The Alpha’s Omega

Chapter Twelve : Sleepless Heat

The apartment was dark, save for the city lights spilling in through the blinds. Fernanda sat curled on the couch, knees tucked to her chest, the untouched cup of tea in her hands gone cold a long time ago.

She’d been sitting there for hours, telling herself she wasn’t waiting for anything.

But her body knew better.

Every nerve was still raw from earlier—her skin tight, her pulse refusing to settle, her mind looping over every second of Ace pressing her into that wall. His heat, his scent, his voice telling her he was close to taking her.

Her thighs clenched at the memory, and she swore softly into the empty room. This was insane. She’d barely known him two days, and yet her body acted like it had been starving for him her entire life.

That’s what the bond did.

She’d heard stories—whispered warnings from older Omegas about how it felt, how it stripped away your sense and left only the need. She’d thought they were exaggerating.

Now she knew they weren’t.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway outside her door snapped her out of the spiral. She stiffened, holding her breath. It was late—past midnight—and she wasn’t expecting anyone.

A knock followed. Three slow, deliberate raps that sent her pulse skyrocketing.

She set the mug down carefully, her hands trembling. “Who is it?”

Silence.

Then—his voice, deep and low through the door. “Open up, Fernanda.”

Her mouth went dry. “Ace—what are you—?”

“Open the door,” he said again, the command in his tone curling around her name like velvet and steel.

She hesitated, every reasonable part of her screaming to tell him to leave. But her legs carried her forward anyway, her fingers undoing the locks without conscious thought.

The door swung open, and there he was—leaning against the frame, broad shoulders filling the space, dark eyes fixed on her like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at.

He didn’t wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

He took another step toward her, and she found herself backing up instinctively until the back of her knees brushed the couch.

“You couldn’t sleep,” he said, not as a question, but as a fact.

She swallowed. “How do you—?”

“I couldn’t either.” His gaze raked over her—bare legs under an oversized T-shirt, hair loose and a little messy, lips parted. “The bond doesn’t let you rest, Fernanda. It wants you restless until you give it what it’s asking for.”

She shivered, because she knew he was right.

“You think I like showing up in the middle of the night?” he went on, his voice low and rough. “You think I like feeling like my skin’s too tight, like every second away from you is a slow torture?”

Her breath hitched. “Ace…”

He closed the remaining distance, his hand coming up to cup the side of her neck. His thumb brushed along her jaw, the touch gentle despite the intensity in his eyes.

“You smell like need,” he murmured. “Sweet. Warm. Driving me insane.”

Her knees threatened to give out, and she gripped the edge of the couch for support. “You can’t just… show up and—”

“And what?” His lips hovered over hers, their breath mingling. “And remind you you’re mine?”

The word mine sent a sharp pulse through her, deep and primal.

“You’re—” She stopped, because saying you’re not felt like a lie her body wouldn’t let her tell.

He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that said he already knew she wouldn’t deny it.

“You should tell me to leave,” he said, his thumb now stroking slow circles against her skin. “One word, and I’m gone.”

But the word never came.

Instead, she felt herself lean forward, her lips brushing his in the softest ghost of a kiss. The reaction was instant—his fingers tightened on her neck, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

He deepened the kiss without hesitation, his mouth claiming hers in a way that stole every ounce of breath from her lungs. Her hands found his shirt, curling in the fabric as he pressed closer, his body heat wrapping around her like a second skin.

The kiss wasn’t gentle—it was hungry, demanding, pulling every ounce of resistance from her and replacing it with a molten ache that pooled low in her belly.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, his forehead resting against hers.

“This is going to ruin me,” he said quietly.

She almost laughed, except her chest was too tight. “Pretty sure it’s already ruining me.”

His hand slid from her neck to her waist, his fingers splaying over her hip possessively. “Then maybe we should stop fighting it.”

Her pulse stuttered at the suggestion.

He searched her eyes for a long moment, then stepped back—just enough to put space between them, though the bond still thrummed hot and alive in the air.

“Sleep,” he said, his voice thick with something unreadable. “If you can.”

Then he turned and walked out, leaving her standing there with her heart racing and her lips tingling, wondering how much longer they could keep circling before the bond consumed them completely.

The silence after the door clicked shut was deafening.

Fernanda stood frozen, staring at the space Ace had just vacated, her fingers still curled in the fabric of her oversized T-shirt like they could hold on to the warmth he’d left behind.

She told herself to move. To breathe. To shake it off.

But her body had other ideas.

The scent of him lingered in her apartment—rich, intoxicating, threaded with that distinctly Alpha undertone that made her want to roll it into her lungs and never exhale. She sat down on the couch, curling her legs under her, but the cushions still held the faintest trace of his presence.

She could still feel his thumb against her jaw.

Still hear the rough timbre of his voice in her ear.

Still taste him.

Her thighs pressed together tightly as she leaned back, eyes closing.

No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t think of anything else.

With a frustrated groan, she got up and padded to her bedroom. Maybe if she buried herself in blankets, she’d force her body to rest. She switched off the lamp, letting the room fall into soft darkness, but the shadows seemed alive with his memory.

The more she tried to ignore it, the worse it became.

Every beat of her heart was a drum calling his name.

She tossed. Turned. Sat up. Lay down again.

And then—her phone buzzed.

She reached for it on the nightstand, the glow of the screen lighting her face.

Ace: Still can’t sleep.

Ace: Tell me to come back.

Her breath caught. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She could type “No” and mean it, or at least pretend to.

Instead, she typed nothing.

Three dots appeared, vanished, reappeared.

Ace: Say the word, omega.

Her heart pounded. She dropped the phone onto the bed like it burned and buried her face in her hands. If she let him come back, she wasn’t sure she’d stop him from finishing what the bond had started.

Minutes crawled by. She thought maybe he’d given up.

Until she heard it.

The quiet scrape of her balcony door sliding open.

Her head snapped toward the sound, her breath locking in her chest. The curtains shifted, and then—he stepped inside, the moonlight outlining his tall frame.

“Ace—” she started, but her voice cracked.

He closed the door behind him, never breaking eye contact. “I told you I couldn’t sleep.”

“You—” She swallowed hard. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” he said simply, moving toward her. “You didn’t tell me no. That’s all I needed.”

She sat there, frozen, her pulse thrumming loud in her ears as he came to stand at the edge of the bed. His scent filled the room, heavier now, pulling at every Omega instinct inside her.

“Last chance, Fernanda,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers. “Tell me to go.”

She opened her mouth… and nothing came out.

His lips curved—not in arrogance, but in something darker, more certain. He leaned down, bracing one hand on the mattress beside her hip. “Thought so.”

The air between them thickened until it felt like breathing him in was the only way to survive.

She didn’t remember moving, but suddenly her fingers were fisted in his shirt again, tugging him closer. His breath hitched, and then his mouth was on hers—hot, insistent, consuming.

The kiss deepened instantly, his other hand sliding to the small of her back, pulling her against him. She gasped into his mouth, and he took advantage, his tongue brushing hers in a way that sent sparks down her spine.

Every shred of logic dissolved under the heat.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing hard.

“This isn’t just want, omega,” he said, his voice low, the Alpha edge unmistakable. “It’s need. And you feel it too.”

She didn’t deny it.

Couldn’t.

He lingered for a moment longer, then pressed one last lingering kiss to her forehead. “Sleep. I’ll be close.”

And then, just as quietly as he came, he was gone again—leaving her tangled in sheets that now smelled like him, her heart pounding so fast she knew sleep wouldn’t come until dawn.