Page 59 of The Omega Trials: Part One

She’s zeroed in on Bishop. Even though she’s still standing a few feet away from me, it’s like I’m not even in the room. She bites her lip and squeezes her legs together. Inhaling, I can smell her slick pooling between her thighs.I bet she’s not wearing anything under that . . .

“Alpha,”she whines, and my stomach twists from knowing it’s not me she’s pleading for. Her cheeks bloom pink and her eyes are hooded and lusty.

It feels like I’ve touched a live wire, watching her, scenting her, hearing her and knowing I can’t do a damn thing. I push down the rut wanting to flood my system and turn back to Bishop.

Before I can say anything more, he growls. “My omega needs to be fucked and knotted. Stay or get out, but it won’t stop me from giving her what she needs.”

Sinclair’s breath hitches at his words and her heat perfumes the room, making my jaw tighten and my head split.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

“Where’s Ecker? Maybe he can talk some goddamn sense into you,” I mumble more to myself as I storm out.

The headboard starts banging before I’m halfway across the common room.

“This certainly wasn’t on my Trials bingo card, but I guess it was bound to happen at some point.” Ecker sips his old-fashioned, looking out at Bishop and Sinclair dancing together—more like dry humping. I roll my eyes.

“It’s just another one of her games,” I grumble and pick up my drink, becoming even more annoyed when I realize it’s empty. I scan the glitzy parlor room for a waiter. It’s our first brotherhood night. A chance for Trial packs and established Echelon members to mingle.1

I’m not the kind of person whomingles.Tonight was already going to be like getting lobotomized and kicked in the balls simultaneously, but now I have to watch a lust drunk Sinclair in a slinky dress all but fuck my brother on the dance floor.

Dousing myself in gasoline and lighting a match sounds more enjoyable than staying here for the rest of the night.

“If Bishop of all people can forgive her—”

I slam my fist on the table. “He didn’t forgive her. He wasplayed.”

“I mean, we did fuck her up pretty bad, Ti.” He chuckles, but there’s a hint of something in his voice. Something I hate to admit that I recognize.

It’s the same something that made me flip when Bishop asked about her in the infirmary.

Guilt.

And it hurts like a fucking bitch.

“Shedeserved—you know what, never mind,” I scoff. “Where the fuck did all those damn waiters go?” I look around thecrowded room, searching for one of the servers I saw earlier dressed in over-the-top tailcoat tuxedos.

I survey the room, but the decor is going to give me fucking vertigo. The crimson carpet is swirled with gold designs that blend right into the matching wallpaper like some posh padded room.

All around the room is ornate parlor furniture, chaises with mohair upholstery and intricately carved wooden frames. Drunk Elders lounge around with high-class omega house girls fawning over them. The only other omegas belong to the Trial packs. Which makes me wonder if what Ecker said is true. Was bonding bound to happen?

So far, I haven’t gotten any glimpse into what becomes of pack omegas after the Trials. Based on the lecherous old men in this room drooling over young, pretty whores, I doubt it’s a happily-ever-after ending.

The thought sits sour on the back of my tongue. After all this, are we expected to just give her up?

You don’t want to keep her, idiot,I remind myself.

So why does the thought of losing her sting so fucking much?

The bitterness only grows as I watch her dance with Bishop. She moves like water and silk. His hands glide over her, and my palms burn as I imagine his hands are mine. She sways her hips, and he pulls her back tight to his front. They grind together and he trails his nose and mouth over his bite on her neck.

My cock leaks in my suit pants, thickening as my eyes catch on the way the candles in the room illuminate the gold in her eyes when she twirls. My poor dick doesn’t know any better.

My lungs clinch when she suddenly turns our way. I feel like I’ve been caught watching porn. But then I realize it isn’t me her hooded and sultry eyes are staring at. Irrational indignation replaces the deer-in-the-headlights feeling as I track her gaze to Ecker.

He slides down in his seat, dragging his thumb across his lip, and drums on the table between us with his other hand. He exhales a husky chuckle, keeping his eyes on hers, but utters under his breath to me, “Is it just me, or is she looking at me like she wants to jump my goddamn bones?”

“It’s just you,” I grumble.

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