Page 16 of The Omega Accountant

My skin prickled with sudden awareness, a sensation so primal it cut through my concentration like a physical touch.Theair in the room had changed, becoming charged with a presenceIrecognized before conscious thought could name it.Awarmth began spreading at the base of my spine, radiating outward in unwelcome waves.Ipressed my hand against the suppressor patch behind my ear—a habitual gesture of reassurance—and found the edges curling slightly, the adhesive failing after too many hours.

No.Notnow.

I tried to focus on the screen, on the numbers that had always offered clarity, but my vision blurred slightly as sweat beaded at my hairline.Warmthunspooled low in my belly, dragging heat through my limbs, making the chair beneath me feel too solid, too present.Thehoney-citrus scent that defined my natural biochemistry began seeping through chemical barriers, subtle at first, then unmistakable even to my own dulled senses.

My fingers trembled against my neck asItraced the patch's deteriorating outline, as if physical contact could somehow reinforce its chemical barriers.Thestress of the past twenty-four hours, the interrupted sleep cycle, the unfamiliar environment saturated with alpha pheromones—all conspiring to overwhelm suppressants designed for normal conditions, not crisis.

"I see you found the files."

The voice came from behind me, rich and deep, striking something low in my belly that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with biologyI'dspent years suppressing.Iturned slowly, fighting to maintain composure asMatteoCorvinofilled the doorway with his presence.

He wore a simple black suit, tailored to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders, the lean strength of his frame.Notie, top buttons open at his throat whereIcould see the faint pulse of his scent gland beneath olive skin.Hisdark eyes registered me with the focus of a predator, nostrils flaring slightly as he processed the change in my scent.

"Your suppressants are failing," he observed, the words emerging rougher than his usual controlled cadence.

Humiliation burned through me, hot and unwelcome. "Thepatch is old.Ididn't have time to replace it before..."Igestured vaguely, encompassing everything—the abduction, the penthouse, the claim.

He moved into the room with measured steps, maintaining distance that felt deliberately calculated. "Thereare replacements in the bathroom.Medicinecabinet."

The consideration caught me off guard—practical, impersonal, yet observant of a needIhadn't voiced. "Thankyou."

He nodded once, gaze dropping to the laptop screen where financial data still glowed. "You'vemade progress."

"Some."Ishifted, trying to create additional space between us without making the movement obvious. "Themoney passed through seven different shell companies before consolidating in theCaymans.Fromthere?—"

My voice faltered as another wave of warmth washed through me, more intense than before.Thesuppressor's failure was accelerating, chemical barriers crumbling against biological imperatives strengthened by proximity to an alpha—not just any alpha, but one who had staked verbal claim already.Mybody responding to promises not yet fulfilled with a betrayal of my carefully maintained control.

Matteo went utterly still, the only movement the subtle dilation of his pupils as they fixed on me with heightened intensity.Hisscent shifted perceptibly—sandalwood and cedar notes sharpening with a distinctive undertoneIrecognized instinctively: alpha responding to omega in pre-heat distress.

"You need to replace that patch.Now."Hisvoice dropped lower, something primal threading through the command.

I rose on unsteady legs, calculating the distance to the hallway, to the blue room, to the bathroom he'd mentioned.Toofar, with him between me and the exit, with my traitorous body broadcasting vulnerability with every passing second.

"I'm fine,"Ilied, words emerging tighter than intended. "Ijust need to finish this analysis."

"You're not fine."Hestepped closer, close enough that his scent enveloped me completely—sandalwood and cedar intensified with protective alpha pheromones that spoke directly to the most primitive part of my brain. "Yourbiology is responding to mine.Toterritory.Toclaim."

The blunt assessment stripped away pretense, leaving raw truth between us.Myfingers clenched against the edge of the table, seeking stability as another wave of warmth pulsed through me, bringing with it the unmistakable precursor to slick—the omega body's preparation for alpha penetration, for mating, for potential breeding.

"I don't want this,"Iwhispered, the words emerging as much plea as declaration.

"I know."Hisacknowledgment carried no triumph, no satisfaction—only recognition of biology neither of us had fully anticipated when this arrangement began. "That'swhy you need to replace the patch.Beforeit progresses further."

He shrugged out of his suit jacket, the movement swift and efficient.BeforeIcould process his intent, he held it out to me—a gesture as unexpected as it was confusing.

"Take it," he said, impatience threading through control asIhesitated. "Myscent will help stabilize yours until you can replace the suppressant.Biochemicalequilibrium through proxy contact."

The explanation—clinical, detached—helped me process what instinct had already recognized.Alphascent as temporary shield.Protectionthrough proximity rather than direct contact.Abiological hack to buy time against accelerating failure.

I accepted the jacket with reluctant gratitude, sliding my arms into sleeves too long for my frame.Thefabric enveloped me in his scent—not just sandalwood and cedar but deeper notesIhadn't consciously registered before.Gunoil, yes, but also leather, aged paper, something almost like cinnamon.Complex.Distinctive.Unmistakablyhim.

The effect was immediate and profound.Myracing pulse steadied fractionally, the roiling heat in my core subsiding from urgent demand to muted awareness.Notelimination of biological response, but temporary reprieve—alpha scent satisfying the most primitive part of omega biology without direct intervention.

"Better?"Matteoasked, still maintaining careful distance despite the visible strain in his posture, the tension evident in his jaw.

I nodded, humiliation washing through temporary relief. "I'msorry.Thisisn't—Idon't usually?—"

"Don't apologize for biology," he interrupted, voice controlled once more though his pupils remained dilated, his scent still carrying traces of response to mine. "Justfix it before it progresses further.Forboth our sakes."

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