Page 34 of Happy Valentine's Day, Omega
I contemplate my first move. I studied three strategies for this match, but wasn't sure which one would be right on the day.
Now I know.
He's feeling cocky, thinking he has the advantage. I need to play into that weakness. It's a risky strategy, but if I can lull him into a false sense of security, Imightstand a chance.
I move a pawn, and the match begins.
The double-faced game clock tumbles mechanically, ticking with purpose as we toggle it back and forth.
I'm focused.
I'm in the zone.
Alpha Novikov almost radiating confidence the whole time.
He's doing things to throw me off. Licking his lips and making little growling noises that make my body shiver in approval. The worst part is, he's figured out my ultimate weakness – his forearms. His shirt sleeves are rolled up, and with every piece he moves, I'm captivated by the expanse of toned skin flexing under the harsh library light. It's obscene and has me utterly transfixed.
His scent is delicious, calling to me to lick his throat and suckle at the source.
He's smug, and shooting me knowing looks.
It's time to strike.
Prepare to lose your mind, Alpha.
Under the guise of overheating from the intensity of the game, I slowly untie the knot of the silken scarf tied around my neck and leave it hanging open.
Any proper Omega would never dare expose their gland to anyone other than their intended mate.
I've never felt like a proper Omega.
To our spectators, my gland still looks hidden, but I know exactly the moment Alpha Novikov sees it.
He stiffens in his chair, and his knuckles whiten as he clenches the edge of the playing table.
I move my omega queen and sit back in my chair. It's a dangerous move, a reckless one.
He looks down at the board, and then immediately back to my neck. He can't focus on anything else.
His scarf.
My exposed gland.
The unspoken promise of possession.
With heavy-lidded eyes, he moves a pawn, completely ignoring my advancing bishop.
It's working. My plan is actually working.
A large palm dips under the table and a deep, low groan rumbles from his chest as he shifts in his seat. Is he…?
His eyes snap up to mine, and the intensity of his gaze sends sparks straight to my core. My panties dampen and I quickly cross my legs.
I move my omega queen.
The scent of bergamot surrounds me, matched by my perfume rising to meet it. The playing table swirls with heady pheromones.
How did I ever think his scent was generic? It's so clearly him. Alpha Novikov, my secret Alpha. They're the same and always have been.
