The Omega Who Called His Enemy

Arlo

I lay curled on the oversized sectional. The penthouse felt more like a cage than a home. The air conditioner hummed uselessly against the fever burning under my skin.

My second differentiation had ruined everything. It ripped away my Alpha status and left me an Omega at the mercy of these brutal heats. Sweat soaked through my thin t-shirt. Every shift of fabric felt like sandpaper. The cramps twisted deep in my gut, worse than usual tonight.

I hated this. I hated feeling vulnerable. Most of all, I hated that the one person who could ease the pain was the same bastard I couldn’t stand.

My phone sat dark on the table. Calling Raphael had been a mistake. Pure desperation. The empire’s golden Alpha would show up, bark orders, and remind me exactly why we were better off at each other’s throats, brother’s by blood. Rivals by nature, he never let me forget who held the power.

The lock clicked. I tensed and bit back a groan as the door swung open.

Raphael filled the frame. he still wore the black button-down from the club, sleeves rolled up to show his tense forearms. his scent hit me first — dark cedar and smoke. It cut through my haze and settled something primal in my chest. The heat flared hotter. I scowled.

“You look like shit,” he said. His voice was flat as he shut the door. No greeting. No softness. Just that familiar irritation.

“Fuck off,” I snapped, pushing up on one elbow. “I shouldn’t have called, go back to your distractions. I can handle this.”

His gaze raked over me, sharp and assessing. For a split second, something flickered in those storm-gray eyes. Concern, maybe. It vanished behind a cold smirk. “Clearly. That’s why you’re sweating through the couch like a pathetic mess.”

He crossed the room anyway and dropped a small silver case on the coffee table. “Custom suppressants. Ninety-eight percent compatibility. Take them before you pass out and make me drag your ass to the hospital.”

I glared, but my body betrayed me. I leaned toward him instinctively. His scent alone eased the worst of the cramps. I snatched the case and popped two pills dry. “How convenient you always have these on hand. Stalking my charts again? Or just making sure no one else gets close enough to help?”

Raphael dropped into the armchair across from me. He stretched his legs out like he owned the place. Which he basically did. “Someone has to keep you from making stupid decisions. The last reliable Alpha you sniffed around was a gold-digging weakling. You’d thank me if you weren’t so busy pretending to hate me.”

“I don’t pretend,” I shot back. my skin prickled when our eyes met. His stare felt intense. The kind that made my pulse race for reasons I refused to name.

“You’ve been an asshole since my shift,” I added. “Treating me like I’m broken. Like I’m less.”

Raphael’s jaw ticked. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He was close enough now that I could see the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone from the club. “You’re not broken. You’re a pain in my ass. Always have been.”

Despite his words, his hand reached out. He pressed the back of his fingers to my forehead. The touch was cool and steady. I jerked but didn’t pull away. It grounded me and sent unwanted sparks down my spine.

“Too hot,” he muttered, almost to himself. He stood abruptly and went to the kitchen. He returned with a glass of ice water and a damp cloth. He tossed the cloth onto my chest. “Wipe your face. And drink.”

I caught the cloth and pressed it to my neck with a reluctant sigh of relief. Our fingers brushed when I took the glass. The brief contact lingered too long. Heat pooled low in my belly. It had nothing to do with the suppressants. I drank deeply and glared at him over the rim. “You don’t have to stay. I’m not dying.”

“And yet here I am,” he replied. He settled back into the chair. His tone dripped with annoyance, but he made no move to leave. “The empire doesn’t need headlines about the Voss Omega collapsing alone in his heat. Bad for business.”

I laughed bitterly. The sound turned into a soft hiss as another cramp hit. “Right. Business. That’s why you drop everything every single time. Because of the family name.”

I shifted, trying to get comfortable. The sheet slipped down my legs. Raphael’s eyes tracked the movement before he snapped them away. His jaw tightened.

“Shut up and rest,” he growled. But he stood again. He adjusted the thermostat and dimmed the lights without being asked. Then he returned to his chair and watched me with that same unreadable intensity. Our scents mingled.

My body responded despite myself, the  heat softened at the edges under his watchful gaze. I hated how safe it felt. How right.

“Stop staring,” I muttered. I turned my face into the pillow. “It’s creepy.”

“You’re delusional if you think I enjoy babysitting you,” he shot back. Yet he stayed, the minutes ticked by. The suppressants began to dull the fire, but the tension in the room only sharpened. Every breath carried the weight of things unsaid. Resentment laced with something deeper.

My eyes grew heavy. “I still hate you,” I whispered into the fabric, half-delirious.

Raphael’s low chuckle was the last thing I heard. “Good. Keeps things simple.”