Page 11 of Omega's Formula

I watch Nilsson move to one of the sofas and lower himself onto the cushions like he owns the place. Like he owns everything. I force myself to stay calm. He’s not going to get to see how much this is affecting me.

I sit down across from him, leaving the low table between us like a barrier. Like it could possibly protect me from anything.

I lost everything because of him.

Not everything. I haven’t lost Ellie, but I can lose her if I don’t go through with this.

So I meet Nilsson’s impossible blue eyes and I smile because I’m big enough to swallow my pride and play nice with a terrible person if the stakes are high enough. I’ll do anything to save my sister.

“Let’s talk,” I say.

4. Erik

Prime matches might be mandatory but that doesn’t mean I am going to get myself chained to some two-bit hustler. The first thing the asshole says to me is, “Let’s talk,” like this is some kind of negotiation.

I stop just inside the doorway of the Bureau’s introduction room, taking in the scene. Nolan West is already seated on one of the low sofas, looking entirely too comfortable with a shit eating grin on his face. He’s wearing jeans and a leather jacket that’s seen better days, and he doesn’t even bother to stand when I enter.

The room itself is designed to be calming. Soft lighting, neutral colors, comfortable furniture arranged to encourage intimacy. There are even bean bags in the corner which look ridiculous.

Then Nolan’s scent hits me.

It’s like walking into a wall. Sweet and sharp at the same time, something like coffee and warm skin. My vision actually blurs for a second. My chest tightens and every muscle in my body goes taut.

Mate, something deep inside me growls. Mine.

No. Absolutely not.

I force myself to take a breath, then immediately regret it because that just pulls more of his scent into my lungs. He smellslike nothing I’ve ever encountered. I have to fight the urge to leap across the room and bury my face between his thighs.

It’s infuriating.

West’s eyes have gone wide. His pupils are dilated, nearly swallowing the green, and I can see his chest rising and falling too quickly. His fingers have gone white-knuckled on the arm of the sofa. So he feels it too. Good. At least I’m not suffering alone.

“Mr. Nilsson.” David Sun rises from his chair near the window, hand extended. He’s a slight man, beta by his neutral scent. I’ve never met him in person although I’ve told him off by phone often enough. “Thank you for coming.”

I shake his hand automatically, still trying to get my bearings. The scent is everywhere. It’s in my throat, my chest, settling into my bones. I want to cross the room and bury my face in Nolan’s neck and breathe him in until I can’t smell anything else.

I want to throw him against the nearest wall and mark him so thoroughly that everyone who sees him will know exactly who he belongs to.

No. Focus. This is exactly what he wants. This is the con.

“Mr. West,” Sun says. “This is Erik Nilsson. Erik, this is Nolan West. You’ve been matched by the Prime system, which means—”

“I know what it means.” I say, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended. Lower. More alpha than I usually allow myself to be in professional settings.

Sun mumbles something and flees the room like the pointless bureaucrat that he is.

I stare at the omega who thinks he’s going to marry me. “Let’s get this over with.”

West’s jaw tightens. He still hasn’t stood, which I find disrespectful. An omega meeting their potential alpha for the first time should show at least basic courtesy. But then, what did I expect?

I remain standing, using every inch of my height to establish dominance. “My legal team is currently at the courthouse filing an injunction against this match. My head of legal, is handling it personally. Once that’s processed, this whole farce will be over.”

West laughs. It’s a short, bitter sound that shouldn’t make heat pool in my stomach. “Of course you are. God forbid you actually have to deal with the consequences of your own company’s actions.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He finally stands, and I realize he’s shorter than I expected. Not by much, but enough that he has to tilt his chin up to meet my eyes. The movement exposes the line of his throat, the vulnerable hollow at the base where his pulse is visibly hammering. I can see the moment he realizes what he’s done, the way his shoulders tense, but he doesn’t back down.