Omega’s Gambit by Flora Quincy

Omega’s Virtue: Part One

Beatrice

My breath camein fast pants, my heart rushing, ears ringing with shouts of my pursuer. I didn’t bother to look over my shoulder, I didn’t bother to contemplate what might happen if I were caught. No. I ran. Ran as fast as possible.

“Stop you piece of baggage!” The alpha’s bark ricocheted about my body. He sought to use that defining characteristic of an alpha against me. More fool him. I was Beatrice Jane Hartwell and I was no one’s meek and mild omega. It rankled to flee rather than tell this pompous ass that he and his whole dynamic were pathetic fools for believing that alphas were superior to omegas or betas simply because of their bark—no need to think about those other things alphas had that had my resolve wavering, my steps faltering.

I took the right hand turning and kept running.

Then the left… Was that correct? I’d been so focused on escaping a room full of alphas that I hadn’t paid attention to where I was running. Just get away. Stupid heat. Stupid heat for coming on while I was in the middle of proving to those officious, spiteful, snobbish pieces of filth that my paintings deserved to be presented at the Summer Exhibition. Curse everyone… Them, me, but most especially the curse of being an omega.

I skidded to a stop. In my last turning, I’d come across a dead end. There were two doors to choose from, neither marked, both closed. The pounding footsteps of the alpha chasing me was getting louder. I needed to pick.

Left.

Locked.

Right?

Locked.

Well, that made for an unfortunate solution. I reached inside the pocket of my blue satin coat and pulled out my pistol. I checked to make sure it was loaded and raised it, prepared to shoot whomsoever came around the corner and tried to rape me. It was not a foregone conclusion that the alpha would rape me. Some alphas had enough control of their natural instincts when around omegas in heat—even omegas with mates were in danger. That this alpha had followed me indicated he was as affected by my scent as if I was an unmated, virgin omega. And by now I’d realised that my heat was very much upon me. All I desired was to strip away my clothes, allow the cool air to caress my skin, and then try to give myself as many orgasms as possible. I cursed that I’d been given no choice but come today when they were making the final selection… Goddess, I needed to get naked.

“Omega!” the alpha roared. He was close.

The pistol shook a little. Not from fear but because the cramps that accompanied my heat screamed for my body to crumble into a ball of agony. It was as if my womb was haunted and wanted to leave my body, pulling me apart from the inside out. A cruel trick to be an omega and a woman. My monthly cycles were also accompanied by cramps, though not nearly so bad as these. I wished for my nest, for hot bricks, and ice to suck on. For sips of brandy. For sweets. My mouth watered at the thought of candied orange peal.

No matter that I might be raped by an alpha, I wanted candied orange peal more than anything in the world.

“Omega…”

I looked up to see who held my fate in his hands.

The alpha was easily the tallest I’d ever seen with prematurely grey hair that matched his cold grey eyes. His mouth was beautiful even as he snarlingly prowled towards me. Goddess he was beautiful, an offended angel sent to track down one of his fallen kinswomen.

“Omega, I do not know what you think you are doing, running around barefoot and in the beginning of your heat, but I do not approve.”

I wiggled my toes and realised I was, indeed, standing on the cold marble in my stocking feet. The marble felt lovely against my too hot feet.

“It feels lovely,” I smiled at him absently.

“Omega,” he growled causing a delicious shiver to run through my body.

My free hand absently travelled over my mating gland which pulsed with anticipation. This mystery alpha would bite me, mate me. Oh, he radiated the kind of alpha power that called to omegas. That powerful, dominating darkness we craved… At least in Gothic novels. In reality, alphas with this kind of instinctual power over me usually sent me running. I knew what it meant to be close to an alpha who caused my pulse to throb and my core to clench. One who’d taken everything I had to give—had given freely. Only now I was cornered by one such alpha with no where to go and, like a coward, I wanted to disappear rather than risk my heart again.

“I would be grateful if you escorted me to my coach,” I said, proud my voice sounded husky rather than desperate. Better for him to think I was seducing him, luring him to my nest, than that I wanted him to fuck me in this hallway.

“First, I’d like you to put down the gun,” he growled.

“Oh,” I looked at the pistol that was still levelled at his heart. “I forgot. Don’t come closer! I’ll shoot.”

“I’m coming closer. Do. Not. Shoot,” his growl caressed my body and my nipples ached, my breasts felt heavy. This is an alpha, my omega crooned. He could give us what we need. A knot. He would have a knot to remember. I tried to push the thought of knots away. What should I, a supposedly innocent spinster, know of knots?

“I will shoot,” I warned him

“You’ve a single bullet.”

“I only need one.”

He stopped, the frown he wore did n’t not take away from his beauty. No, not an angel to bring me back to the light. He was an avenging angel—one sent to drag me where he willed, into the light or dark I did not care. It made sense in my head even as the words fell over each other in my mind.

“My Goddess, you are beautiful,” I murmured.

“While I can return the compliment, I would like you to drop the pistol,” he purred.