HER FATED MATE IS AN OMEGA
SYNOPSIS:
"I spent ten years scrubbing your floors, Greene. Tonight, you'll scrub mine."
Elara Vance has always been the pride the Republic until she ran away from home, fell in love with Greene Jones, a man who treated her like dirt and discarded her like she was never the girl the entire Republic feared because of her strong dominating pheromones.
Now she's back after twelve years to serve revenge to Greene Jones like a hot dish in a way that he will pay for every act meted out on her for twelve years. But things wasn't going to go as planned as she meets Silas, the handsome bulky head of her father's security but a recessive omega of her past that she has totally forgotten but now wears a new stance as her bodyguard, recognized by the entire republic as an Alpha, and her perfect chosen mate, Calvin; ruining the comeback and revenge she planned out for herself and now she has to think about saving and claiming her mate, Silas while navigating and protecting the seat meant for her.
The real question becomes; will Calvin ever allow her take all it took him twelve years to build?
THEME: The true definition of power. Is it found in the biological dominance of an Alpha, or in the resilience of an Omega who survived in the lion's den?
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Chapter 10
For a second, time stopped. Elara's mind went completely blank. She wasn't thinking, control gone, just impact mixed with heat and shock.
His lips were hot, burning against hers like he was trying to anchor himself, like she was the only thing keeping him from completely losing it.
"Please Elara...save me..." He murmured into her mouth, his hands suddenly beginning to leave their position on her waist, trailing over her back, sparks and ignition flying everywhere across her skin, dragging upward over the silk of her dress, leaving a trail of static electricity in their wake.
And for that dangerous second, she melted into her want, her lips suddenly moving against her will, grinding against his, flaring their senses. Her heart was beating out of proportion.
Her fingers tangling in the damp hair at the nape of his neck to tilt his head back. She let her lips slide from his mouth, tracing the hard line of his jaw until she found the pulse point in his neck. It was hammering, a frantic rhythm that matched her own. She pressed her face there, inhaling the raw, unmasked scent of his distress.
"Ugh...there right there..." he whispered, his head falling back against the pillow. She sucked his neck, loving the scent, loving the way her heart jumped at each suck...she placed her palms on his hard bulky chest, rubbing gently against the hard nipples before she pulled down and let her tongue whip around one nipple.
"Augh...Elara!" Silas let out a wrecked moan, gripping the sheets, his eyes closing.
The sound of his voice, raw, broken, and desperate, sent a fresh wave of heat through Elara's veins. It wasn't just the physical reaction; it was the power of it. To hear Silas reduced to a panting, trembling mess under her touch was a drug she hadn't known she was craving.
She didn't stop. Her tongue flicked across the peak of his nipple again, slower this time, savoring the way his entire body jolted beneath her. She could feel the heavy thud of his heart against her palms, a wild rhythm that mirrored the storm breaking inside her.
"Is this what you wanted?" she murmured against his heated skin.
Silas couldn't answer with words. His breath was coming in jagged hitches, his head thrashing slightly against the pillow as he fought for air that was saturated with her scent. His hands finally broke their grip on the sheets, reaching for her. They didn't go for her waist this time; they slid lower, his large palms cupping the silk-covered curve of her glutes.
He squeezed, his fingers digging in with a possessive, grounding strength that pulled her flush against the hard ache of his thighs. The friction was a revelation. Even through the layers of her gown, the contact was electric, a spark that traveled straight to the junction of her legs.
"Elara... please," he gasped, "I can't... I can't breathe without you."
He surged upward, driven by a sudden, primal need to reclaim her mouth. He didn't wait for her permission. His lips crashed into hers again, messy and fevered, his tongue seeking hers with a starved intensity.
As they kissed, Silas's hands moved with a newfound urgency. He didn't have the patience for the intricate boning of her dress or the delicate silk ties. His frustration peaked as he felt the barrier between his skin and hers. With a low, guttural sound of effort, his fingers hooked into the neckline of her corset.
Rip.
The sound of tearing silk was loud in the quiet room, a sharp punctuation to their heavy breathing. The bodice gave way, falling open to reveal her breasts to the dim, amber light. For a heartbeat, Silas froze, his eyes wide and glazed with a mixture of reverence and raw hunger.
"You're... perfect," he whispered, his voice trembling.
He didn't give her a chance to respond. He leaned in, his mouth seeking one dark, aching peak. He didn't just touch her; he feasted, his tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles before his teeth grazed the sensitive skin.
"Uhhh..." Elara threw her head back, her fingers digging into his shoulders as a loud, uninhibited moan broke from her throat. It was the sound of her control finally snapping, the last of her reservations burning away in the furnace of his heat.
