His Forbidden Omega

His teeth grazed my skin, his tongue following, slow and deliberate, until every inch of me felt swollen with heat.

I shouldn't remember the way his mouth dragged down my body-hungry, claiming, until I was trembling under him... but I do.

His hand slammed my wrists above my head before I could breathe, his body crushing mine into the window as he thrust into me hard enough to make the glass crack.

I shouldn't remember the way his mouth closed over my private lips, pulling every sound out of me, or the way his lips suckled at my tits with slow, desperate hunger... but I do."

And even now, standing in this stupid wedding hall, my lips still tremble from the way he kissed me like he wanted to ruin me.

I didn't know his name then. I didn't know he was an Alpha. I didn't know he was my mate's father.

I only knew one thing: a prophecy woke in my blood.

Instead, I arched into the stranger whose scent burned like sin...

*******

Hours earlier, before I let a dangerous stranger drag those sounds out of me, I was just an Omega standing behind a bar pretending I wasn't breaking apart.

The laughter swirling all around me is too loud, and the music too sweet. They wrap their hands around me like poisonous vines, choking until I don't think I have anything left in me.

The bride's hands wrap around what should have been mine, giggle on her lips, and satisfaction in her eyes. My fingers grip the edge of the bar so hard that I feel it in my knuckles.

I force myself to breathe, to close my eyes, and act like I'm just another Omega pouring drinks at the Alpha's son's wedding. But nothing is that simple.

Because my mate is standing at the front of the crowd, sliding a ring onto someone else's finger. And not just anyone. Selene. My best friend since childhood, the one who promised she'd always have my back.

What a way to show it. A sharp pulse stings behind my ribs like an arrow. For a second, the world goes muffled, like something inside me is trying to wake up. I blink hard as my throat bobbed unconsciously. Not here and certainly not now.

The glass I'm drying suddenly shatters in my hand from how hard I'm holding it, and at once, heads turn in my direction, their eyes glaring daggers at me.

Somewhere across the hall, a shadow shift. A presence that felt heavy and dominant My wolf, weak as she is bristles so sharply I almost drop the remaining shards. Someone powerful is watching me.

"Be quiet, girl!" Selene's mother scolds harshly, her face squeezing into a frown. "And get away from there this minute. You are ruining such a beautiful day."

She was just like Selene. They acted like they were my friends for so long that I forgot who I was with them. A poor omega, working in the pack's kitchen with nothing else to her name.

I bow quickly and move farther away from them, walking out back to dump the shredded glass into the bin.

Blood trickles down my hand, but it doesn't hurt as much as every other thing happening today. The wound isn't healing on time because Omegas don't heal as fast as all the others.

Sliding to the floor, I allow the sobs I have been holding back all morning rack through me. My shoulders bob and my lips part wide open. I taste the salt in my own tears and the hurt laced in it.

I hear the sound of footsteps echo in the air until they come to an abrupt stop in front of me. "Lyra, you really shouldn't be taking it this personally," I hear Selene say, and suddenly, I feel the urge to tear her apart from the inside.

"Selene..."

She scoffs and shakes her head. "You are really making a scene out here, and someone from a guest pack might think I actually stole your mate from you."

"But you did," the words come out in a choked whisper as another torrent of tears starts pouring.

She leans in, her perfume chokingly sweet. "You were always too slow, Lyra. Too soft. You really thought fate would choose you?"

"You knew, Selene. You knew how much I liked Aiden, yet you took him from me. You know he was my mate..."

"He asked me to marry him, Lyra. What could I have done? Say no?"

I stare at her disbelievingly, finding it hard to believe that it is the same Selene I have always known.

"And it isn't my fault you didn't figure out that there is no way Aiden will agree to mate with an ordinary Omega like you." I hear the disdain drip from her tone. "You are just a wench in the kitchen. He deserves...."

"Better," I complete, pulling myself off the ground. "Someone like you."

Her lips quirk with the ghost of a smile just as Aiden saunters in through the door at one corner.

"There you are, my lovely bride," he murmurs, then halts when he notices me. "Is she hurting you?"

Selene shakes her head, her eyes turning to stare at Aiden. "I was only trying to explain to her why things have to be the way they are, but...."

