Page 34 of Omega's Formula

“What else would you call it?”

I don’t have an answer. Or rather, I have too many, and none of them are things I’m willing to say out loud.

Erik finishes dressing as best he can. He looks like he’s been in a fight—which I suppose he has. Just not the kind that leaves visible bruises.

“I’m late for my meeting,” he says, checking his phone. “After that, we should discuss ground rules for this arrangement.”

Ground rules. Like he didn’t just have me screaming his name against the wall. Like I didn’t just take him apart with my hands while he buried his face in my neck. Like we didn’t just set fire to every boundary we were supposed to maintain.

I laugh, and it comes out sharper than I intended.

He gives me a look of disdain and walks out of the apartment.

The door clicks shut behind him.

I sit there on the floor of his old apartment, surrounded by boxes from his old life, naked and thoroughly fucked in every sense of the word.

10. Erik

The boardroom is too bright and I’m two minutes late and I can still taste him in my mouth.

I slide into my seat at 11:02—two minutes late, which has never happened, not once in seven years—and twelve faces turn toward me with expressions carefully calibrated to show nothing. My CFO is about to bring up the quarterly projections. She pauses, waiting.

“Continue,” I say, and my voice comes out wrecked.

I showered and changed my shirt before leaving the apartment but I couldn’t do anything about the bite mark throbbing under my collar. The shower has maybe diminished but I’m sure I still reek of sex and omega andhim, and everyone in this room knows it.

The presentation resumes. I watch numbers on the screen scroll past without registering a single figure.

I had himagainst the wall, his legs wrapped around my waist, wearing nothing but water and rage, and I—

I shift in my chair. Thank God for the table.

This isn’t who I am.

I am disciplined. I have better control over the base urges that turn other alphas into pawing, rutting animals. I don’t raise my voice. I don’t lose my temper. I certainly don’t shove omegas against walls and drop to my knees like I’m starving for it.

Please don’t stop.

His voice cracks through my memory and my whole body tightens. The way he looked down at me. The way his thighs shook under my hands. The way he said my name when he came, like it was punched out of him, like he hated himself for it—

“Mr. Nilsson?”

I blink. The room is staring.

“Could you repeat the question?”

My CFO’s stylus hovers over her tablet. I never ask for repetition. I never need to.

“The Singapore timeline,” she says carefully. “Your thoughts?”

I have no thoughts on Singapore. I have no thoughts on anything except the sound Nolan made when I first put my mouth on him—this broken, startled noise, like he couldn’t believe I was doing it, like he couldn’t believe Iwantedto do it.

I wanted to do it. That’s the part I can’t stop circling back to. I didn’t just lose control. Iwantedhim so badly I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything except get my hands on him and make him fall apart.

“Push it to Q3,” I manage. “We’ll revisit once the regulatory landscape clarifies.”

She nods, giving me curious look, and then makes a note. The meeting continues.