"More," she hissed, her Alpha nature finally taking the reins. "Don't you dare stop, Silas."
He didn't stop, there was no way he was going to stop, every bit of Elara plus his scent was melting him further, driving him saner.
He crawled down to the center of her legs, where the pheromones smelled stronger, where her heat and horniness mixed lured him in.
Elara spread her legs apart for him, watching him as he lay on his stomach, his mouth to her center, and then delved, his tongue hitting against her raw flesh.
"Ugh..." She moaned loudly, new sparks of pleasure spreading over her skin.
The sound of her own voice should have bruised her pride but it didn't. She reached down, her fingers tangling in Silas's hair as he continued to suck her, knead her before pushing his fingers in.
He crouched lower, and as he moved, the scent from his back began to leak out, thick and heavy. It was floral, like crushed lilies and sun-warmed honey, a cloying sweetness that spoiled her senses even further. It was the unmistakable mark of an Omega in peak heat, and it triggered something primal in her Alpha biology.
Driven by a sudden, frantic curiosity, Elara tore him away from her lap. She gripped his shoulders and turned him around, forcing him to present himself to her. She leaned in, inhaling the warm, concentrated scent of his behind. As he shifted, she heard the faint, screeching sound of his hole as it stretched under the pressure of his heat and then pulled back to its original size, elastic and primed.
She was more dumbfounded than riled up in that moment.
Elara had truly never seen a male Omega before, let alone witnessed how their bodies transformed when they were in heat. The way his skin seemed to pulse, the sheer physical readiness of him, was a biological marvel she wasn't prepared for.
Twelve years ago didn't even show this side of him.
Her hand reached out, trembling slightly, to touch the flushed, tight skin of his hole. The moment her fingertips made contact, Silas winced, his entire frame shuddering violently. He let out a broken whimper, his muscles twitching under her touch as if the mere brush of her hand was an electric shock.
"You..." Her voice seized, the words dying in her throat..
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9.1
Cora crash-landed her escape pod on a brutal alien planet, only to be immediately hunted by a massive six-eyed beast.
A colossal black wolf dropped from the canopy and crushed the beast's neck to save her. But before she could even breathe, the wolf transformed into a towering, naked primitive man with glowing gold eyes.
He hauled her back to his savage tribe, where she was instantly treated like garbage. The women sneered at her fragile human body, and the men eyed her like fresh meat.
The tribe leader's jealous daughter even handed her a waterskin laced with a terrifying alien breeding drug, hoping to turn Cora into a mindless spectacle of lust in front of the entire settlement.
"Drink. You look like you're dying," the daughter sneered, waiting for Cora to lose her mind.
Cora was terrified and completely out of her depth. She didn't understand why this lethal Alpha warrior looked at her with such dark, consuming possessiveness, or why he was willing to slaughter his own people just to protect her.
How was a stranded human supposed to survive in a terrifying world where every plant, beast, and local wanted her dead?
"BEEP! Critical Warning! Liquid contains high concentrations of alien aphrodisiac herbs," her implanted AI assistant suddenly echoed in her skull.
Looking at the hostile tribe and the fiercely protective Alpha shielding her, Cora silently activated her tech interface. She wasn't just going to be a helpless pet in this savage world.
9.7
Sienna woke up in a hospital room, her body screaming from a severe car accident. Through the glass, a man paced with violent rage, a dark shadow she felt absolutely nothing for.
Her friend Julia burst in, eyes bloodshot, dropping a bomb: "He didn't even try to help you." Dante, Sienna's fiancé, had protected another woman, Valeria, in the crash, leaving Sienna to burn alive.
Her past life unspooled – seven years sacrificed, an architecture degree abandoned, all to serve Dante. Her phone was a shrine to him: his photos, his "taboos," and even "Valeria's preferences," with no trace of Sienna herself.
But amnesia brought no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating fury. She felt disgust for the "idiot" she'd been, stripped of dignity. The memory loss was a release, a blank slate.
With chilling resolve, Sienna deleted every trace of Dante. Ripping out her IV, she declared, "The wedding proceeds." Not for love, but as a weapon: "I need to take back everything that belongs to me before I disappear."
8.1
On my wedding day, the wedding planner looked at me with pity in her eyes.
She told me the groom had called with a last-minute request. He wanted the name on the floral arch changed from "Elena" to "Sofia."
Five years of loyalty to Dante Romero, and I found out he was planning a "secret" ceremony with his mistress an hour before ours.
