Page 42 of The Omega Trials: Part Three

I hesitantly let Penelope lead me away. I start to think we are going to the dining hall, but when we don’t take that turn, I ask, “Why does this feel like a trap?”

“I don’t believe it is, Omega.”

“What kind of answer is that, Penelope?” I scoff lightheartedly.

I soon realize we are headed toward the Great Hall, and I can’t help my body’s physical reaction. My chest tightens with only bad memories from behind those doors. “Do you know what this is about?”

The corner of her mouth tugs in a shy smile. “I believe so, Omega.”

I laugh lightly, trying to dispel my budding anxiety. “And you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

The corner of her mouth tugs in a shy smile. “No, ma’am, I’m not.”1

We reach the grand entrance doors and my heart thumps heavily.

“This is where I leave you,” Penelope says softly, and I nod, reaching for the door, my heart in my throat.

The first thing I see is the reflection of dancing flames on the polished marble floor. Memories of the ceremony come rushing back to me. Hands all over my body, causing pain. Anger. Heat.Lust.

But unlike the ceremony, candles form only one circle rather than five. A pool of white silk rests in the middle on the floor. Titus stands behind it.

He’s breathtaking.

Candlelight casts the handsome angles of his face with shadows. His broad shoulders and strong arms fill out a white dress shirt, his hands in the pockets of black slacks.

My bare feet pad across the cool marble. “I feel underdressed.”

His eyes drag down my body, making chills trickle down my arms. “You’re perfect.”

“What is this, Titus?” My voice sounds so quiet in the vast, empty hall.

He meets me as I step into the circle and takes both of my hands. The silk is soft under my bare feet. “The chance to rewrite our story.”

I take in the scene, so hauntingly familiar to the one where our story began.

When I first stepped foot in this hall and saw the candles and masked men, I was terrified. No matter how strong I tried to be, the fear was near crippling. The lack of autonomy only compounded everything. It was a weight I was sure would break me.

Now, I feel none of that fear.

I stand unbroken.

In no small part due to the man in front of me. He coordinated with Penelope and set all this up for me. A brute with a tender heart, one I’m so grateful he’s shared with me.

I’m so touched, I can barely get my words out, emotion choking me. “I don’t want to change our story because it led us here. Is that what you want?”

“I want . . .” His jaw clenches and he swallows tightly, as if unprepared for my question and struggling to find an answer. “You,”he finally says in a gravelly admission, and the tension between his brows melts away, the simple truth lifting an invisible burden.

“That’s good.” I reach up to cup his face. “Because I’m yours. And not because some ceremony made me so. I’m yours because Iwantto be.”

My gaze drops from his storm-gray eyes to his mouth. His tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip, and I have the inexplicable urge to brush my thumb across it. My skin sparks. “Alpha,” I breathe.

“Omega.”The word slips almost silently from his lips.

The air crackles with electricity. I pull his face to mine. My stomach flutters like this is our first kiss. But when our lips finally meet, it’s never been clearer that all our pain and suffering was absolutely worth it for this moment right here.

His fingers spread across my hips, and he tugs me close. My chest flush with his, I fling my arms around his neck, my hands gliding up the back of his head. Kissing him feels like a free fall—breathless, untethered, and on the precipice of great love or great destruction.

I choose the former.

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