Page 5 of Omega's Fever

My mantra carries me through the security checkpoint and up to the fourth floor. Courthouse C, Judge Melkham presiding. I’ve never had him before but he has a reputation for running a tight courtroom. I’ve also heard he’s old-fashioned and not a fan of omegas in the legal profession. I’m going to have to be twice as effective as the prosecutor to make sure he listens to me.

Being late is not going to help. I take a deep breath and push through the heavy wooden doors.

The courtroom is smaller than I expected. It is lined with wood-paneled walls. The floor is covered with burgundy carpet that’s seen better decades.

Melkham sits behind his bench, reading something that has put a deep frown on his weathered face.

At the defendant’s table sits the biggest human being I have ever seen in person.

Kellen Hayes is even more imposing in real life than in his photograph. The orange jumpsuit strains across shoulders that belong on a linebacker. His hands are settled into his lap, but I can see the thick muscles of his forearms and the careful way hesits in a chair that is far too small to easily hold his bulk.

He turns slightly as I approach the table, and our eyes meet.

His scent hits me like a punch to the face.

It’s rich and warm and utterly, devastatingly perfect. My knees go weak. My breath catches in my throat.

Alpha. Not just any alpha, butmine. Recognition slams through me with the force of a freight train, every nerve ending suddenly alive and singing.

My briefcase slips from my fingers, hitting the floor with a crack. The papers inside scatter across the polished wood, but I can’t make myself care. Can’t make myself look away from those dark eyes that seem to see straight through me.

Heat floods my face. My heart hammers against my ribs so hard I’m certain everyone in the courtroom can hear it. Between my legs, my body responds with embarrassing enthusiasm to that incredible scent.

No, no, no.

This cannot be happening. Not here. Not now. Not with him.

But my body doesn’t care about logic or my professional reputation. It doesn’t give a shit that this man is a violent criminal. My body only knows that it’s found its perfect match, and it wants with a desperation that borders on pain.

Judge Melkham’s voice seems to come from very far away. “Counsel, are you quite ready to proceed?”

I force myself to look away from Kellen Hayes’ face, to bend down and gather the scattered papers with shaking hands. Professional. I need to be professional.

I close my eyes for just a second.Professional. Confident. Competent.I’m trying to ground myself but it’s impossible.

His scent follows me as I move, wrapping around me like a caress, and even worse I know that I am emitting an absolute fog of pheromones in response to it. This is the worst thing that could happen.

3

Kellen

The enticing scent of aroused omega fills the courtroom and slams into my brain.

I have just enough brainpower left to recognise that leaping across the table and attempting to fuck my defense attorney on the floor of the court room is a very bad idea.

Still, every instinct insists that he belongs to me and all I can think about is how desperately I want to claim him.

For the first time in my life, I wish they hadn’t taken off the handcuffs. There’s nothing holding me back except my own rapidly failing self-control.

My fingers dig into my thighs hard enough to bruise through the thin fabric of the prison jumpsuit. Every muscle in my body locks down, fighting the urge to surge across the space between us.

The omega scrambles on the floor, gathering his files with visibly shaking hands. His honey-brown hair falls across his forehead as he bends, and I catch myself staring at the vulnerable curve of his neck.

I imagine my teeth sinking into him, making him mine. Imagine the soft needy noises he’ll make.

I breathe out.Get it together, Hayes. Focus on something else.

The wire-rimmed glasses sit crooked on his nose now. One lens has a fingerprint smudge.