Page 23 of Happy Halloween, Omega
I smile, my eyes fluttering closed. Already, I can feel the simmering heat building beneath my skin and know it’s only a matter of time before I’m demanding a repeat performance.
I fall asleep in his arms, sated and happy.
He leans over and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “Happy Halloween, Omega.”
12
Epilogue
EveryHalloweenIgeta fright, but this year I think the curse has broken.
After our mating last year, Detective Romulus Fox escorted me down to the designation office, where I officially registered as an Omega.
I was extensively interviewed by his colleagues about the illegal suppressants I’d taken for years, and Romulus steadfastly held my hand through the entire ordeal. I couldn’t tell them a single thing about the pills. After all, the substantial stockpile was acquired by my dead kidnapper many years ago. Romulus promptly registered as my guardian and mate, and the police released me into his care.
It’s outrageous how they treated me like a commodity – a ditzy little damsel in distress. I wanted to shout ‘I’ve been taking care of myself for years!’ but I kept my rage under control until we returned home. Romulus listened calmly as I ranted and raved about the injustice of it all. When I wore myself out, he bundled me up in my nest like a vicious little kitten and licked my pussy until I couldn’t remember why I was angry. I eventually conceded that while I didn’t need my Alpha to take care of me, I didn’t mind when he did.
We never discussed moving in together. I simply didn’t leave after my heat broke. I suspect Romulus wouldn’t have let me leave, anyway. Despite my status as a mated Omega rendering me safe to continue working at the construction company, I quit. I was done living a false existence, including a shitty, lifeless job, and was ready to embrace my future.
I have a tentative relationship with my father. We’ve met up a handful of times in the past year to chat. There’s a lot of trauma to wade through, and we’re taking it slow, for both our sakes. He’s a grumpy Alpha. Who wouldn’t be after the life he’s been dealt? I think having closure on my disappearance has encouraged him to begin living again.
With encouragement from my Ghost, I took some time to pursue my passions. Two months later, and a million cups of coffee, I had a rough manuscript of my murder mystery romance novel. I published it and immediately started crafting the next book.
As a side hobby, I embraced my morbid fascination with true crime. I have an insatiable need to discover clues to unearth the truth behind each case, and share my findings with others who have the same interest. I’m part of a lively online community that collaborates on cases. My screen name is‘Ghosts_girl’, which my Ghost is particularly pleased with.
As an actual detective solving crimes daily, Romulus finds my hobby strange and amusing. He won’t admit it, but he’s invested in some of the harder to crack cases I ask for his opinion on. He finds my morbid fascinations quirky and indulges my endless questions about law enforcement.
It’s a good thing I like morbid and quirky too, because he hadn’t been wrong. His obsessive addiction to me didn’t stop with our mating. It grew.
Our home is a protected place. In our nest, he’s a sweet and doting Alpha.
Everywhere else is fair game.
Sometimes I know he’s there. Stalking me from afar, simply content to watch me without approaching, letting me feel the familiar prickle of prey being hunted by a predator.
Our mate bond has only made it more exciting for him. He can feel when my blood pumps and the trickle of fear seeps in. It’s also made it infinitely harder for him to sneak up on me because I can sometimes feel when he is near like a phantom limb. The other day, while at the grocery store, I flipped the stalking script and followedhimthrough the aisles. My Ghost punished me with a two hour long edging session for that little stunt.
Totally worth it.
The little cafe I write from must have the best police coverage in the entire city. I’m sure his detective partner is sick of taking detours so he can stalk his Omega while she eats chocolate chip muffins. Most of the time he doesn’t let me know he’s there until I receive a zoomed in photo of me mid-bite with a little message:‘You have chocolate on your bottom lip. Lick it off for me, Kitten. Slowly, so I can watch.’
The thrill it gives me is addictive. It’s an insidious obsession which binds us like a mating bite, a dark dance between predator and prey, and I’m just as enthralled by being his victim as he is with stalking me. A relentless, twisted game. It feeds my insatiable need for attention and acknowledgement – a yearning caused by years of neglect. My Omega needs constant validation from her Alpha.
Our relationship might seem toxic to some, but for us, it’s perfect.
While he satisfies my needier side, sometimes he needs to indulge in his darker desires. I look forward to those moments the most.
My Ghost starts off slow. His stalking gradually increases, until the day I wake up and he’s gone. He disappears into the shadows like the ghost I accuse him of being, and the game begins.
I like to make it harder for him, putting in extra effort to change my routine and dressing differently, so I blend into a crowd easier. By the second day, my blood is usually pumping, and the thrill is delicious. I put on a bit of a show for him, masturbating in front of an open window, knowing through the bond that he’s watching with growing intensity. The tension grows and grows until I feel that flicker of fear when shadows move and footsteps echo behind me. That’s when he’ll strike.
A hand will clasp around my mouth to smother my scream of shock. My Ghost will bend me over the nearest surface and fuck me like he’ll die if he doesn’t. Some of the most intense orgasms of my life come from that release of tension. Like everything else in our relationship, I shouldn’t like it … but I do. I really, really do.
It’s Halloween night and, as predicted, my heat is due to start. I’m beside myself with excitement. I have a feeling my Alpha is going to pull out all the stops to make this a memorable evening.
The sun is setting by the time I exit the elevator to our apartment. Romulus is running late from work. He called earlier to say that he’d be home within the hour.
The lock clicks when I turn the key, and I bustle through the door. I refresh Grizabella’s water and serve up her dinner, calling her name in a high-pitched, silly voice.