"Can you listen to yourself?" I cry out. Suddenly, Aiden charges towards me, hitting me hard on my shoulder and forcing me back to the ground.

"What are you trying to do, Lyra?" he barks just as Selene places a hand on his chest, seemingly trying to calm him down. "This is the reason my father should have listened to me when I asked him to send you out of the pack."

Selene gasps dramatically and shakes her head at Aiden. "Baby, I've told you it's fine. Lyra and I have been friends for so long, and I was only trying to make her understand why I have to get married to her mate. I thought she would understand...."

"You are far too kind," Aiden murmurs, pushing back a stray curl from her hair before glaring down at me. "You hear that, Lyra? Despite the fact that you almost ruined our day with the scene you pulled inside, Selene still cares about your feelings. You don't deserve a friend as good as her."

"Aiden," I wail. It hurts so bad that I think my heart is going to claw its way out of my chest. My tears flow on ceaselessly, and I get on my knees, wrapping my hands around his ankles.

"You are my mate," I whisper. "Why are you doing this to me?"

He kicks me out of the way, just as Selene takes in a sharp breath. "She's already bleeding, Aiden."

"I don't care," he murmurs, then wraps a hand around her waist. "The only person I care about is you."

And then, his eyes fall once again on my crumpled form. "Just in case what happened in there wasn't clear, this is me, Aiden, the son of Alpha Kael of the Mystic Hollows Pack, rejecting you."

It hurts so bad. I see the look of triumph on Selene's face before it is masked by another feigned concern as Aiden whisks her away with him.

Something snarls inside me-quiet, buried, furious. Not my wolf, something that tastes like fire on my tongue.

My whole body quivers underneath me, but that only makes me angrier. My wolf is weak. She can do nothing other than quiver and shake. Why was I even born? Why do I have to go through this?

I hear another sound of footsteps echoing, and I brace myself, expecting Selene again.

The air changes first-tightening, lowering, pressing then a dominance so thick it rolls over like red carpet beneath me. I held my breath, even the warriors outside pause.

And then he steps into the doorway... tall, carved from shadow and authority, his presence hitting my senses like a slap. His feet, clad in black boots, halt in front of me. His eyes drag over me slowly-too slowly, like he's cataloging every bruise, every mark, and every place I'm breaking.

"Hello, Omega."

The way he says it shouldn't curl heat low in my stomach-but it does.

I look up, slightly relieved that someone is finally paying me attention. But his cold eyes regard me slowly, and he mutters after another second.

"You are standing in my way."

But this time... he doesn't move. Neither do I.

His gaze catches mine and holds, too intense, too knowing, too familiar like he's already seen me stripped bare under his hands.

A shiver shot through my spine not from fear but from recognition, memory and from the way my body suddenly remembers everything from the night I should never speak of, but my skin still aches for

His eyes narrow like he felt it too.

"Get up," he orders quietly. "Before I decide to pick you up myself."

My breath caught in my throat, and when he reaches out, not to help me, but to touch my wrist, slow and claiming the world goes hot and blinding.

The medallion around his neck burns green.

And everything inside me... answers.

If I thought the way he looked at me in that hallway was dangerous... it was nothing compared to the way he looks at me now, under the dim lights of the bar like he already knows exactly how tight my thigh would clutch around his fingers if he ever slid them into me.

The heat floods back with such cruelty, I didn't expect my body to tighten at the memory of how he held me open with one hand while he rammed into me with the other.

My breath stutters at the memory, heat curling low in my stomach: This is utterly wrong, utterly forbidden. And here I am, trapped behind the bar at my mate's wedding, pretending I'm fine, pretending my skin isn't still buzzing for a man I shouldn't even want. A man whose name I still didn't know when he made me shake apart beneath him. The memory vanishes just as fast, leaving my pulse tripping over itself.

*******

"What?" I whisper, the weight of his words crashing into me.

"The bar," he mutters,

nudging at the door behind me. "You are in my way."

Of course. The damn bar.

I slide away from the door, but the stranger doesn't move. There is something about him that makes me narrow my eyes, peering at him from underneath my lashes.

