Hunted by the Omega

by S. Rodman

He is not in heat. The moon is not full. I’ve not just chased him through the woods. I’m all out of excuses. If I fuck him now, it’s just because I want to.

I line my cock up and start pushing in. He whines but I’m not holding him and he doesn’t try to move away. “Shut up, you love it once it’s in,” I pant. He whines again. “I hate that I want you!”

As much as I want to, I’m not just enjoying him because he is an omega. I’m enjoying all of him. Every inch of his murderous little chaos goblin self.

This is the moment of no return, where I betray everything and side with the monsters. Not monsters, werewolves, I mean shifters. My people. Fuck. This is hard.

I hate this. Why can’t I just be normal around him? How is he ever going to like me if I keep acting like a freak? Nevermind all the murder stuff.

A strange cackle echoes around me. Shit, it’s my own. I’m losing the plot. I really am, especially if I think not being murdered is romantic.

My five minutes of taking charge did not go well at all. I’m clearly far better suited to being second-in-command. Or the muscle. Or basically anything that is not diplomacy.

I don’t want to embarrass him or make him feel ashamed. Me falling apart and weeping ‘your childhood was so fucking traumatic,’ won’t make him feel great. Keeping him safe will.

I was just finally getting my act together and getting somewhere with Fitz. All I want to be doing is courting him and working towards making him my mate. Then I want us to have a long boring life. I don’t want to be dealing with any of this shit. It’s not fair.