Page 80 of Fallen Omega

But I ate her out.

With her, the rules of the play didn’t seem to exist.

Could be the mark fucking Knight left on her. I had the sense to keep away from her throat. The rest?

Fuck, she riled me beyond anything before. Shone a light. Made a connection that felt like we knew each other, could see into things.

This is, I decide as I pull out my cigarettes, ignoring the look of disapproval on her face, as the caught feelings morph to confusion, nothing more than false intimacy. A false closeness brought on by similar kinks.

By the bite, the mark, the brand, the bond—whatever you want to call it.

I don’t pretend to understand how it all works, how Knight’s mark can affect all of us. But I think it does.

There’s not a blood bond between us.

Doesn’t have to be.

Our pack has three strong alphas who share the top position.

We are the lead alphas. The core pack.

Fuck. I hate the wordpack.

It’s never sat right since I was a kid. Since that fucker tried to kill me after he decided he was bored of using me as his punching bag.

I ended that. By ending his life.

I don’t even remember how old I was when I slid the knife he used on me between his ribs as he slept. I remember everything else. Perfect clarity. Waiting for his eyes to open as he woke only to die. I wanted him to see my bloodied face.

My eyes.

The last thing he ever saw.

After, I stared in the mirror. Face black and bloodied, skin split open here and there, the only thing alive staring back was my eyes. Black fire. Pits of hell.

Dante found me. We didn’t know each other that well. But he was older; he helped burn the house, and find someone to sew me up.

After that, things blur. Another pack, one of the misfits,took us as no one wanted to care for the freak kid with the Frankenstein’s monster’s face.

It suited me fine. They left me alone.

So, why do I feel at home for the first time since finding Dante again?

Maybe I’m caught in her headspace of the hunt’s aftermath.

I put the cigarette between my lips.

“Why did I feel like I knew you intimately?” Lizette whispers. Her gaze meets mine. “I still do. Out there, when it was life and death…I knew it wasn’t and I was safe, but I was also fleeing for real…out there, it was like I could see into you. Knew you intimately without knowing anything about you. Like the details of your life were on display. The thing that makes youyou.”

I don’t say anything. My phone’s buzzing in my pocket. Dante. I don’t need to look. He can wait.

“I-Is it normal? Or am I seeing things? Making it up so I’m not so…” She shakes her head.

Lonely. The word she isn’t saying. Lonely.

The girl who grew up loved. But isolated.

“Not so ridiculous,” she says, her words soaked in her lie.

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