His eyes take in the blood in my hands, slowly drying. His stare lingers too long, on my lips, my throat, the pulse jumping in my wrist as if he's memorizing the places he wants to touch later. My breath slips unevenly, and his eyes flick down at the sound, sharp and hungry. Wordlessly, he gets on the same level as me and pulls it to him. At first, I struggle in his grip, trying to flinch away from his touch.

But one look straight into my eyes has me stopping. Slowly, his fingers work at the remaining shards of glass in my hand, taking every bit out. I look into his eyes as he works so intently, the dark pools focused on his task. His fingers barely graze my palm, but the jolt that shoots up my arm is vicious; white-hot, electric, a warning I'm too broken to obey. His jaw flexes once, as if he felt it too.

I don't think I have ever seen him around. I would have noticed. This man doesn't blend into crowds easily, with his silver hair framing his face, and the contrast with his eyes is hard to miss.

Like darkness and light.

He retrieves a bottle of alcohol from his coat and pours it over the injury.

"Fuck!" I groan as the pain hits. He arches his brows but says nothing else, carefully sheathing his drink before rising to his feet again.

He watches me shake instead, eyes darkening with something that feels too much like possession. "Pain teaches you where you bleed," he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear. "And who notices."

I gaze up at him, confused.

He shrugs. "I am not particularly a fan of the drinks being served out here. The Alpha's son could have done better."

"Why are you helping

me?" I whisper, pulling myself off the ground. The wound has begun to heal, although still slower than the normal rate of other wolves.

"I'm not," he murmurs.

"You were just in my way."

We walk back in

together, and I notice we are heading the same way. He slides onto one of the stools at the bar, while I grab a tray.

"Sit," he orders. The command isn't loud. It doesn't need to be. My knees go weak before my mind catches up, heat flooding embarrassingly low in my thigh. Alphas don't usually affect me like this. No one does actually.

I blink rapidly. "What?"

His eyes, dark and unreadable, pin me in place. "I said sit. I'm sure someone else can play servant tonight."

I should argue. I should walk away before I get into trouble.

But for some reason, I can't find the willpower to say no, so, instead, I slide onto the stool, staring at that pool of dark eyes again. His hands work mechanically as he retrieves the alcohol in his coat again, pulling two glasses our way.

After pouring a healthy amount, he pushes one to me. The smell burns before it even touches my lips. He studies every movement I make. Every swallow, every breath like he's stripping me without touching me. The worst part? My thigh throbs like it's begging for his hands in me instead of his eyes.

"Drink up."

"Are you trying to make me drunk?"

He shrugs. "You don't need my help for that. You already look half–drowned in exhaustion and mystery."

Heat creeps up my face as I turn away, my gaze landing on Aiden. "I guess I am not a fan of parties where I can't enjoy myself."

"Me neither," he murmurs, his firm hands circling his glass as he raises it to his lips. "I'm here out of obligation."

"At least, you are not made to serve tables like some slave."

He smirks. "I'm far from being a slave, Lyra."

Perfect. He knows my name. What else does he know?

I should go help the others out with serving drinks till the end of the wedding, as Aiden has instructed. Yet, for some reason, I slide further into the stool, taking my first sip of the drink.

It burns my throat instantly, and I wheeze. But I keep going back for more, under his watchful gaze.

The stranger.

He isn't saying anything. Just watching, as if trying to unravel a mystery.

The liquor becomes dull on my tongue as I keep going. It gives me something else to focus on other than Selene's sharp laughter, finding me from across the room. It is easy to point her out, standing as regal as ever.

She is now beside her mother and father, the Beta of the book. Happiness flows through them. In the near future, their daughter is going to be a Luna.

While I will remain the same.

Nothing.

"Careful," he says, his lips barely moving.

A scowl etches onto my face. "Why do you care?"

"I don't." His lips twitch, but it doesn't stretch into a smile. "I just prefer not to drink with someone who collapses halfway through. And alcohol poisoning is a thing.

Haven't you heard of it?"

"You're bossy."

"I've been told worse."

He leans back against the counter, his silver strands catching the dim lights.

I can't read his gaze, no matter how hard I try. And right now, his dark eyes are beginning to twirl.

