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 8
"Him," Calvin said, his gaze fixed. "Why did he suddenly collapse?"
The question landed heavier than it should have.
Elara felt it not in her ears, but deeper, like something dropping straight into her stomach.
She swallowed, forcing herself to meet Calvin's eyes. Careful. Too careful. One wrong thought and he would hear it. The mind link between them wasn't something she could outrun.
So she didn't think, she reacted.
"Why do you care?" she replied coolly. "You people overwork him in this place."
Calvin let out a short, humorless snort. He stepped forward but Elara moved just as quickly, blocking his path without hesitation.
"I'm not a fool, Elara," he said, voice low. "Silas doesn't just fall. Not like that."
His eyes flicked past her, landing on Silas, who was still barely holding himself upright, his breathing uneven, his body trembling despite his efforts to stay composed.
"An Alpha who can't withstand your pheromones?" Calvin continued. "That doesn't make sense. Isn't he supposed to be dominant?"
That word lingered in the air, very dominant and Elara felt it tighten something in her chest. For a moment, just a moment, she saw it too clearly.
The way his body betrayed him, the way his scent had slipped out. The way he had collapsed... not from weakness, but from exposure.
It was too much.
"What exactly are you trying to say?" she asked, her tone sharpening as she faced him fully.
Calvin studied her, longer this time and more carefully.
"I'm asking," he said slowly, "why you suddenly care so much."
He asked studying her even further, "You disappeared for twelve years. Today is the first day you're back... and suddenly you're speaking for him? Defending him?"
His gaze narrowed slightly.
"That's not like you."
Elara didn't flinch. "Why?" she replied. "He's my bodyguard. His condition reflects on me. Of course, I'll take responsibility."
Calvin tilted his head slightly, unconvinced. "Responsibility?" he echoed. "For someone who suddenly has a 'condition' he's never had before?"
"Suddenly he's your bodyguard? I thought I heard you telling Father you want him replaced."
"Can still be replaced for his misconduct today." She replied, arms crossing her chest.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, clearly trying to piece it together.
"I've known Silas my whole life," he muttered. "Since the day our secondary sexes manifested. I've never seen him lose control. Not once."
His eyes flickered again toward Silas.
"And just now... I swear I caught something strange from him before he fell."
Elara's heart beat violently, then with a quiet assertion; "And you stepping in like this... doesn't help."
Elara's jaw tightened.
"Stay back," she said firmly. "I don't answer to you, Calvin."
For a moment, it looked like he might push further, say something sharper, but he didn't. He held it in and watched instead. That somehow was worse as Elara didn't give him another second before she turned back to Silas.
Up close, it was worse than before.
His body was burning she could feel the heat radiating off him even without touching him. His breathing was shallow, uneven, like every inhale cost him something.
Without hesitation, she moved. She pulled his arm over her shoulder, steadying his weight against her.
He was heavy and very solid but with her strength and the subtle control of her pheromones anchoring him, it didn't slow her down.
"I can help with that," Calvin offered, stepping forward again.
Her eyes snapped to him instantly, a very sharp warning, very primal and final.
"Don't" from her mindlink.
He stopped and just like that, he stayed back and actually watched as she led Silas away step by step.
Until they disappeared beyond the crowd, swallowed by the long stretch of hallways.
Calvin remained where he stood, his expression unreadable. Then his right-hand man stepped closer.
"Sir-"
"Find out what's wrong with Silas," Calvin said quietly. His anger suddenly rising without real reason, "Now."
Without waiting for a response, he turned, already moving toward the inner halls, toward the President, toward politics, toward everything that suddenly felt... secondary. Maybe to discuss his betrothal with Elara or something more. His eyes flickered to the shadow of Elara and Silas moving farther and farther away.
Elara moved quickly through the corridors, her grip steady on Silas as she searched for his room.
The deeper they went, the quieter it became and the silence reigning between them didn't help. It made everything worse, because there was nothing to distract her from his scent.
It was everywhere, very thick, sweet, and warm. How could a man smell this good without cologne? But dangerously, it clung to her senses, slipped into her lungs, settled under her skin.
For twelve years of suppressing herself, of dulling everything that made her what she was, she had forgotten how omegas smelled, forgotten how their pheromones reacted with hers. How they pulled and how they provoked, how they challenged her control in ways nothing else could.
And now...now she was holding one, her grip tightened unconsciously...no...she needed to get him away fast.
Finally, she stopped in front of a door. "This is it," she muttered under her breath.
She reached for the lock, but nothing. She tried again but nothing, still locked no matter how hard she tried. Of course, she doesn't know the password, guessing won't make the numbers suddenly appear in front of her.
She exhaled sharply already losing her patience when suddenly...Silas's lips brushed against her neck.
Her entire body stilled. A sharp, unfamiliar tension coiled deep in her stomach.
"Ugh..." he groaned softly, his voice slurred and strained. "My whole body... it's burning..."
Her senses snapped into overdrive. For a split second, she wasn't here, she was eighteen again standing in the dark. Hearing that same voice, smelling that same scent...seeing him...she blinked and forced herself back.
"Silas," she said firmly, grounding herself. "What's the passcode?"
She didn't expect an answer from him, not in this state but she wanted to break away from something pulling softly inside of her.
But he stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open, and when he looked at her, his weak, blurry eyes lit up.
"Is... that you?" he murmured, his voice softer now. "Elara...?"
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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.