The Alpha And His Omega

5

Rena

Nora’s words felt like ice water in my veins long after she left the kitchen. I stood by the washbasin, my hands trembling so hard I had to grip the edge of the cold stone. The winter camps. Everyone knew what happened there. Omegas who were too slow, too weak, or too broken were sent to the edge of the territory to haul wood until they dropped. Without a wolf to keep them warm, the frost took them first.

"Rena? Are you okay?" Martha asked, coming around the corner. She saw my face and sighed, her expression softening for a split second. "She’s a Beta’s daughter, child. They’re born with teeth. You just have to learn to stay out of their way."

"I was trying," I whispered.

"Try harder. Go take the trash out to the back pits. The air will do you good."

I nodded and grabbed the heavy bags. Anything to get away from the suffocating heat of the kitchen and the memory of Nora’s golden eyes full of hate.

The night air was biting, a reminder of the winter that was fast approaching. I walked toward the edge of the manor grounds, where the manicured gardens met the wilder woods. The moon was high and full, casting long, skeletal shadows across the grass.

As I tossed the bags into the bin, I heard a rustle in the bushes. My heart leaped into my throat. We lived in a pack, but that didn't mean the woods were safe for someone like me. I had no claws to defend myself.

"Who’s there?" I called out, my voice small.

A massive figure stepped out from the shadows of a large oak tree. My breath hitched. It was Tristan.

He wasn't wearing his gala jacket anymore. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms thick with muscle and corded veins. He looked raw, untamed, and completely out of place in the quiet garden.

"Alpha," I gasped, stepping back. My heel caught on a root, and I felt myself tipping backward toward the sharp edge of the stone pit.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the impact.

But it didn't come.

A hand, large and incredibly hot, clamped around my waist. Another gripped my forearm, steadying me with the strength of an iron vice. I was jerked forward, slamming into a chest that felt like a wall of solid granite.

The air left my lungs.

"Careful," he growled. His voice was low, vibrating through my entire body.

He didn't let go. For a long, heart-stopping minute, we stood there in the moonlight. My hands were pressed against his chest, and I could feel the thundering rhythm of his heart beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. It was fast—too fast for a man who was supposed to be in control.

The scent hit me again, stronger than ever. It was like being submerged in a warm ocean. My skin where he touched me felt like it was on fire, a searing, electric heat that made my toes curl. My inner wolf—the one I didn't even think existed—gave a tiny, faint stir, like a spark trying to catch in the wind.

Tristan’s grip tightened. His head tilted down, his nose brushing against my temple. I heard him inhale deeply, a ragged, desperate sound.

"You smell like..." he started, his voice trailing off into a pained groan.

I looked up at him, dazed. His hazel eyes were gone, replaced entirely by a swirling, molten gold. His wolf was right at the surface, staring at me with a hunger that made my knees go weak.

"I... I have to go," I whispered, though I didn't move. I couldn't move. The pull was like a physical chain, locking us together in the dark.

The heat between us grew, a heavy, pulsing tension that felt like it was about to snap. His thumb brushed against the skin of my waist, just under the hem of my shirt, and I let out a soft, involuntary whimper.

The sound seemed to snap him out of it.

Tristan suddenly shoved me away. It wasn't violent, but it was harsh. He stepped back, his chest heaving as if he had just run a marathon. The gold in his eyes flickered, fighting back to hazel.

"Go," he snapped, his voice cracking. "Get back to the manor, Rena. Now."

"Alpha, I—"

"I said go!" he roared, his voice echoing through the trees.

I didn't wait. I turned and bolted, my feet flying over the grass. My heart was screaming in my chest, a chaotic mess of fear and a longing I didn't want to admit. I didn't stop until I was back in the safety of the dim, crowded servant's quarters.

I crawled into my small cot, pulling the thin blanket up to my chin. My skin still burned where he had touched me. My heart wouldn't stop racing.

I was an Omega. He was the Heir.

But as I closed my eyes, all I could feel was the memory of his heartbeat against mine. The bond was there, screaming in the silence, and I knew my life would never be the same.