Or is that the drink?

He leans in closer to me, his warm breath teasing my ears... just enough heat to burn along my skin. My thighs

clench instinctively. He pauses just a fraction too long as if he hears the sound my body makes.

"You have been staring at the bride for a while now. You should say hello while you can."

The rest of the room seem to fade away, leaving just the two of us. Every part of me is aware of the stranger as he lingers on my ear, his lips grazing my skin softly before he pulls away.

"I should leave," I mutter, sliding out of the stool and heading towards the door blindly. Halfway through, I remember the warriors won't let me out. Not after Aiden warned them to keep her inside the building until I watch every minute of the wedding.

I hate him. I should hate him.

The stranger from earlier approaches, taking my hand in his. He doesn't ask permission. His hand closes around mine, large, warm, unyielding. A single tug and my body follows his like it

always belonged in his pull. The warriors bow their heads as we approach, spines stiffening under his aura.

And without warning, he strides out of the door. The warriors do not as much as blink at him, keeping their gazes to the ground until we walk past them.

"Who are you?" I mutter the words I should have asked an hour ago.

"Where should I drop you?"

I stop then, realizing that I cannot go back to the pack house. Selene is going to move in tonight,

and I do not think I can bear to see them all cuddly, the look of smug satisfaction on her face.

In a split second, I look up at the stranger, saying the first thing that comes to my mind.

"Take me home with you."

For a breathless moment, something passes between us-dark, magnetic, terrifying. The air hums. The medallion beneath his shirt sparks to life, a faint green flash against his chest, answering something inside me that aches to be touched.

He doesn't notice it, but I do.

And suddenly, I am filled with the strange belief that it belongs to me.

"Get in the car, Lyra," he says softly. "Before I do something I'm not supposed to."

Something in me tightens, trembling.

And I obey, because gods help me, I want him to.

If sin had a scent, it would be his. The moment I slide into the passenger seat, I realize too late how short my dress is...The fabric climbs high up my thighs as I sit, baring more skin than I mean to. I tug it down instinctively but his eyes catch the movement.

His gaze drops slowly and deliberately lands exactly where my fingers are. Heat shoots up my spine. I snap my legs together, pressing my knees shut like I can trap my dignity between them. His eyes lift settling on my face with a knowing look that makes my stomach flutter painfully.

He smirks.

"Close them faster next time," he murmurs.

My breath stumbles. "That... that wasn't-"

"An invitation?" he finishes for me, his voice low, almost amused. "You'd be surprised how loud your body speaks, Lyra."

I stare straight ahead, refusing to look at him, but that only makes the air tighter. His presence fills the car-heat, dominance, dark patience. When he starts the engine, the vibration under me feels too intimate, too much, and I curse my own heartbeat for reacting.

As the car begins moving, the interior lights glow soft and gold. Enough for me to see him clearly. Too clearly. That's when I notice it, his gaze isn't on the road, it's on me, on my thighs, on the beautiful curves that bobbed before my chest, on the dip of the dress stretched tight across my chest.

I swallow hard. He notices.

His fingers flex once on the steering wheel.

I shift in my seat, thighs pressing together again, but it only makes the fabric of my dress slide higher. His eyes flicker at the movement, darkening with something that makes heat curl low and desperate inside me.

"Does that dress ever stay in place?" he murmurs.

"It's not- it's just the fabric," I whisper.

His mouth curves, cruel in its softness. "Then stop moving."

Too late his shaft stood triumphant, unmistakably hungry.

I turn away pretending, cheeks burning, but that only makes me more aware of him-how big he is, how close, and how his breath deepens every time his eyes brush over me.

My thoughts slip, dangerous, filthy things that I shouldn't be thinking about a stranger, let alone an Alpha, let alone a man who hasn't even kissed me yet, but somehow feels like he already has.

He shifts slightly in his seat battling his urges maybe.

He knows I noticed.

His jaw flexes once, and without warning, he reaches up and dims the interior light.

A long beat of silence stretches between us.

"Better," he mutters. "For both of us."

But the darkness doesn't help. If anything, it makes everything sharper: the sound of his breath, the heat radiating from his body, the soft brush of his fingers against the steering wheel, and the way I feel his attention on me like a hand sliding down my skin.

