Page 6 of Omega's Fever

But his scent. God, his scent. It’s everywhere, coating the inside of my nostrils, sliding down my throat with every breath.Sweet like vanilla. It makes my teeth ache.

Judge Melkham clears his throat and I look up. His nostrils are flared, and his weathered face is twisted with disgust. He knows exactly what’s happening. Everyone in this room knows.

Our pheromones hang thick enough to taste. Mine are dark and possessive, territorial in a way I’ve never experienced. My omega’s scent is sweet and unmistakably aroused despite the fear threading through it. The combination makes the court reporter shift uncomfortably. The bailiff raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“Counsel.” Judge Melkham’s voice could freeze hell. “Are you quite finished?”

The omega jerks upright, papers clutched against his chest. His face burns red from his collar to the tips of his ears. When he opens his mouth, nothing comes out for a long moment. He looks unsteady on his feet and that’s confirmed when he reaches out and puts a single hand on my table, gripping it tight.

“I...” His voice cracks like a teenager’s. He swallows hard and tries again. “Your Honor, I need to request removal from this case.”

I feel like I’ve been punched. A minute ago, I wouldn’t have cared. Now it feels like my heart has been ripped out.

But of course he wants out.

“On what grounds?” Judge Melkham leans back in his chair, fingers steepled. The leather creaks under his weight.

“Conflict of interest.” My attorney’s knuckles turn white where he grips the edge of the defendant’s table. He is close enough that I could reach out and touch. “I’m clearly having a scent reaction to the defendant. That may compromise my ability to provide adequate representation.”

The prosecutor, a sharp-faced woman in her late thirties named Victoria Sutter, makes a sound that might be a laugh. She covers it with a cough, but her eyes sparkle with amusement.I know her from the last trial. She’s an enormously talented attorney and, if it weren’t for the fact that she is trying to send me to prison for life, I’d probably like her.

“Mr. Hayes has already had three attorneys withdraw from his case.” Judge Melkham’s tone suggests he’d rather be anywhere else. “This trial has been delayed twice. Motion denied.”

The omega sways slightly. I watch the pulse flutter in his throat, rabbit-quick and desperate. “Your Honor, please,” he says, and the desperation in his voice pulls at me.

“I said denied.” The judge’s gavel comes down hard enough to make him flinch. “Now, shall we proceed with the actual purpose of this hearing, or would you like to waste more of this court’s time?”

“Of course, your Honor.” My attorney picks up the last of his spilled papers and takes the chair next to me, angling it as far as possible from me as he can. He doesn’t look me in the eye.

The judge gives a deep sigh. “I’ve not had the privilege of you in my court room before. It’s considered polite to let the court know who you are.”

“Milo Warren, your Honor. I’m from Schmitt and Petersen.”

Milo. My omega’s name is Milo. I can’t take my eyes off of him.

The judge sighs again. “Oh them.” He sounds less than impressed.

Conversely, I am impressed. I know Schmitt and Petersen. They’re one of the biggest private firms in the state and filled with more old money lawyers than a country club board meeting. For a crazy instant, I wonder if Cobb has put them up to this. Buying my defense attorney would make sending me down for his crime a lot simpler, but this isn’t his style. He prefers more direct action.

“Mr. Hayes.” Judge Melkham turns his attention to me,and I straighten reflexively. It’s an old habit. “Have you been registered with the Bureau?”

“No.” What does that have to do with anything? The idea that I’d have registered with the Omega Match Bureau is laughable.

Technically, every omega and alpha are legally required to register the day that they turn twenty-one but not everyone does. I sure as hell didn’t. I’d bet my pretty lawyer has. He looks the law-abiding type.

The fancy-pants lawyers at the Bureau do chase down unregistered alphas and force them to register, but it’s the alpha CEOs, judges and trust fund assholes that they want to match to their precious little high-bred omegas.

No one in government wants an alpha like me breeding.

“Then you will submit to registration before this trial proceeds.” The judge makes a note on his legal pad. “The court will not tolerate any more delays.”

Beside me, my omega’s scent spikes with fear. I glance over at him. His face has flushed pink and he looks slightly dazed. Finally, the penny drops and I realize what the judge is doing. He thinks we’re a match.

It’s not completely crazy. There’s clearly a scent match going on here, but an official match is deeper than that. It requires bloodwork, tests and compatibility on an almost primal level.

The moment that the thought hits my brain, I realize that’s what’s happening here. It must be. I’ve never had a reaction like this to anyone.

“Objection.” Milo’s voice gains strength. “Convicted felons aren’t required to register with the Bureau. The statute is clear on this matter.”