Page 10 of Omega's Fever

Silence.

“Ms. Sutter has said she won’t consider a plea bargain but that is likely just a power play. Would you be willing to accept one?”

Dark eyes watch me with unnerving intensity.

“Mr. Hayes, I need you to work with me here. The jury selection is Tuesday. That’s only a few days to prepare. If you have information that could help your case—”

“No.”

The single word hits me hard. His voice is deep and rough. My thighs clench involuntarily.

“No?” I hate how breathless I sound. “No to which question?”

“All.”

Heat flashes through me, part arousal and part anger. I’m fighting to maintain professionalism while drowning in pheromones and he can’t even be bothered to speak in complete sentences?

“Look, I understand you’ve been through multiple attorneys. I know this process is frustrating. But I’m trying to help you here.”

His eyes narrow slightly. Still watching. Still silent.

“The prison.” I flip through pages, searching for anything to fill the suffocating quiet. “Are you safe in general population? Your file mentions several altercations. As your attorney, if there are threats to your safety, we can petition—”

“I’m fine.”

Two words this time. Progress.

Except I’m not fine. I’m the opposite of fine. My skin feels too tight, too hot. Every breath brings more of his scent and the slick between my thighs has gone from uncomfortable to genuinely concerning. If this keeps up, I’ll leave a wet spot on the chair.

I shift positions, trying to relieve the pressure. The movement sends a fresh wave of my own pheromones into the air.

His hands clench on the table. The handcuffs rattle against the metal ring holding them in place.

“Mr. Hayes—”

“Kellen.”

I blink. “What?”

“My name is Kellen.” Each word seems dragged from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Right. Kellen.” His name tastes dangerous on my tongue. “Is there anything else? About the case, I mean. Anything at all that might help?”

He leans back in his chair, creating a few precious inches of distance between us. It doesn’t help. If anything, the new angle gives me a better view of how the jumpsuit stretches across histhighs.

Fuck. Focus.

“They’ve already decided I’m guilty.” His voice carries no emotion, just stated fact.

“You don’t know that. With the right defense strategy—”

“You think I did it.”

The words stop me cold. “I... what?”

“You looked at my file. Saw the charges. Made up your mind before you walked in here.” He tilts his head, studying me.

Heat floods my face for an entirely different reason. He’s not wrong.