Page 60 of Fallen Omega

Is it because I fucking marked her? I have no idea. I haven’t marked anyone before. I edge around, sipping the wine.

“You ruined my life,” she says, all snarl and claw.

“On the bright side, we helped you and kept you safe through your heat.”

Her gaze slams into me. “I’m stuck here!”

To my horror, she gives a gulp and then she covers her face with her hands, dropping to the bed. Her shoulders shake.

Is she fucking crying?

Shit, she’s fucking crying.

“Hey…hey…” I down my wine and set the glass on the dresser as I pass. Then I go to her and I kneel. I stroke a hand over her damp hair. “It’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t.” She looks at me, cheeks a little damp, but the tears are gone. “I just want the world to be normal again. I don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to marry that horrible old man.”

“I get it.” I almost say I’m not sure a wedding’s involved, that it’s about claiming and mating which is far more binding than a wedding, but I decide not to. “But right now you’re here.”

“Where I don’t want to be. No one wants to be a prisoner or a guest who isn’t allowed to leave.” The bitterness bites the air. Then her lip trembles. “I miss my dad.”

“It’s going to be alright.” I shift closer and so does she and suddenly all I can think or breathe is her.

She’s clutching my shoulders, pulling me in, and I do the same until she tumbles down on to me and our mouths fuse in a slow, deep kiss.

It’s carnal and sweet. Sex and romance. And connection.

It’s a fucking drug, and it starts to morph into more, into wild licking heat. And I start to tug at her top as she pulls at my T-shirt. I want that spot again, just to suck, it’s so heady that spot on her throat, the perfect taste and?—

“Jesus F., Knight,” Darcy snaps from the door.

I push Lizette away from me as she scrambles free. We’re both breathing heavily, and she won’t look at me. I get it. I’m one of Darcy’s pack alphas, and I sure as fuck don’t want to look at her.

Woman’s got a stare of disapproval that could fall a fucking army.

I scramble up. “I was?—”

“Dante sent me to get you. And tell you to get out. Now.”

I do and slide past her and her tray of food. The door slams.

I’m halfway to my room when I’m grabbed by Dante, who slams me into the wall. “Do you have a death wish?”

“No.”

“Then we have work to do. And if you step out again, I’ll hand you to Reaper.”

Fuck.

Chapter

Thirteen

Lizette

“Look,” Darcy, the blonde goddess, says, dumping the tray on the bed. “I get it. I do.”

She so doesn’t. It’s in her tone.

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