Page 58 of Omega's Fever

He works at my shirt, pushes it off my shoulders. His hands map the scars on my chest, each touch reverent. He looks up at me, and the raw honesty in his expression undoes me.

I lift him onto the bed, follow him down. This time, I can touch him properly. Can explore every inch of skin, learn what makes him gasp, what makes him arch. He’s sensitive at the base of his throat, responsive when I nip at his hip bone. Information I file away, treasures I’ll hoard.

“Kellen.” My name on his lips is prayer and demand both. “Please.”

I know what he needs. I can smell it in the way his scent spikes, feel it in how his body moves against mine. But I’m not rushing this. Not when he’s giving me everything.

I work him open slowly, watching his face for any sign of discomfort. There’s none. Just need and trust and something that looks dangerously like love.

When I finally slide inside him, we both stop breathing. This is different from the frantic coupling in the courthouse. This is coming home.

“Mine,” I growl against his throat.

“Yours,” he agrees, legs wrapping around my waist. “Always.”

We move together, finding a rhythm that builds slow anddevastating. His nails rake down my back, and I’ll wear the marks proudly. Evidence that Milo Warren, brilliant lawyer and fierce omega, chose me. Wants me.

“Look at me,” I demand when I feel him getting close.

His eyes fly open, pupils blown wide. The connection between us hums, electric and undeniable.

“I love you.” The words tumble out without permission. “Fuck, Milo, I love you.”

He breaks apart with a cry, body clenching around me. “Kellen, I—”

I follow him over, vision whiting out as pleasure crashes through me. But I hear him. Hear the words that match mine, that seal whatever this is between us.

Afterward, we lie tangled together, sweat cooling on our skin. His head rests on my chest, and I card my fingers through his hair.

I pull him closer, breathe in his scent—vanilla and sex and mine, mine, mine.

18

Milo

I barely make it to the bathroom, knees hitting the cold tile hard enough to bruise as I retch into the toilet. My stomach clenches, bringing up nothing but bile that burns my throat. The suppressants have been making me queasy for weeks and it’s getting worse. I feel completely out of control.

“Milo?” Kellen’s voice comes through the door, rough with sleep. The handle rattles. “Let me in.”

“I’m fine.” The words come out between heaves. “Just... give me a minute.”

His weight settles against the door. I can picture him there, pressing his forehead to the wood, trying to get as close as he can. We’ve been living together for two weeks now and I know him well enough to know that his alpha need to protect and comfort must be riding him hard. Too bad. I need at least a pretense of control.

Another wave of nausea rolls through me. My hands shake as I grip the porcelain.

The bathroom tiles are small hexagons, black and white in a pattern that makes my head spin worse. I count them between spasms. Fourteen black ones in my immediate vision. Twenty-three white.

“You’ve been sick every morning this week,” Kellen says quietly through the door. He’s not accusing, just stating a fact.

Have I? The days blur together. Court. Home. Avoiding looking at him too long. Avoiding thinking about how his hands felt on my skin last night, how I came apart under his touch like Iwas made for it. Avoiding thinking about the way my body aches for him even through the chemical haze of suppressants.

I need to concentrate on the case. If I think about anything else, I’m going to go mad.

“It’s just the stress.” I push myself up on shaky legs, flush the toilet then rinse my mouth. I look like death. My skin is pale and there are dark circles under my eyes. My hair is plastered to my forehead with sweat. I look like an absolute horror. It’s a miracle that Kellen is attracted to me through all this.

I splash cold water on my face and brush my teeth twice before I finally unlock the door.

Kellen is exactly where I pictured him. He straightens immediately, nostrils flaring. His dark eyes scan my face, taking in every detail.