He claimed she was dying of cancer. He said it was her final wish to be a bride, and that as a good mafia wife, I should understand. He swore it was just charity.
But I had seen the texts where he called me "furniture."
I had watched him step over my body when I fell down the stairs at a club, just so he could leave with her.
And this morning, I watched Sofia walk into the hotel lobby wearing *my* custom French lace wedding dress, smirking as she clung to his arm.
Dante thinks I'm crying in the bridal suite.
He thinks I will sit in the front row of his "fake" wedding and wait for my turn like a dutiful puppet.
He is wrong.
I wiped my tears and picked up my phone. I didn't cancel the wedding date. I just changed the location to the ballroom next door.
And I changed the groom.
As Dante says his vows to his mistress, I am walking down the aisle to meet the only man the Romero family fears.
The Reaper.
8.6
For two years, I was trapped behind my own eyes, a prisoner in my own skull.
A crazed fan had hijacked my body after a brutal car crash, wearing my skin like a cheap suit.
When my soul finally locked back into my flesh in a cramped hospital room, I realized she had destroyed everything I built.
This parasitic stalker had drained my massive fortune to zero, buying luxury gifts for a mediocre actor and turning me into the internet's most hated woman.
My phone was flooded with death threats, and the hashtag demanding I go to hell was trending at number one.
Even the hospital nurses despised me. One marched into my room, raising her hand to violently slap my pale cheek.
"You psychotic bitch, you make me sick!"
Worse, my sprawling Beverly Hills estate had been foreclosed and sold to a mysterious billionaire named Kasey Dominguez.
I had absolutely nothing left. No money. No reputation. No home.
The sheer violation of watching a psychotic stranger ruin my life while I was locked in the passenger seat of my own mind made my blood boil.
I refused to let her destroy my legacy.
As the nurse's hand descended, my atrophied muscles snapped into action.
I twisted her wrist until the joint popped, grabbed the keys to my freedom, and slipped out into the cold Los Angeles night.
I was going to take my life back, starting with the billionaire who thought he owned my house.
8.0
For ten years, I played the safe, "wolfless" emotional support animal for my werewolf best friend, Finn, secretly loving him while he chased his toxic ex.
When she got engaged to a rival Alpha, he dragged me across the country to crash the mating ceremony, only to abandon me at the airport.
His terrifying older brother, Alpha Knox, picked me up instead and shattered my world with one sentence: Finn had always known how I felt, and he intentionally weaponized my devotion.
To prove how little I meant to him, Knox orchestrated a cruel test at a seedy Rogue club.
While I sat right next to Finn in a sticky booth, Knox sent over a stripper.
"You don't mind, right, Sloane? It's just a gift," Finn slurred.
Without hesitating, he let the stripper straddle him right in front of me, burying his face in her neck to chase away the pain of his ex.
A decade of my blind loyalty turned to ash in that smoke-filled room.
I hated my defective, wolfless biology, but I hated him more for treating me like a stray dog begging for scraps.
Why did I waste my entire youth protecting a male who didn't even see me as a woman?
Suffocating on shame and fury, I fled to the cramped club bathroom to hide.
*Click.*
The deadbolt slid into place, and the intoxicating scent of a violent thunderstorm and spent gunpowder swallowed me whole.
Alpha Knox Crawford stood against the locked door, his merciless eyes pinning me to the sink.
7.1
I worked eighty-hour weeks on Wall Street just to keep my sick brother alive, enduring endless humiliation from the wealthy family that adopted us.
But when I went to surprise my boyfriend of three years, I found him kissing my spoiled adoptive sister, Tatum.
They were celebrating their engagement to merge their powerful families.
To keep me quiet, my adoptive mother, Eleanor, threatened to freeze my brother's medical trust fund unless I attended the party to play the supportive sister.
Instead, I discovered Eleanor had been embezzling from my brother's life-saving fund to cover her own bad investments.
The nightmare worsened when a drunken Ryder cornered me in my apartment stairwell.
"Once I marry Tatum, Eleanor is giving me control of Liam's trust fund to buy out my father's board members."
He planned to drain my brother's medical money, dump Tatum, and keep me as his mistress.
For a decade, I suffered their abuse hoping for a shred of decency, only to realize they were plotting to leave my brother to die on the streets for corporate greed.
Calling the police wouldn't stop these billionaires. I needed absolute power.
Remembering the dark, predatory gaze of Jaren Jarvis—the ruthless billionaire who had watched me fight back at the party—I canceled my call to 911.
If they wanted to destroy my only family, I was going to use the devil himself to crush theirs.