Page 77 of Unlikely Omega

Okay, maybe not eat me, but kill me? That’s a real possibility.

Anyway, washing my hands like that means I get even more drenched in icy water, but by this point, I don’t think it makes such a big difference.

Will anything I do at this point make a difference?

Clenching my jaw, I kneel facing what might be the west to perform my evening prayer and rituals.

“Is he for real?” Taj demands as I whisper the words I know by heart to the two deities who have accompanied my daily routine for most of my life. “He’s going to do that now?”

“It’s ritual time,” she says quietly.

“So why don’t you do it, then?”

“I’m… disappointed with the gods,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “May they forgive me.”

I shouldn’t be focusing on her voice, imagining my hands on her body, on her face, tracing her lips as she speaks, feeling her warm breath caress my fingers. I should be focusing on the ritual that got me through all the years of self-hatred and doubt and fucking terror and not on a girl I just met, a girl who took everything from me, stranded me here—

No, no. A girl I followed without a single doubt marring my decision, a girl who is intriguing and willful and caring and beautiful, who keeps turning all my beliefs on their head, who keeps kicking me in the balls with her perfume and her softness and the steel of her will, and…

Fuck, what the fuck am I doing?

I’ve stopped in the middle of my ritual and can’t even remember what comes next. Just like in my life. All semblance of control is gone and I’m grasping at my rituals to keep afloat.

A priest has rules. A priest isn’t governed by his body, his physical needs or his emotions, and yet here I am. Ruled by all three. No, ruled by an omega girl.

“I don’t blame you,” he’s saying to her. They are still talking, oblivious to my inner torment. “That you are disappointed in religion.”

“And yet you said you believe in the gods,” she goes on.

“Yeah, I do. But I also believe in my sword.”

“Not every problem can be solved with a sword.” I stand up, bow to Nyx and take the first position of the moon dance. I flow into the second position, lifting my hands to the sky. Breathe out.

“That’s why I also carry knives,” he says.

I almost choke on my next breath. “You do? Impossible. I didn’t find any on you.”

“I knew you were searching me when you patted me down. Then again, I thought maybe you were looking for my cock.”

I manage not to choke this time but it’s a close thing. “Dream on. Where do you keep the knives? Don’t tell me in your boots.”

“In my boots.”

Ariadne is making spluttering noises so I suppose I’m not the only one taken aback by the Commander’s attitude.

“Dammit.” A reluctant grin pulls at my lips and I kill it ruthlessly as I lower my arms. “That’s a hell of a risk. You could stab yourself in the foot, quite literally.”

“I have good sheaths.”

“Commander…” she starts, her voice washing over me, stripping away the last of my concentration. It sends a rough shiver through me, grabs my cock and hardens it so fast I clamp my teeth down on a groan.

“Taj,” he interrupts her. “Just Taj.”

“Taj,” she concedes. “Are the Drakoryas Fae-blood?”

“I wouldn’t know. They’re often children cast away by their parents in the wilderness for being different.”

“So the answer is—probably yes.”

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