Page 10 of The Faceless Omega

She decided to go straight to check the photos while it was on her mind. If she ended up having to rush into her day clothes and grab a drive-thru breakfast, it wouldn’t be the first time.

Transferring the file from her phone to her laptop proved to be easy, and for peace of mind she scrolled to the end of the list. The photos were labeled with time and date stamps. She hadn’t been sure of the hour by the time they slipped upstairs, but she was sure she hadn’t been in the ballroom that late. Her finger hesitated for just a moment before she clicked on it.

Her lungs froze. The photo was dark, and there was something almost string-like obscuring the image from top to bottom, but she could clearly identify Lennox on his back. Obviously nude, obviously on a bed, looking almost directly at the camera. His arms were stretched up and she realized his hand was the only reason her nipple wasn’t visible. The string-like obtrusion was probably her hair.

Brinley swallowed hard, forcing air back into her lungs.Worst-case scenario, then.She would find all the pictures from after they’d left the ballroom and delete them. She knew how to do that. No one else would ever see these photos.

****

Lennox wasn’t overly surprised when he woke up to an empty bed. He was certainly used to it, but for once—for perhaps the first time—he’d hoped he wouldn’t. Thanks to whatever damnable lotion she wore, already her intoxicating scent barely lingered. And the sheets beside him were cold.

She’d left a while ago.

He didn’t bother restraining the growl that unfurled from somewhere deep inside him. It was easier to be agitated than to think about why. It was easier to shove from the bed and stomp through his morning routine than stop and examine why, after only one night, he felt anything less than grateful. He should have felt fucking amazing.

Omegas were rare, usually and for damn good reason zealously protected, and to find one flitting around and willing to share her perfect body for a single night of passion was unheard of. He’dmeta couple of omegas in his thirty-six years, but he’d never bedded one. Not until her.

Lennox leaned into the tiled wall as the heated spray from the showerhead beat down on him. It wasn’t the sex that was the problem.

It was the empty ache sitting on his chest now that his still nameless omega had disappeared. Hell, he didn’t know what her face even looked like on a normal day. She’d gone to almost extreme lengths to reduce her risk of being identifiable. Had that been a misunderstanding of how seriously they took the stupid masquerade? Was it a precaution she’d taken under the assumption that she might encounter one or more aggressive alphas? Or was it something else altogether?

He ground his teeth and forced himself to turn. They hadn’t exchanged names, though he’d let her see his face. He could walk out of this room and let her have the anonymity she likely assumed she would have from him. That was what heshoulddo. Even if she had recognized him, even if she thought she knew something about him, they were strangers to each other. He had no real business bulldozing whatever her personal life was.

His hand froze mid-lather, the soap nearly popping out of his tightened grip like some comedic scene, and another growl vibrated his chest.

No matter how thoroughly she suppressed herself as an omega, she was gorgeous. She had just enough spunk to make her memorable and intriguing, and she was smart. Alphas like him weren’t the only kind of men she had to be wary of. She was a desirable woman in a big city. Why the fuck did she not have someone keeping an eye on her?

How many other men thought they stood a chance with her?

Not fucking happening.She may not have let him mark her last night, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t his. And just because she hadn’t shown her face or shared her name didn’t mean he couldn’t learn those things.

He would find her, he would woo her, and the next time she left his bed it would only be to follow him into the kitchen.

Chapter 5

The Butterfly Effect

Brinleydroppedintoanopen seat on the Metrobus and let her head tip back for just a second. Her eyes already hurt from staring too hard at a screen—specifically, from squinting at badly lit, blurry pictures and trying to determine whether or not they were salvageable. She shouldn’t have been surprised that so many had proven to be useless. On the other hand, that meant she was rushing off to work without an actual article written for submission. She now needed to beg for one or three more hours to pull tiny threads from the photos still on the drive into one cohesive story.You’d think it was Monday.

The bus started moving again and a body plunked onto the seat next to hers.

Brinley braced herself to straighten and chug the chain store coffee she held in her hand. She honestly hated riding the bus, especially since the city had changed the pay system, but sometimes she had no choice. Parking in Miami was terrible.

The passenger at her left bumped into her shoulder in a blatantly purposeful nudge. “Morning,” an accompanying female voice said. “How’d it go?”

Brinley jolted upright and found herself staring into bright blue eyes that were far too clear for the early, emotionally exhausting morning she’d had. “Excuse me?”

The other female lifted a hand over the top of her face, covering everything above her nose, then split her fingers horizontally in order to peek through. Mimicking a mask. The motion drew Brinley’s attention, for a split-second, to the silky black sleeve with lace detail that covered the woman’s arm.

Understanding slammed into her and Brinley sucked in a breath. “Holy crap.”

The woman smirked as her hand lowered back to her lap, revealing a face that was, in fact, vaguely familiar. Smooth, blemish-free skin, dark red lips, and hair a similar color to Brinley’s own shade of blonde, but longer and pulled partially back in a waterfall braid. “So?” she prompted.

Brinley blinked, still feeling stunned. This was the woman who’d pulled her winning raffle ticket from the bowl in that spontaneous event at the mall. An entry of one ticket had cost two dollars, but everything was supposed to contribute toward hurricane relief efforts, so she’d participated. A two-dollar donation really wasn’t much, but it wasn’t enough to break her, either. That was how she’d viewed it. Until this woman had called her number. “You … did you just … why are you here?”

The other female tsked at her. “I wanted to check in,” she said. She raked her clear-eyed gaze over Brinley as if appraising her. “I guess I have my answer, though.” Mischief sparked and her smirk widened. “Good night?”

Heat flashed through her and Brinley pulled the coffee closer as if it might defend her. “The party was fine,” she said stiffly. “I wore the wrong shoes, so I didn’t dance much. Probably for the better.”

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