The Alpha And His Omega

6

Tristan

The stone walls of the training gym were the only things I hadn’t managed to break yet. I slammed a heavy sandbag with a right hook that would have shattered a human’s ribs. The bag groaned, the chains rattling against the ceiling, but it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough to quiet the noise inside my head.

Mine, Vane roared, pacing the edges of my consciousness with bared teeth. Why did you push her? Why did you let her run?

"Because she’s nothing," I grunted, throwing a combination of strikes that blurred in the dim light. "She’s an Omega. A maid. She’s wolf-less, Vane. Think about the pack. Think about the bloodline."

Vane didn't care about bloodlines. He cared about the scent of rain and honey that was currently stained into the palms of my hands. I could still feel the dip of her waist where I’d grabbed her in the garden. She had felt so small, so breakable, and yet the moment our skin touched, it felt like a lightning strike had traveled straight to my marrow.

I stopped, my chest heaving, sweat dripping from my chin onto the mats. I looked at my hands. They were shaking.

This was a sickness. That was the only logical explanation. I was under too much pressure from my father, too much scrutiny from the elders, and my wolf was latching onto the first thing that felt like a distraction. It happened to Alphas sometimes—a temporary fixation to vent the stress.

"Get it together," I hissed at my reflection in the darkened window.

I spent the next three days in a state of calculated avoidance. I changed my routes through the manor. I stopped taking my meals in the small dining room near the kitchens and insisted on being served in my study. I even stayed out in the northern patrol lines until well past midnight, hoping the biting mountain air would freeze the heat out of my blood.

But the pack manor was a living thing, and it seemed determined to throw her in my path.

I was walking toward my father’s office for our morning briefing when I caught it—a flicker of gray fabric at the end of the hall. I stopped instantly, my boots skidding on the polished wood.

Rena was there, kneeling by the floorboards with a bucket of soapy water. She didn't see me. She was working with a quiet, focused intensity, her small hands moving back and forth. The morning light hit her hair, revealing hints of gold I hadn't noticed before.

Vane lunged forward in my mind, his claws digging into my thoughts. Go to her. Claim. Protect.

"No," I whispered.

I turned on my heel and walked the long way around, adding ten minutes to my trip just to avoid passing her. My heart was thudding a frantic rhythm against my ribs, and my throat felt tight. Every step away from her felt like pulling a needle through my skin, but I forced myself to do it.

I reached my father’s office, my jaw set so tight it ached. Alpha Deza was sitting behind his massive oak desk, several scrolls spread out before him. He didn't look up when I entered.

"You’re late," he said, his voice a low rumble.

"I took the perimeter check myself," I lied. "The frost is coming in early."

"Good. We need the pack focused." He finally looked up, his sharp eyes scanning my face. "You look like hell, Tristan. Have you been sleeping?"

"I’m fine."

"You don't look fine. You look like a wolf who’s been denied a kill." Deza leaned back, his fingers interlacing over his stomach. "The elders are asking about the solstice. Nora’s father is pushing for an official courting announcement. He’s noticed you’ve been avoiding her too."

"I’m avoiding everyone, Father. I’m busy."

"You’re the Heir. Your first business is the future of this pack. Nora is the perfect match. She’s strong, she’s loyal, and she’s already proven she can lead the females. What is the problem?"

The problem was that every time Nora touched me, my skin crawled. The problem was that the only scent I wanted was currently miles away in a basement laundry room.

"I just need time," I said, the words feeling like a heavy weight.

"Time is a luxury we don't have. Brian and Georgia are expecting. If they produce an heir before you even find a mate, the hierarchy will shift. The pack needs a Luna, Tristan. Not a ghost."

I left the office feeling like the walls were closing in. I headed toward the balcony, needing air, but as I passed the library, I saw her again.

This time, she was reaching for a high shelf, her shirt riding up just enough to show a sliver of pale skin at her lower back.

I froze. The world narrowed down to that one inch of skin. My wolf went silent, a predatory stillness taking over my body. I wanted to walk in there, lock the door, and find out if she tasted like honey, too.

Instead, I gripped the doorframe until the wood splintered under my fingers.

She is an Omega, I reminded myself, the words a mantra of self-hatred. She has no wolf. She brings nothing to the table. She is a defect.

I forced myself to keep walking, but the image of her stayed burned into my retinas. I spent the rest of the day in a cold fury, snapping at the guards and pushing the recruits until they were collapsing in the dirt.

If I couldn't have peace, no one would.

As the sun began to set, I found myself standing on the edge of the woods, looking back at the manor. Lights were flickering on in the windows. Somewhere in that massive stone house, Rena was finishing her chores. She was probably eating a meager meal in the servant's hall, invisible to everyone but me.

I hated her for what she was doing to me. I hated that a girl with no power held the leash to my soul.

"I won't let you break me," I whispered into the wind.

But as I turned to head back inside, Vane let out a low, mournful howl. He knew what I was trying to do. He knew I was fighting the Moon Goddess herself. And he knew that in a war of the heart, the Alpha always lost.