I longed to caressed his rod, thoughts of my tongue lapping on his cock filled my mind.

By the time he turns onto the gravel road leading to his villa, I'm certain of one thing:

If he doesn't kiss me soon, I might break first.

The car rolls to a stop. No one moved, not until he finally turns his head toward me slowly and his eyes land on my lips like he's already chosen what he's going to do to them.

"Get out," he murmurs, voice low and rough.

My breath shatters.

He still doesn't tell me his name or who he is. Instead, he walks me to a convertible parked at the other side of the road, not saying a word until we arrive at a villa on the outskirts of the town.

Beauty doesn't even begin to describe how it looks, with vines climbing the ceiling-to-floor windows and the flicker of lights coming from a room upstairs. This place feels wrong for a stranger like me. Too wild. Too alive. Too aware. As if the walls themselves are holding their breath, waiting for what he's about to do to me.

He leads the way, his tall frame easily towering over me as we walk through a dark hallway. He walks like he owns the room, like everyone bows to him when he appears.

And there is this flicker of power underneath, something that compels me to keep moving, rather than turning around as every rationality screams in me.

But I have nothing to return to.

"Stay here," he says as we reach the cozy living area. "I'll be right back." His voice dips low, velvet, commanding. It slides down my spine in a way that makes my thighs press together. Not out of fear. Out of the dangerous, shameful anticipation pooling low in my stomach.

It feels like nature is watching us, with all the trees around me. I hear a waterfall crashing in the distance, and my eyes find it at the far corner through the window, breathtakingly imposing.

"You found it," he murmurs, striding back into the living room. "It was the reason I built this place. I get to watch it in peace."

"In peace?"

He hands me a glass of water. "Don't leave a drop in it." His fingers brush mine for barely half a second. Barely. Yet heat knifes up my arm so violently I almost drop the glass. His eyes flick to my lips when I gasp. A slow, knowing drag of his gaze. Like he felt it too.

Nodding, I throw my head back and gulp down its contents, aware of his gaze licking every corner of my skin. It burns where his eyes touch, and I feel something warm in the pit of my stomach.

When I hand him the glass, his fingers graze mine. A jolt of electricity washes through me suddenly, and I jump back. He must have felt it too, but he gives nothing away, still maintaining that cool demeanour that fills me with the need to see beneath it.

"This was a bad idea," I whisper, my voice coming out husky. He arches a brow, then slides the glass onto the table behind us.

"Lyra..."

"I should go."

He steps in. One step. Just enough for his chest to brush mine, for his breath to ghost my cheek.

At first, it seems like he is going to argue. But he nods and nudges me towards the door. "My driver will take you back," he says, his hands in his pockets as we reach the doors.

I try to ignore the strange hurt in my chest, but it comes out through my tone. "You're not taking me yourself."

"If you leave now," he murmurs, "I will follow." My heartbeat stutters violently. "Why?" His eyes drop slowly to my mouth

He shakes his head. "You said it yourself. This is a bad idea."

"Will you tell me your name?"

His gaze washes through my features, and with the light flickering behind him, he looks so ethereal that it leaves a hitch in my throat.

He moves slowly, stalking me like a predator until my back hits the wall next to the door. His eyes fall on my lips, just as I hear a click next to me. The dense air from the hallway creeps into the living room.

"Go, Lyra. Leave while you can."

I stare up at him with huge eyes, unable to move an inch.

"Lyra," he breathes, my name falling from his lips like a whisper on a rainy day. "I don't think I will be able to let you go if you stay here for another minute, and I can't guarantee what will happen next."

My hands reach for the door, and I slam it shut, still looking at him.

His eyes grow even darker, as the second the door clicks shut behind us, the world narrows to his breath and the heat coming off his skin. "Lyra," he murmurs a warning or plea, I can't tell. I barely manage a breath before his mouth crashes into mine not gentle, not testing but hungry. His lips claim mine like he's been starving for years and I'm the first taste of anything real. My back hits the wall, his hand tangling in my hair, angling my head just the way he wants. A broken sound slips from my throat, and he answers it with a low groan that burns through my stomach.

