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Chapter 47: Tamsin's POV

Author: Annabelle Writes
last update Last Updated: 2025-05-09 22:40:43

The days that follow blur into a strange sort of routine, a rhythm dictated by Lior’s whims and the overwhelming novelty of this human world.

I try to settle into it, to find some semblance of comfort in the luxurious penthouse and the constant attention Lior showers upon me.

It’s easy to get swept up in the sheer spectacle of it all, the glittering city lights, the effortless wealth that surrounds us.

Sometimes, I almost manage to forget the unease that still flickers beneath the surface, the unanswered questions and the lingering scent of that man in the lobby.

Almost.

“Get dressed, little star,” Lior says, way too chirper for the morning, his voice smooth as silk as he leans against the doorframe of the bedroom.

He’s impeccably dressed, as always since we got here, in clothes that look both expensive and effortlessly stylish.

“I have a surprise for you. I think it’s high time my beautiful Tamsin had a wardrobe befitting a queen.”

A thrill of excitement, something I haven’t fe
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  • The Omega's Choice    Chapter 59: Nox's POV

    I've never really considered myself the rebellious type. Anything I was told by my mother, even if it was to my disliking, I did anyway.When she told me to reject Tamsin, she had cried about the curse, saying she couldn't lose me too. And I caved, telling myself it was just going to be a year max of pain and that would be it.Besides, I was in love with Zara.I did all that she wanted and convinced myself that she was seeking my best interest and that should be what I should focus on.Little did I know that she was never even seeking my interest. She was seeking hers. She didn't want to be cast aside when I became Alpha.She knew that I would follow my mate and Luna's wishes. She didn't want that. She wanted a new Luna that would follow her wishes, so that I could follow those as well.Talk about twisted.The rage is almost practically alive inside me, a molten core threatening to breach the fragile dam of my control. It claws at my throat, making each breath a ragged, burning effor

  • The Omega's Choice    Chapter 58: Tamsin's POV

    Lior’s platinum card feels strangely weightless in my hand, a major contrast to the heavy unease that still lingers after the delivery of that unsettling package. His impulsive generosity, a predictable tactic after our strained exchange, has landed me in this upscale boutique, surrounded by shimmering fabrics and gentle humms of air-conditioning.“Buy whatever you want, amore,” he’d said, his charm turned up full wattage, effectively dissolving my lingering questions with a wave of extravagant affection.The boutique girl, all impossibly long legs and practiced smiles, calls me “Mrs. Noir,” a title I'm clearing not getting the meaning of, though I like it. It has a fine touch to it. She offers me a delicate flute of champagne, the bubbles tickling my nose as I sip. An odd sort of appeal tugs at me, a fleeting enjoyment of the tactile luxury surrounding me, something I never anticipated. But as I browse the racks of designer clothes, a disquieting realization dawns. The silks and

  • The Omega's Choice    Chapter 57: Nox's POV

    “Damn her!” The curse rips from my throat, echoing in the silent expanse of the pack library. Damn her lies, damn her manipulations, damn the years she stole from me. I’ve just finished the last entry in my grandfather’s journal, the elegant script fading into the shaky hand of my grandmother as she documented his final days, her hope a fragile and desperate plea that the same genetic weakness wouldn’t claim their son, my father.It hadn’t. According to her entries, my father was a picture of health, strong and vibrant, ready to take on the mantle of Alpha. The records stop abruptly, a few days before his scheduled claiming ceremony, the last words a lament for her own failing health. Unmated. He was still unmated when she died.I slam the leather-bound journal shut, the sound sharp in the stillness. My eyes burn, a raw ache behind them threatening to spill over. I rejected Tamsin. My fated mate. For nothing. A lie. All this suffering, this gnawing emptiness… it’s all because

  • The Omega's Choice    Chapter 56: Tamsin's POV

    “Oh, please,” I mutter to the television screen, a wry smile twisting my lips. The movie playing is some low-budget human attempt at depicting werewolves – all snarling CGI and ridiculously dramatic transformations that bear absolutely no resemblance to the seamless slide between forms. Honestly, the way they imagine us, all hulking brutes with glowing eyes…it’s almost comical. If only they knew the truth, the quiet efficiency of our shifts, the heightened senses that are both a blessing and a constant, often overwhelming, influx of information. They’d probably faint from the sheer normalcy of it all, the lack of theatricality in our reality.A sharp knock on the door interrupts my private cinematic mockery. I pause the movie, the image of a ridiculously oversized wolf frozen mid-snarl, and head to the door. Through the peephole, I see a woman standing in the hallway. Tall, unnervingly thin, with long, lacquered red nails that look sharp enough to draw blood and eyes that seem st

