Page 12 of Orri

ORRI

My hands clench the pure marble of the sink, knuckles as white as the tile. My haunted face stares back at me, almost mockingly.

In the other room, a beautiful omega is sleeping, and my cum’s still all over her back. It’s all I can do to keep from rushing back in there to take her again. Or to scoop up my seed and press it into her slit, making sure she was full of me and ready to make a baby.

This isn’t like me. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.

I thought I could control my impulses. I thought I could give her what she needed. But I couldn’t even do that.

“She’s not yours,” I repeat, staring at myself in the mirror. “And I can’t be hers.”

But with each painful beat of my heart, everything in me screams to go back out there and make her mine. I can’t. That’s all there is to it. I thought I could, but I can’t.

Not after Zannah.

Thoughts of her lovely face flash through my mind. Her sparkling silver eyes, so different from Isabella’s dark orbs. The flush of her cheeks when she laughed. The quivers of her body when we lay together, and the soft, tender aftermath that followed.

Back then, I had everything I needed. Zannah was supposed to be my heart-mate, and everyone knew just how serious a bond like that could be. An alpha without his heart-mate could, at best, live out the rest of his days alone. At worst? He’d go mad from the loss and grief.

Was that what this was? I leaned over the basin and stared into my blown-out pupils, looking for an answer. I didn’t even know anymore, and that scared me.

I forced my fists to my eyes and groaned. Clenching my teeth, I tried to slow my breathing and focus on Zannah. Focus on her scent. On her sounds. Of the promise I made to her as the life faded from her eyes…

“Dammit!” I curse as quietly as I can. I don’t want to wake Isabella, but the storm of emotions raging in my heart right now are louder than the roar of a rocket leaving the planet.

Dragging in a shuddering breath through my nose, I let it out slowly and search for calm. I can do this. I’m an alpha, not some mindless animal. It’s what we both need to stay unattached. That’sifshe even wanted me in the first place, which she doesn’t.

Heat makes females say all kinds of crazy things.

And in some ways, she’s in the same boat I am. She lost her alpha only days ago. I can still smell him all over the cottage, including the bedroom. I hate how angry that makes me. I hate the fierce impulses that drive through my being, begging to go back in there and cover her with my scent again and again.

I’m doing the right thing…aren’t I?

I want to believe that, but why did sex with Isabella feel so much different than sex with Zannah? And why, whenever I try desperately to call Zannah’s face to mind, to remember how she felt in the heights of passion, I seeherface there instead?

I’m going mad. That’s all there is to it. Turning on the faucet, I run my hands under the cold, bracing water and splash it onto my face. I pick up a washcloth and wipe myself down. Her scent is still all over me, invading my nose and taking up residence in my heart.

Maybe if I can just erase her scent…I scrub harder and harder until my skin’s irritated and sore. It’s no use. It’s like she’s sunk into my very being, and no amount of water or soap will wash her off.

As I toss the rag in the laundry basket and turn for the door, I catch sight of myself in the mirror again and can’t stop myself from mulling over the situation.

Is this my punishment, then? For failing to protect Zannah? For letting my heart-mate die?

I close my eyes against the pain. I knew the day I lost her that I would grieve her loss for the rest of my life. I just didn’t know it would be likethis.

With a groan, I grab a fresh washcloth and head back out into the bedroom where she’s still sleeping. Isabella looks so peaceful like this. So innocent. Her mouth parts slightly in sleep, eyes lidded and hair tousled. She’s still naked and covered in my scent, and it takes everything I have not to wake her and tell her how I really feel.

I would only ruin her.

So, holding back my instincts as much as I can, I gently wipe down her sweaty, cum-covered skin. My touches last just a second too long, but I never said I was perfect.

At the end of the day, she deserves a real alpha. One who actually has a heart to give. I’ll never be that alpha.

CORAL

ISABELLA

When I wake, I’m sore and alone. Pretty much what I expected, to be honest. The events of the last night are hazy at best, but I do know one thing.

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