Page 71 of Waiting for Fate
His head whips toward me, a guarded expression on his face.
“I know you said-“
“Nothing has changed, Sabine. I have no intention of sharing you with another, and you have Fate matched mates waiting to return to you.”
Sharp pain lances through my heart as he completely dismisses the idea. Do I mean so little to him he won’t even try? It isn’t like all packs fuck their omegas together outside of a heat. There have to be omegas who spend time with their mates one at a time, right?
“I—you won’t even consider meeting my other mates to see if you’d get along with them?”
Shiloh shakes his head, pushing to his feet and walking to the door with his dirty dishes in his hands. “It’s me or them. There was never any other option for us.”
The door closes behind him, leaving me shattered on the weathered floor of his balcony. “Please stay.” My whispered plea is carried by the breeze, lost like the scattered pieces of my heart.
I just want someone to stay. To choose me. Was I so terrible in my past life that the Fates have cursed me to be bound to men who walk away?
Ridley may have spent our time together during the tour repeating his desire to claim me, but as soon as he was free to do so he left to chase a madman.
Lex refuses to do more than acknowledge our connection when he loses control of his instincts.
And Orion… His past is a hurdle he isn’t close to overcoming.
Four mates. Four men who won’t choose me.
Blinking tears from my eyes, I mentally brush this crushing spiral away. I’m Bea fucking Powell. Badass band manager and an omega who knows how to stand on her own two feet.
I won’t let anyone get in the way of my happily ever after. Fate matched mates or otherwise.
Collapsing onto my scentless, borrowed bed, I grab my phone and start a video call with my bestie. Focusing on Omen’s mate drama should be a great distraction from my own heartache. And I need to check in with her now that my heat is over. She had text me a few times and might be worried after I didn’t answer.
“Hey,” she greets. I suck in a sharp breathe when her face comes into focus on the screen. She looks like shit. Dark eyed and pale skinned, the physical effect of her chemical rejection are clearly taking a bigger toll on her than she is letting on. Even with medicine that is supposed to mitigate the worst of it.
“I’m alive,” I joke, wincing when the corner of her lips falls. “Sorry, poor taste. I was in heat, that is why I didn’t respond to your messages.”
Omen’s nose scrunches. “An early heat?”
“Yeah.” I shrug. My heats have been regular since I presented as an omega, unlike Omen who took several years to regulate. It is unusual to have my heat start early, but with the stress I’ve been under over the past few weeks, it isn’t completely unexpected. My close proximity to three of my four mates could also be a factor. Biology is complicated when you have to factor in heats, ruts, bonds, and Fate matched mates.
Grinning, I wiggle my eyebrows at her. “But I didn’t suffer through this heat alone!”
“Did you find a heat helper who could assist you last minute?”
“Nope!” I pop the p, earning a raised brow in response. “Shiloh.”
Omen’s jaw drops before snapping shut again. “So much for no employer/employee romance, huh?”
Rolling to my stomach, I prop my phone against the headboard and rest my chin on my hands. “I don’t know if romantic is the right word to describe what happened between us. Sensuous, filthy, carnal. Those might fit better.”
“Was it everything you dreamed of?”
“Post-heat, I feel amazing. So yes! Absolutely yes!”
A mischievous twinkle lights her green eyes, bringing a liveliness she has been lacking since her mates caused her to experience a chemical rejection several weeks ago. My heart squeezes, feeding the tiny ember of hope I’ve been harboring for her future.
“Was it better than your tattooed mystery helper last heat?”
Heat flushes up my neck, burning across my cheeks when flashes of the heat I spent with Orion flicker through my mind. With everything that has happened to Omen, and her declining health, I haven’t told her he works for the label. Or about our date.
A croaky laugh rattles through the speaker, turning into a cough that has my smile slipping away. I open my mouth to ask if she is alright, but she cuts me off with a sharp shake of her head. “We’ve talked circles around my drama for weeks. I want to hear about what is going on in your life. Please.”
