Page 27 of Daisy (Omega Chosen #3)

Dante

T he room feels different after Gunner and Hawk leave.

August and Cassian crashed in the connecting room the moment they got back from the city, dead on their feet from the long drive.

Now it's just me and Daisy, and I'm trying to keep my distance from her.

Trying to be professional. Trying to remember she's been through hell and the last thing she needs is another alpha making her uncomfortable.

But fuck me, she's making it impossible.

She's sitting cross-legged on the bed, reading through the Uno instruction card August brought back from the city. Her dark hair falls like silk around her shoulders, and every time she moves, every tiny shift of her body, sends waves of her scent straight to my cock.

Even with the suppressants August gave her, even with the blockers, she's still the most intoxicating thing I've ever breathed. Honeysuckle and vanilla, but deeper now. Richer. Like something that's been sleeping is finally waking up, and all those medications can't quite keep it locked away.

My hands clench into fists where they rest on the small table. I should suggest we do something else. Read a book. Watch TV. Anything that doesn't involve being in the same room as her while she looks so fucking perfect in those soft gray clothes.

"I think I understand," she says, looking up from the instructions, and her voice is soft. Musical. Goes straight to every primitive part of my brain that wants to pin her down and claim her. "But you'll have to be patient with me. We played Go Fish in the van, but this looks more complicated."

Patient. If she only knew how my control is hanging by a thread. How every breath I take floods my system with her sweetness. How I've been fighting these thoughts for hours, trying to be the gentleman she deserves, but her scent is unraveling every wall I've built.

She's my scent match. The knowledge sits in my chest like a lead weight.

I should be protecting her, keeping my distance, being the respectful alpha who doesn't take advantage.

But fuck, every instinct I have is screaming at me to claim her.

To show her exactly what it means to belong to an alpha who would fight heaven and hell for her.

I'm imagining what she'd taste like if I buried my face between her thighs and made her come with my tongue.

Get it together, Dante. I force myself to take a steadying breath, but it only makes things worse. Her scent fills my lungs completely, and I have to grip the edge of the table to keep from reaching for her.

I need to be closer to help her with the game. That's all. Professional. Helpful. Not because I want to drown in her scent or watch the way her lips move when she concentrates.

"Why don't I sit closer?" I suggest, moving from the chair to the other end of her bed. "Make it easier to help if you have questions."

The mattress dips under my weight, and suddenly we're sharing the same space. Close enough her scent wraps around me completely. Close enough to see the way her pulse flutters at her throat.

"Take all the time you need," I manage, but my voice comes out rougher than I want.

She deals the cards with careful precision, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she concentrates.

That innocent little gesture makes my cock twitch hard against my jeans.

Everything she does affects me. Every breath.

Every flutter of her pulse at her throat.

Every unconscious arch of her back when she reaches for a card.

I'm fucked. Completely, utterly fucked.

"Seven cards each?" she asks, looking up at me through those dark lashes.

Shit. "Yeah. Seven."

Her fingers brush mine when she hands me my cards. Just the barest contact, but electricity shoots up my arm and straight to my dick. She feels it too---I can tell by the way her breath catches. By the slight flush that spreads across her cheeks.

We start playing, but I can barely focus on the game. All I can think about is how small her hands are. How they'd look wrapped around my cock. Whether she'd be shy the first time she touched me, or if that curious nature I've seen glimpses of would make her bold.

"Draw two," she says with a small smile, playing the card. "And the color is... blue."

I groan dramatically as I draw my cards, and her laugh is like music. Light and genuine and so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache.

"You're enjoying this," I observe, watching the way her eyes light up.

"Maybe." She bites her lower lip, trying to hide her grin. "I've never been good at anything competitive before."

Of course she hasn't. She's never been allowed to compete. Never been allowed to win.

"Well, you're kicking my ass," I tell her, and the proud flush that spreads across her cheeks makes my alpha purr with satisfaction.

"Really?" She leans forward slightly, and her scent hits me like a wave. "I'm actually winning?"

"Completely destroying me," I confirm, and she beams.

