinct, the thing that has no right to rule me, starts to surge.

I down my drink, letting the burn of the booze cut through the surge. “I’m not looking for someone, but thank you,” I say.

He laughs. “I’m Jake. And I’m not here to pick you up.”

“Oh, good.”

My nerves are spinning, prickling.

“Do you mind?” Jake points to the seat next to me and sits.

I shrug, deliberately borderline rude. “It’s not my bar.”

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