Page 53 of The Omega Trials: Part Two

“Hmm,” I say with a flirty sense of doubt, encouraging her to try to prove her point.

One of her arms slinks around my neck as she drops into my lap. I don’t hear what she says because I’m counting down in my head.

Five . . . four . . . three. . .two . . .I finally allow myself to glance toward Sinclair.

My stomach swoops as I find her intently watching my interaction with Majestic. Her face is cold, but her eyes are simmering. We lock gazes, then I slide my hand from thearmrest onto Majestic’s thigh. Sinclair clocks the movement, and I catch the slightest twitch of her lip, as if fighting back a sneer.

My pulse picks up when Sinclair’s eyes narrow and her jaw ticks as Majestic leans in close to whisper something in my ear before trailing her lips down my neck.

Every little reaction is a hit, making me crave more and more, needing something stronger,harder.

I get exactly that when Majestic drags her hand across my chest and down my abs. Sinclair shoots to her feet and storms down the hall.

The alpha in me ignites. There are few things an alpha loves more than hunting down pretty prey.

“Sorry, Maj, you were wrong about tonight.” I pick her up and deposit her in my seat when I stand up to leave.

“You goddamn tease,” she scoffs playfully.

I head across the room, and she calls after me, “I hope she’s worth it.”

She definitely is.

It’s easy for me to follow Sinclair’s scent, even with the dozens of conflicting ones. My heartbeat steadily increases the deeper into the dark hallway I go. I’d be worried about losing sight of her in a place like this, but I know she can handle herself. Opulence is a picnic after the Doll House.

My skin starts tingling when I know I’m closing in. The curtain to the VIP room she must have dipped into is still slightly swaying.

Hand clutching the curtain, my heartbeat thunders wildly as I slowly pull it back. Her vivid blue eyes are the first thing I see. Even with the red glow from the lights in the room, they stand out like a laser sight locking onto a target.

Breathtaking.

Heart-stopping.

She’s standing in front of a dance pole set directly into the floor. Behind her there’s a V-shaped upholstered bench built into the corner of mirrored walls.

I step inside. “Omega.”

“Alpha.” She tries to drawl the word in the same bored tone she usually does, but instead it comes out sounding breathy, almost a question.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.” I take a step toward her in the center of the room.

She lifts her chin. “Good thing you know better.”

Another step.

“Hmm,” I muse, unconvinced, with another foot forward. She backs up into the pole.

Even though there’s less than two feet between us, I still take another step. Her breath hitches, spine flattening along the pole.

She has to tilt her head back as I peer down at her. Her tongue flicks out to brush along her bottom lip as she watches me swallow deeply, full of hunger. My body hums being this close to her, so close to having her.

As if thinking the same thing, she reminds me of a fact I couldn’t possibly forget. “You can’t touch me.” Her voice is a mix of desire and relief, light and husky at the same time.

My gaze blazes a path from her eyes to her breasts and back up. Cocking my head to the side, I admit, “Oh, there are so many things I want to do to you other than just touch.”

Her lips part and heat sinks into her gaze, like she wants to descend into hell with me.

It feels like time slows down as I raise my hand and carefully brush her hair off her shoulder, being cautious not to touch her skin.

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