We play a few more rounds, and I watch her grow bolder with each victory. She starts teasing me when I have to draw cards. Celebrates quietly when she catches me with a good play. Every sound she makes, every expression that crosses her face, goes straight to my dick.

"What's something you've always wanted to try?" I ask during a lull in the game, desperate for distraction from the way she keeps unconsciously arching her back when she reaches for the discard pile.

She pauses, card halfway to the pile. "I... no one's ever asked me that before."

The admission hits me like a punch to the gut. Of course no one has. Her wants were irrelevant when she was just a omega to breed.

"Well, I'm asking," I say gently. "What's something you've always dreamed of doing?"

She considers this seriously, like it's the most important question in the world. "Swimming," she says finally, and there's wonder in her voice. "I've always wanted to learn how to swim. To feel weightless in the water, to move however I want without anyone watching or judging."

The longing in her voice makes my chest ache. Such a simple thing that most people take for granted, but she's never been allowed even that basic freedom.

"What about you?" she asks, playing a red eight. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue," I say without thinking. "Like the dress you wore to your presentation."

Her breath catches, and I realize what I've just admitted. That I noticed her. That I remember exactly what she was wearing the first time I saw her.

"You remember what I wore?" Her voice is barely a whisper.

"I remember everything about that night," I say roughly. "How terrified you looked. How you kept your eyes down but still managed to see everything. How your scent cut through all those blockers and made my alpha sit up and take notice."

She stares at me, lips slightly parted, and I can smell her scent spiking. Sweet and sharp and so fucking tempting I have to grip my cards to keep my hands to myself.

"What's something you've never told anyone?" she asks suddenly, like she needs the distraction as much as I do. She plays a blue seven with shaking fingers.

The question catches me off guard. Most people don't ask for secrets, especially not with such genuine curiosity in their voice.

"I used to dream about having a family," I admit, the words scraping out before I can stop them. "Not just any family. One where I belonged. Where someone chose me instead of me always being the one left behind."

Her dark eyes soften, and something tender passes between us. "That sounds wonderful," she says quietly. "Everyone deserves that."

"What about you?" I ask, my voice rougher than I intend. "What's your secret?"

She's quiet for so long I think she won't answer.

When she finally speaks, her voice is barely a whisper.

"Sometimes I used to pretend I was someone else.

Just a normal girl who could choose what to wear, what to eat, who to talk to.

" She looks down at her cards. "I'd make up whole stories about this other life where I mattered for more than just what I could provide. "

The pain in her voice makes my chest tight. Makes me want to show her exactly how much she matters.

"Have you ever..." I start, then stop. Clear my throat. Try again. "Have you ever wanted something you knew you shouldn't?"

Her breath catches, and when she looks up at me, there's something new in her eyes. Something that makes my cock twitch against my jeans.

"Yes," she whispers, and the word hangs between us like a confession.

"What did you do about it?" My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to.

"I tried not to think about it." Her cheeks flush pink. "But it didn't work very well."

"No," I agree, my gaze dropping to her lips before I can stop myself. "It never does."

Her scent spikes, sweet and sharp, and I can see her breathing getting faster. Her pupils dilate as she stares at me, and fuck, she's perfuming. Right here, right now, because of me.

"Daisy," I start, my voice rough with need.

"Draw four," she says quickly, snapping out of whatever trance we were both in. Her voice is breathless but she forces a small smile, playing the card with shaking fingers. "And the color is green."

Her scent blooms warmer, sweeter. Little traces of happiness mixing with the honeysuckle and vanilla until the air between us feels thick as honey.

We play several more rounds, and I watch her grow bolder with each victory. She teases me when I have to draw cards. Laughs when she catches me with a good move. Every sound she makes goes straight to my cock.

And her scent. Fuck, her scent is getting stronger despite the blockers. Richer. More complex. There's an undertone now that makes my mouth water. Arousal, barely contained. Sweet and musky and so fucking perfect I can barely think straight.

"Your turn," she says, and I realize I've been staring at her mouth.

Shit . "Right."