The Dragon's Forsaken Omega

The Scented ShadowEmber wiped her hands on her apron, ignoring the sting of soap on her cracked palms. The kitchens of the dragon palace were always sweltering, but today the heat felt heavier. The chatter of servants carried news that made her stomach twist: Prince Theron had returned from the war.She pressed a damp cloth to the counter, trying to steady her shaking hands. Omegas didn’t matter in the grand halls of dragons. Their lives were counted only in the meals they served and the pups they produced. Ember had learned long ago not to hope. Not even when her heart thumped strangely in her chest.“Ember!” a sharp voice called. She flinched and turned to see Marla, the head kitchen maid, glaring.“Careful with that soup, or you’ll ruin it,” Marla snapped.“Yes, ma’am,” Ember muttered, lowering the ladle. She hated how the omega scent in her blood flared whenever a dragon was near, making her feel like prey.The kitchens fell quiet as heavy steps echoed from the main hall. Ember froze, her ears catching the faintest scent—something foreign, powerful, and familiar. She tried to mask the reaction as she stirred the stew.“Who’s ready to meet the Crown Prince?” a young wolf servant whispered behind her, nudging a tray. Ember ignored him.Then he was there. Theron. The dragon prince strode through the palace corridors with a presence that made the walls hum. Eyes like molten gold scanned the room, and Ember’s breath hitched. He stopped abruptly, nostrils flaring, and looked directly at her.Her pulse hammered so fast she thought it would betray her. And then it happened—she smelled it before she even understood it. He smelled her.The scent of omega. Not just any omega. Ember’s scent.Theron’s sharp gaze didn’t waver. His hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach for her but couldn’t. Ember’s knees weakened, and she gripped the counter to stay upright.“Prepare the hall for my return,” Theron said to the staff in a low voice that made heads bow. Then, almost casually, he added, “And make sure the kitchen smells of… welcome.”Ember’s chest tightened. She felt the pull before she realized what it meant—a strange, deep tug in her chest, her body reacting in ways it shouldn’t. Heat burned along her spine. The suppressants in her system weren’t enough.Marla barked, breaking the moment. “Ember! Do you hear me?”“Yes… yes, ma’am,” Ember whispered, lowering her eyes.Later, in the grand hall, the dragons celebrated Theron’s return. Music echoed against golden pillars, banners fluttered, and nobles bowed low. Ember carried trays of wine and finger foods, unnoticed by most. She liked it that way. Until she bumped into him.“Watch it,” she muttered, barely glancing up.“I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” Theron said, his voice calm but laced with something Ember couldn’t place. He held her gaze for a heartbeat too long. Then, shockingly, he smiled.Her stomach twisted. “Y-Your Highness,” she stammered.“Yes, omega,” he said softly. “You have a strong scent. Very strong.”The world felt like it had tilted. Ember tried to shrink into herself, but the magic in her blood stirred, reacting to him. It was wrong. Dragons didn’t mate with wolves. Omegas were beneath them.And yet…Later that evening, the hall buzzed with whispers. The dragon princess arrived, her golden gown shimmering. Eyes turned toward the prince as he approached her, kneeling briefly in ceremony. Ember watched from the sidelines, heart hammering.Then came the words that struck her like ice.“I am engaged to Princess Selara,” Theron announced, loud enough for the hall to hear. “Any rumors suggesting otherwise are false.”The laughter and applause of the nobles filled the hall. Ember felt hollow, her chest aching. Rejected. Publicly. Humiliated.Kieran’s words from the shadows of her past—warnings she barely remembered—echoed faintly in her mind: Don’t trust dragons. They take what they want and leave nothing behind.She turned away, forcing herself to focus on the trays she carried. Her hands shook. She wanted to flee, to hide, to disappear. Instead, she delivered the wine, hiding her rising heat and the stirrings of ancient power in her veins.Alone in the kitchen later, Ember sank to the floor. Her breaths came fast. The suppressants had failed. Magic throbbed inside her, ancient and wild. Flames of heat and energy coiled around her like invisible chains. She pressed her palms to the tiles, trying to anchor herself.A whisper brushed her ear.“You are not ordinary,” a voice said. Ember spun, but no one was there. Only the shadows danced in the candlelight.Her ancestors’ magic, long thought extinct, pulsed in her blood. She didn’t understand it. All she knew was that something deep inside her had awakened, responding to the dragon who had scorned her.And somewhere in the palace, Theron paused in the hall, sensing it. A flicker of unease crossed his golden eyes. The bond had been triggered.But neither of them could act on it yet. The world had rules, traditions, and consequences. Dragons did not mate with wolves. Omegas were weak. And yet, in that moment, the very air of the palace seemed to hum with forbidden possibility.Ember stayed on the floor until the moonlight filtered through the high windows. Her heartbeat slowed, though the heat in her veins did not. She had been rejected. Publicly. But something had changed, something deeper than fear, shame, or hunger.Magic. Heritage. Fate.And the crown prince, golden-eyed and impossibly powerful, had unknowingly walked into her shadow.Tomorrow, she will wake up again. Tomorrow, the palace will never be the same.Because Ember, the lowest omega in the palace kitchens, was no ordinary wolf.