  • The Omega's Choice    Chapter 55: Nox's POV

    The air in the deep archives of the pack library is thick with the scent of decaying paper and forgotten time. Dust motes dance in the faint, flickering light of the enchanted orbs suspended above, casting long, dancing shadows across the towering shelves crammed with the history of Lunaris. It’s been a month since Silas’s grim pronouncement, a month of bitter herbs, enforced sobriety, and the slow, grudging return of my strength. I’m still gaunt, the weight having melted away, leaving my clothes hanging loosely on my frame. "I don’t look better, if that helps you feel good," Cyan mutters darkly, more like a ghost haunting its own damn life, but the constant, leaden fatigue has begun to lift, replaced by a simmering, focused rage.In the past month of my recovery, I've been spending more time with Silas, and boy did that lonely wolf lead me down the rabbit hole of doubting my own mother.His words from one of our most recent conversations still echo in the silence of the archives,

  • The Omega's Choice    Chapter 54: Tamsin's POV

    The morning light, filtered through the sheer curtains of our ridiculously expensive apartment, paints the pristine white kitchen in a soft, almost ethereal glow. I stand at the marble island, the cool, smooth surface a sweet contrast to the warmth of the cereal bowl in my hands, and absently pour the crunchy flakes. A mindless hum escapes my lips, the repetitive, catchy tune of a pop song that had burrowed its way into my brain during one of my increasingly frequent driving lessons with Dante. It’s a small, ordinary ritual, a fragile anchor to normalcy in a life that often feels like a meticulously crafted dream, teetering on the edge of something else.Lior had slipped out before the first hint of dawn, a fleeting, almost perfunctory kiss pressed to my forehead. The extravagant bouquet of lilies he’d arranged on the counter the night before, their heavy, intoxicating scent filling the air, feels like a deliberate attempt to create a perfect tableau. His signature aftershave, a

  • The Omega's Choice    Chapter 53: Nox's POV

    The first intrusion is the light, a weak, watery gray seeping through the neatly arranged curtains of my room. My limbs feel impossibly heavy, as if they’ve been filled with wet sand, each movement a monumental effort. A dull, persistent throb behind my eyes amplifies the metallic tang that coats my tongue, a constant, vile reminder of the poison that has taken root within me.Then, the sound. A soft, almost melodic humming that cuts through the cottony fog in my ears. Zara. Her presence drifts towards me on the air, a cloying sweetness that once ignited a fierce, possessive fire within me. Now, it feels like an oppressive perfume, suffocating the last vestiges of my will. I can sense her nearness beside the bed, a gentle pressure on the mattress as she dabs my forehead with a cool, damp cloth. The rustle of silk against my skin is jarringly out of place, a mismatched sound that speaks of performance rather than genuine care. She’s dressed as if to seduce, the fabric clinging

  • The Omega's Choice    Chapter 52: Tamsin's POV

    I grip the steering wheel of my sleek, silver Audi, my knuckles white. It smells new, expensive, a heady mix of leather and something subtly artificial. I thought of personalising the car before I kicked off my driving lessons with Dante, but then I thought about it.What exactly is my personality?And then Kira had replied, "A stupid and brainwashed girl who believes three orgasms can equal the truth."I had ignored her, and concluded on my own that I'm still finding out what I like and what I don't. In other words, I'm still searching for a personality.That and Kira is giving me the silent treatment."Fucking bitch," she grumbles in my head at that and I smirk internally, then I bring my head back to the safe confines of my car and turn my attention to Dante.“Are you absolutely sure this isn’t too fast?” I ask him, my voice a little higher than usual.Dante, perched in the passenger seat, throws his head back and laughs, a warm, melodious sound that’s quickly becoming familiar.

  • The Omega's Choice    Chapter 51: Nox's POV

    The first sensation is the vile taste, a cloying metallic tang that clings to every surface of my mouth. It’s as if I’ve been sucking on old pennies, the coppery bitterness seeping into my gums, coating my tongue, even tainting the ragged, shallow breaths I manage to draw. My stomach roils, a violent, twisting knot that threatens to expel its meager contents. The choked air around me suggests I'm not in the woods like I last remember, instead, I'm in a cabin.By the scent of herbs, Silas's cabin, to be precise.My eyelids feel impossibly heavy, as if weighted down by stones. I fight against the lethargy, forcing them open to the dim, flickering light of the lantern hanging precariously from a rafter. Silas is a hunched figure across the small room, his movements slow and deliberate as he meticulously mixes a dark, viscous poultice in a chipped earthenware bowl. His weathered face is etched with concern, his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed into a thin, grim line.

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