“Get this Omega out of my sight.”
1020 Words
Killian’s POV
“SHUT UP!”
The scream cracked the sky.
It wasn’t just a command—it was a detonation, a sonic rupture that split the night in two and shredded the last fragile thread holding my wolf together. He shrieked, recoiled, slammed herself against the inside of my ribs, desperate to obey, desperate to curl into a submissive ball at the feet of the monster whose voice alone could break his spine.
My own breath strangled in my throat.
I slapped both hands over my mouth, terror blooming so fast it felt like drowning. The courtyard, the night, the bodies—everything blurred into a smear of colorless static.
Except him.
Adrian stood several paces away now, but it didn’t matter. His presence crouched over me like a living shadow, like a wolf made of smoke and nightmares, jaws dripping with everything he’d never say aloud.
His chest heaved once.
Twice.
A third time.
He looked less like a king and more like a man fighting for oxygen in a room filled with poison.
And I was the poison.
His lip curled—not disdain, not disgust. Something worse.
Recognition.
“You speak,” he rasped, voice wild at the edges. “And it pulls.” His hand clawed again at his sternum, digging through leather like he could tear rib and cartilage apart. “It drags. It drags me to you like a dog.”
My wolf froze.
Dog.
He called himself a dog.
No one had ever seen him this exposed. No one had ever heard his voice c***k.
Not until me.
Bond. Mate. Ours. FIX HIM, FIX HIM—
I shoved the instincts down, choking on the bile of their betrayal. But they didn’t stop. They never stopped. They filled my head like a hive of wasps: touch him, calm him, soothe him, kneel, bare throat, bare stomach, bare everything—
Adrian’s eyes snapped to mine.
He saw it.
Saw the warring storm behind my gaze.
Saw the Omega instincts strangling my spine.
Saw the heat flickering shamefully low in my belly.
A sound left him then.
Not a growl.
Not a snarl.
Something hollow. Broken. A sound that should never come from a creature like him.
His knees nearly buckled.
“I said stay down,” he bit out, the words pushed through gritted teeth, shaking, fraying. “If you move—if you come closer—”
His voice splintered.
He didn’t finish the sentence.
He didn’t need to.
My wolf finished it anyway:
He will take us.
He will break us.
He will not stop.
Fear—hot and metallic—spilled into my veins.
But underneath it, deeper, darker, shameful:
Want.
As if my body were no longer mine, as if the bond had carved out my marrow and replaced it with molten, traitorous hunger.
I pressed myself lower to the ground, palms slipping in blood and ash, breath stuttering as the scent of iron rose around me.
Adrian dragged in another breath—another mistake.
His pupils blew wide again.
His hands trembled.
A shiver tore down his spine, vicious, violent, as if the wolf underneath had finally torn open its cage and wrapped claws around his lungs.
His voice dropped, shredded thin:
“You… smell like surrender.”
My heart detonated.
My wolf let out a trembling, broken howl that only we heard.
Mate wants. Mate takes. Mate burns—
“No,” I choked, shaking my head so fast my vision doubled. “I’m not— I didn’t—I’m not doing anything—”
“You breathe,” Adrian snarled. “And it tempts me.”
He took a step toward me before he could stop himself.
I scrambled back instinctively, my palms slipping on blood, nails cutting through skin. Hot wetness streaked down my wrist. Another step from him and my back hit the courtyard wall with a dull, final thud.
Cornered.
Pinned.
Caught.
His shadow swallowed mine whole.
He loomed over me, a monolith carved of fury and battle scars, his breath misting the cold air between us—ragged, uneven, desperate.
My own breaths came in short, trembling bursts.
He stared down at me, jaw clenched so tightly the muscle jumped beneath his skin.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
It was not a voice meant to be disobeyed.
My head lifted. Slow. Reluctant. Trembling.
Our eyes met.
For a heartbeat—a single, traitorous heartbeat—his expression cracked open.
Not softening.
Not gentleness.
Hunger.
Hunger so deep and ancient it felt like staring into the throat of a starved beast.
His hand twitched—toward my throat.
Toward my jaw.
Toward my pulse.
Instincts.
Bond.
Fate.
He wanted to touch.
He wanted to tear.
He wanted to claim.
He wanted everything.
And he hated himself for it.
“I should kill you,” he whispered, and it was the most honest thing he’d said all night. “I should end you before this bond destroys every piece of me that’s still sane.”
I swallowed hard, throat bobbing like a caught rabbit.
“Then…” My voice barely worked. “Why haven’t you?”
His breath hitched.
A c***k.
A fracture.
A shuddering exhale.
He leaned forward—closer, closer, until the tip of his nose nearly brushed mine, until the heat of him rolled off in waves, until I could taste him on the back of my tongue: iron, smoke, the promise of ruin.
“Because,” he said, voice a raw growl against my cheek, “my wolf already thinks you are his.”
He paused.
Then the blade slid in—
“And I will NOT kneel to destiny.”
His hand snapped to my throat.
Not choking.
Holding.
Claiming.
Ruining.
My wolf screamed.
My breath caught.
My vision blurred—
Then the world tilted, darkness rushing in like a tidal wave.
But just before consciousness slipped, I heard him snarl—low, cracked, furious:
“Get this Omega out of my sight.”
And then—
“Before I tear the bond open with my teeth.”
- Writer