My back is arched, and my legs pressed to the wall, and his tongue finds mine. I have never been kissed before, yet I can tell that this is far from soft and sweet.

He kisses me like he is missing something. Like he wants to lay a claim on me and watch the whole world burn from the aftermath of his decision. I kiss him back with all I have in me, my kisses made sloppy because of the liquor.

But he doesn't seem to mind as he lifts me into the air. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist as he moves back to the window, from where we can see the waterfall. My body is pinned between the window and him as his lips devour me, leaving only heat in his wake.

The glass chills my back while his heat sears my front. His hands roam-slow, deliberate, claiming every inch of skin like he's mapping me for a war he's about to start. "Look," he growls softly, turning my chin toward the waterfall outside. "I want you to remember what you were seeing the first time I made you shake for me."

I angle my head as his lips trail down my nape. I feel it in my core, my thighs pressed against each other, and my back arched into him. I try to tell myself why this is wrong, but all I can think of is the man in front of me, as he has consumed every fragment of my being.

One hand hooks around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer to him. A moan slips free from my lips as his other hand cups my boobs through my shirt. My head falls back when his hand slips lower, allowing the wave of passion to hit me.

A delicious ripple goes up my spine as he turns me around suddenly so that I am looking out into the night. He rips my clothes off me in one go, and the cool air caresses my skin. But the chill doesn't last as his hands find my naked frame.

My breath rages all around me, as his hands roam my skin, touching me in places I never knew were possible. And when he buries himself inside me, a loud gasp finds its way out of my lips.

"Fuck!" He whispers. "You are a virgin."

I don't trust my lips to say anything coherent, but I nod.

His breath stutters against my neck, his grip tightening on my hips. "You should have told me," he rasps. "I didn't think-" Lost in the heat of passion. "You didn't think I'd take you this hard?" His voice is a low, dangerous growl. "Or you didn't think I'd stop?"

He lifts me again and takes me to the bedroom, lowering me into the bed. As he carries me, the medallion at his throat flashes again-brighter, sharper. My wolf, weak for years, jolts under my skin as if shocked awake by lightning. I gasp.

He freezes. "What was that?" he whispers. I don't know. But the air tastes charged, like the night itself is holding its breath for what we're doing.

With one hand, he parts my legs open like a lab specimen and with the other, he made his way into my cunt, gently at first and roughly as I dripped slick juices on his fingers.

My hand wound around the fist, and the other buries in the thick strands of his hair as he thrusts.

Nothing makes sense in this moment, other than this. I feel every part of my body quiver as a blind wave of intense passion hits. I hear a scream in the room, but I am not sure if it is from me.

Minutes later he buried his face into my core, taking in my scent until I felt his tongue sucking deep on my cunt, licking up every juice I produced and sending me on a wild erratic pleasure.

"Please don't stop, I want your cock in me," I said to my chagrin.

That was all the permission he needed, as he slides his rod into me, slowly at first then ramming into me at high speed, banging the walls of my womb with each thrust.

My world breaks open. My back bows, his name ripping from my throat as something ancient detonates inside me-heat, power, hunger and a sticky liquid surging out so violently my vision whites out.The medallion on his chest flares brilliant green. He shudders above me, cursing into my neck as he follows me over the edge, his body shaking against mine.

Hours later, at the crack of dawn, I am sheathed in his arms, staring up at his flawless face. My brain nudges at me, as the familiarity I didn't realize last night begins to return.

My eyes widen as I push off him suddenly.

I just had sex with my mate's father. Alpha Kael, the Alpha of the Mystic Hollows Pack. This is all Aiden's plan. I can't believe I was so foolish as to fall for it.

Slipping out of bed, I try to find my clothes on the floor, but come up with nothing. I remember he took them off in the living room and I make to go out.

But my feet halt again when I see the glow on his neck again, this time, brighter. It is coming from something that looks like a crest, but in a half-moon shape. The closer I get to it, the brighter it glows. The medallion. His medallion. My hand reaches for it before my mind catches up, unable to stop myself as I take it off him-drawn, pulled, claimed by something older than either of us. The second my fingers close around it, the light lashes out like lightning. And then, I vanish.