Page 81 of Fallen Omega

Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s a compromise, a way to step back from her bleeding honesty.

In my experience, ridiculous and lonely tend to intermix.

Removing the unlit cigarette, I contemplate her words.

“We were rough, dirty, in a game you got caught up in. I like primal play. It’s blood, heat, violence. The hunt. That feeling you had of life and death. It’s in you, too.”

She takes a breath and nods. “Is that why it’s like I know you?”

“I’m not sure.”

That connection hums in me. Alive. Present.

“Maybe,” I say. “We see what we want to see. A reflection of us, a glimpse of something to weave a tale around.”

“Youdidn’t feel it?” she asks.

That’s too far. “I’m the monster you get to deal with the other monsters. An ex-con. I murder and protect what’s mine. But I leave things alone if they leave me alone.”

It’s not an answer. But it’s the best I can give. This isn’t like any kind of conversation I’ve ever had, and I’ve been forced into therapy. Once.

Her complexity and loneliness make her insightful. And she probably recognizes the parts of me that is human. Experiences that have left marks.

She sees me.

“You can do what you want, but I recommend staying inside. One of us will drop back in to check on you.”

Lizette stands and comes up to me, and I smell us on her. The funk and musk and heat and wildness. Sex. Need. All of it. All at once. “Are you running away?”

“When one of us comes by, in a few days, you can probably head home, or get out of here. I would recommend keeping away from the Council. Unless that’s the life you want.”

“Reaper?”

She puts her hand on my chest, over my heart.

“Go rest, little omega,” I say. “Try and sleep.”

“Well, at least you didn’t apologize.”

I drop my gaze back to her face and cup her cheek for a moment. “For what?”

“For what happened?”

“I never apologize over shit like that. It was mutual?” She nods. “It was good.”

“I want?—”

“Everyone wants.” I step back and leave.

Everyone does want. Even me, it seems. Even fucking me.

“Did you fuck her?”

I blow out a stream of smoke, rum next to me in the command center of Pandora’s.

It’s not what it’s called. I call it that because, in here, I can watch all corners of each floor. Even the private areas for private parties.

We make sure things don’t happen.

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