THE FATED OMEGA MATE

Chapter 10:Elias

We have been in this position for a while now. Damian had fallen asleep almost immediately after asking if we could stay like that for a bit longer. I had wanted to say something, to ask him why, to tell him how strange it felt to be this close to him, but the sound of his soft, steady snore silenced me.

Instead, I let myself sink into his embrace. His body was overwhelming. Strong, broad shoulders that felt like walls around me, muscles hard and solid under the heat of his skin. Yet despite his size, there was nothing suffocating about his hold. His warmth wrapped around me like a blanket, steady and grounding, as if nothing outside this bed could ever touch me.

It was intoxicating.

I wish we could always be like this. That I could wake up each day with his arms locked firmly around me, his heartbeat steady against my back, his scent covering me like the safest cocoon. I wished this wasn’t a dream, but deep down I knew better. This wasn’t real, not really. And it wasn’t something I could ever keep.

Damian Blackwell didn’t belong to anyone. And I was the last person who could ever hope to claim him.

The thought made my chest ache.

Carefully, I shifted, trying to lift his arm so I could slip away before reality could cut any deeper. But even in his sleep, his grip tightened, pulling me closer against his chest as if he refused to let go.

For a moment, I froze. My heart betrayed me, fluttering at the thought that maybe, just maybe ,he wanted me near. I wanted to stay. God, I wanted to stay. But wanting only led to pain, and I already knew how this would end. It was only a matter of time before another woman, another beta, another alpha was in his arms.

The smile that had crept onto my lips moments ago vanished. I reminded myself that holding onto hope would only break me worse in the end. That thought gave me the courage to say the words I thought I needed to:

“Sir, what can I do for you?”

I hadn’t meant for it to sound like that, hadn’t meant it to sound so small.

His body stiffened instantly.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice sharp even through the grogginess of sleep. “Are you asking if I want a new girl in my bed?”

“No, sir, I..”

But before I could finish, his pheromones hit me like a storm. Thick, sharp, laced with anger. My body betrayed me as it always did, going weak, trembling in his hold. My limbs went limp, my breath shallow.

He must have noticed.

Because the next second, his pheromones eased, his hold loosened, not ripped away, not harsh, just, deliberate. Controlled. As if he knew exactly what effect he had on me and didn’t want to break me completely.

He sat up, turning his back to me. I pulled air back into my lungs slowly, each breath shaky until my body finally steadied.

“Get out,” he muttered, his voice low, hard.

I blinked. My chest tightened, but I stayed still.

“… This is my room,” I said softly, unable to stop myself from pointing out the obvious.

He didn’t respond. Just stood, shoulders stiff, movements harsh with irritation, and walked out. He didn’t look at me once.

I lay there, staring at the space he had left behind, my chest heavy.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined Damian Blackwell, the untouchable, arrogant playboy, the man who looked down on omegas like me, would not only let me into his bed, but hold me. Cuddle me. Breathe me in as if I mattered.

And yet he had.

I wanted to believe it meant something, that there was some hidden part of his heart that cared for me. But hope was dangerous. Hope was cruel.

I couldn’t let myself believe it.

So I stayed in bed a little longer, my face pressed against the pillow that still carried his scent. The sheets still warm from his body. I inhaled deeply, memorizing it, letting myself bask in the illusion for just a few more stolen minutes.

Because I knew once I stood, once I left this room, all of it would vanish.

And this fleeting happiness would never return.

As I walked down the grand staircase, I swore Damian’s scent still lingered faintly on my skin. The warmth of his body hadn’t completely left me. It clung to me like an afterimage, soft and cruel all at once. My chest tightened at the memory of waking in his arms, but I forced myself to steady my steps. I had to act as though nothing had happened.

The dining room was already set, sunlight spilling through the tall windows and gleaming across polished silverware. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries drifted through the air, drawing me in. At the long oak table stood Butler George, bowing his head politely as I entered.

George had been with the Blackwell family for decades, or so I’d been told. His hair was a neat silver, his face lined with the kind of wisdom only years of service could give. His eyes, though aged, held kindness and subtle understanding. He was the type of man who noticed everything but rarely spoke of it.

