Page 89 of Unlikely Omega

He sighs, lies on his back, lacing his hands under his head. “Nice evening, huh?”

“Damn weirdo.” I crouch back down on the bank. My bare feet are numb in the cold water, but cold makes you strong. Pain makes you strong. Being raised among priests wasn’t exactly a cozy experience. No coddling to speak of.

The easy way he lies on his back, like he has every right in the world, is eating at me. I itch to kick him off his ass, put some tension into that strong body.

Which I don’t care about. How strong it is, I mean. At all.

Yeah.

To put in him some of the tension brewing in mine.

“You should try sex, though,” he says, and it somehow gets under my skin so badly I want to punch his face.

“Stop acting like you know everything!”

“I do know everything. I mean, what do you know about this topic? Have you ever had a hard-on?”

“Fuck you. Of course I have.”

“And a knot? Have you ever had a knot?”

“No.”

“And sex?”

“Dammit. You know I’ve never had sex,” I growl. “I’m a priest!”

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

“I said… Oh, fuck you. You heard me perfectly well. Laugh all you want. I bet you will, anyway. You like to laugh like an idiot all the time.”

“You’re an alpha, Finn. How can an alpha never have sex for all his life?”

“Shut your trap, Taj. What, did you spend your life with a hard-on? I thought you had no idea you were an alpha until now.”

“No,” he admits. “That’s true. They say when you have Fae blood, you don’t get easily aroused, unless…”

“Unless what?” I mutter.

“Unless the right omega comes along. A Fae-blood omega. Your fated mate.”

“There you go. Got your answer.”

“And you’re not that old, either, are you? Just… stiff.” He laughs. “Stiff. Get it? Now you’re stiff.”

“Oh, for all the gods’ sakes…” I glance back. “Where is Ariadne?”

“Asleep, under the tree. Why? What’s the matter?”

“I smell something.”

“The stink of your own bullshit?”

I draw another breath of the icy breeze and a shock goes through me. I jump to my feet. “Drakoryas.”

“The fuck you’re saying.” He surges to his feet, drawing the knives from his boots. He hadn’t been lying about that after all, “Where?”

Holy fuck.

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