The Hallway

The room was spinning.

Not the slow, gentle spin of a few drinks. This was the kind of spin that told me I'd made a mistake three glasses ago and kept going anyway. My back pressed against something solid—a wall? A door? I couldn't tell. Everything was warm and blurry and wrong.

But then I smelled him.

That's the thing about being an Omega. You don't get to ignore what your body wants. And right now, my body was screaming.

He found me in the hallway outside the party. I don't even remember leaving. One minute I was trying to find the bathroom, the next my legs stopped working and I was sliding down the wall like someone had cut my strings.

Then his shadow fell over me.

"You shouldn't be out here alone."

His voice was rough. Deep. The kind of voice that went straight to my spine and made it melt.

I looked up. Blurry face. Strong jaw. Eyes that were watching me like I was something he wanted to eat.

"Who're you?" My words slurred together. I couldn't make my mouth work right.

He crouched down. Got close. Too close. His nostrils flared and I watched something dark move behind his eyes.

"Jesus," he breathed. "You're not just drunk. You're—" He stopped. Swallowed hard. "You need to go back inside. Now."

I should have listened.

But I was so warm. And he smelled like cedar and something sharp, something that made my Omega sit up and pay attention like she'd been asleep my whole life and only just woke up.

"Don't wanna," I mumbled, reaching for him.

My fingers found his shirt. Clenched in the fabric. He was solid underneath. All muscle and heat and I wanted to press my face against his chest and just breathe.

"Sweetheart." His voice went tight. "You don't know what you're doing. Your scent is—" He cut himself off with a growl. Actually growled. I felt it in my chest. Lower too. "You're leaking pheromones like a fucking faucet. Every Alpha in that room is going to smell you in about thirty seconds."

I didn't care.

I pulled.

He let me fall against him. His arms came around me automatically—instinct, I realized later. Alpha instinct. Protecting what smelled like his even though we'd never met.

"Pretty," I whispered, touching his face. My fingers traced his jaw. Stubble scraped my skin. "You're pretty."

He made a sound. Something between a laugh and a groan. "You're drunk off your ass."

"Mmhmm."

"And you're an Omega in pre-heat. Or close to it. Your body's gearing up and the alcohol just made everything worse."

"S'warm," I agreed, nuzzling into his neck.

He went completely still.

I felt the moment he stopped fighting. His whole body shuddered. A growl rolled out of him—deeper this time, more dangerous. His hands tightened on my waist hard enough to bruise.

"That's it," he said, but he wasn't talking to me anymore. He was talking to himself. Giving himself permission. "That's fucking it."

He lifted me like I weighed nothing.