“Good morning, Elias,” George said with the calm, practiced grace of someone who had lived his life in quiet devotion to others. As he poured steaming tea into a porcelain cup, the faint clink of china echoed softly in the room. “I do hope your night was pleasant.”

The breakfast spread before me looked incredible, fluffy golden croissants, scrambled eggs cooked to perfection, roasted tomatoes glistening with herbs, sausages sizzling slightly even as they rested on the plate, and slices of fruit arranged like art on a platter. The smell alone made my mouth water.

“Good morning, George,” I replied politely as I took my seat. "Yes, my night was pleasant. I can’t complain.”

He offered a faint smile, as though he knew more than I said. “Sir asked me to inform you that you should prepare after breakfast. You will be accompanying him to the movie premiere tonight.”

I paused, fork halfway to my mouth. A premiere? That was the kind of event only the elite attended. I managed a nod, hiding the nervous flutter in my chest. “Of course. Thank you for letting me know.”

After breakfast, I returned to my room and carefully dressed. The mirror reflected a version of myself I wasn’t entirely used to,sleek black slacks that fit better than any clothes I had ever owned, paired with a soft cream shirt that hugged my frame. A tailored jacket completed the look, subtle but refined. Not shabby, I thought, though standing next to Damian, I would always feel invisible.

When I went to check on him, I almost wished I hadn’t. Damian stood in his room adjusting the cuffs of his charcoal-gray suit. The fabric molded perfectly to his tall, broad frame, the crisp white shirt underneath open just enough at the collar to hint at recklessness beneath the polish. His hair was styled effortlessly, a few strands falling onto his forehead, and his aura was commanding, impossible to ignore.

I quickly averted my eyes, heat rushing through me, but I knew the image of him would stay burned in my mind.

By the time he descended the staircase, George already had the limo waiting outside. But what surprised me was when Damian himself opened the door for me. His hand brushed my arm gently as he helped me in, and for the briefest second, my heart stuttered. He had never done that before.

When he settled beside me, silence filled the air until his voice cut through it.

“How are you?”

I glanced at him, searching for any hint of irony, but his expression was unreadable. Why ask, after walking out of my room without a word not long ago? Still, I gave the safest answer I could.

“I’m good, sir. And you don’t have to worry anymore, the suppressant Dr. Max gave me works. I took some.”

To my shock, his lips curved into a smile. A real smile. Not the arrogant smirk he gave the media or the sharp grin he wore in business meetings, but something softer, almost boyish. It was gone in an instant, but the memory of it left me stunned.

The rest of the ride passed in silence, though the unspoken tension seemed louder than any words.

When we arrived at the venue, I pressed my face slightly closer to the window, peering out at the red carpet already alive with flashing lights and reporters clamoring for a glimpse of the stars. The grand entrance was draped in banners, velvet ropes holding back crowds of fans cheering from behind barriers. I haven’t been to many events like this, but ever since joining Blackthorne Enterprises, perks have been thrown at me whether I wanted them or not.

I hadn’t realized the car had stopped until Damian’s door opened. I caught the sound of it closing, then the chauffeur circled to open mine, but Damian beat him to it.

He extended his hand toward me, and before I could hesitate, his arm slipped around my waist. The spark was instant, sharp and startling, shooting through my chest. I told myself it was nothing. Just for appearances. Just for the cameras. But my body betrayed me, leaning subtly into his hold.

We walked down the carpet together, the world flashing around us in bursts of light. Damian posed effortlessly, every angle of his face perfection, while I kept my gaze steady, doing my best not to look overwhelmed. Reporters shouted, cameras clicked, and yet all I could feel was his hand, firm and possessive at my waist.

Finally, after what felt like hours of flashing lights and endless smiles, we stepped inside. The dimly lit theater buzzed with chatter, the air charged with expectation.

The movie passed in a blur, my attention torn between the screen and the man seated beside me. But it was afterward, at the after-party, that my stomach twisted with dread. The hall was crowded, music thrumming through the air, crystal glasses clinking. This was exactly the kind of place I avoided. A playground for alphas and their admirers, a battlefield of status and seduction.

And here I was. Right at Damian Blackwell’s side.

I exhaled slowly, bracing myself. Here we go again. I just hope tonight doesn’t go to hell.