Page 173 of Stolen Omega

The sight of the planet’s biggest popstar in the flesh stops me in my tracks.

Her songs have always been oddly hypnotic, and I put that down to her Omega status.

Everyone loves her. Her voice is like honey, and she’s beautiful with a sweet nature.

I switch my focus to Kent to avoid sounding like a fanboy when they get close enough to talk to.

“Hey,” I murmur, trying not to stare. “Uh, I need the keys to Zane’s hangar …”

Zelena hands them over.

Kent gives me a wry smile. “He figured you would. We’re not leaving. Not yet.”

I blink at him and let my gaze drift to Zelena.

Oh, holy hell. She’s perfumed recently.

She has a creamy coconut scent that mixes perfectly with the zestier flavor of Dale in my mouth.

I stare, because the ability to speak has abandoned me.

She stares right back, her dark eyes getting wide.

“I, um, I was hoping to talk to you for a second,” she says.

I blink at her, letting her words sink in. Then, I glance at Kent, and he shrugs at me.

“You want to talk to me?” I ask, finally finding words.

She nods and gives Kent a look. He moves away from us, heading back to the hotel abruptly.

Then, we’re alone, and I can’t quite believe it.

I clear my throat. “So, you’re Zoey.”

“I didn’t know it until recently, but yeah, I’m Zoey.”

“I’m Cameron.”

“I know,” she says, holding out a slip of torn paper from a notepad. “This is the stuff Archer needs to get you to check into. You’ll need to tell Seth it’s for Archer, and Archer said he can pay whatever you want to bring the information back as quickly as possible. It’s pretty much a given, but he also said not to speak to anyone about finding me here. Archer will decide when it’s time for that.”

She’s taking her time to get to the real point, watching me carefully as I take the slip of paper out of her hands. It feels like she’s trying to see inside me, to tell what I’m thinking.

Dale does that sometimes. It’s usually when he’s trying to gauge how I’m feeling about something.

“Did you want to talk to me about anything else, or …” I trail off, trying to be cool.

I feel weirdly shaky around her.

Omegas are empaths. She knows what I’m feeling.

I barely know what this is, but I bet she could name it.

“I … Well, it’s about Dale, but I think maybe it’s about more than that, too.”

“I’m not sure …” I start, trailing off when I get a fresh hit of her perfume on the air.

God, that smells so damn good. Why do Omegas have to smell so amazing?

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