Page 36 of Generation Omega: Claimed
Without moving—without even touching me—it feels like Kaz’s hot, calloused hand is around my cock. He wouldn’t get me off like this, just using his power over me… in front of the other alphas. Right? That wouldn’t be appropriate, would it?
For fifteen of the longest seconds of my life, I think he might actually do it, and it fries all my brain cells. But then the extreme pressure vanishes, along with the perception of his touch, and I deflate in more ways than one.
Please, just say something. We could be downstairs together, talking, fucking, connecting. We made it through the heat. I want to know what comes next for us.
I think Kaz sprayed poison on the last remaining imaginary crickets, stealing even their last desperate echoes.
I can’t decide how to process this unexpected situation. Am I angry? Am I being a jerk? Am I expecting more from him than I should? Am I too needy? Or am I just a bored brat who misses the fervor of the heat now that it’s over? The fact that my pulse stirs over that last option is more uncomfortable than I want to admit.
Since I don’t dare look at Gideon again, I turn my attention toward the two men I wouldneverwant to bite me, even if their bonds were the only hope of saving myself or the entire freaking universe. Thatcher and Jameson are seated on the couches in the back. Jameson is about a hundred questions into his game oftwenty questionsabout the omegaverse, and Thatcher is rattling off answer after answer, seeming almost content for the first time since joining this yacht party. It’s too bad they can’t be forced to bond each other and elope a million miles from here. Personally, I don’t mind Jameson, but he’swaytoo attractive—to Tillie,notto me, I quickly add to prevent another cock torture session.
“Oh, fuck—notagain,” Kaz grumbles, staring down at his crotch, his flag flying high. Oh, looky here… the omegaverse’s brand of instant karma. My cock isn’t the only cock that can be controlled remotely—well, how about that,alpha?
Kaz utters a string of severe-sounding words in Russian, likely about the omegaverse, but who knows? He could be listing the ingredients in his favorite dessert for all I know. Damn, I thought it, and now he knows just how irritating it would be for him tofinallyspeak to me, but in a language I don’t know. The dickhead would totally do that.
I feel his probing awareness in my mind and heart, like he’s searching for something. It’s easy to guess. He’s interested in my reaction to what inspired his abruptly flying flag. “I’mfine,” I mutter. But am I? It’s like hitting a ramp with my old dirt bike and sailing into the air, awaiting the landing to determine whether there’s a crash in my future. So, what’s the truth? Am I reallyfinewith the source of Kaz’s unconsenting erection? I am—I have to be. Tillie needs to connect with her alphas, and that’s what is happening above us right now.
A bowl clanks behind me, and I spin, watching Gideon hunch over and grip the counter. Beside me, Kaz groans hostilely.
“What now?”
Gideon grimaces, his normally suave face truly out of sorts. “Mackenzie just bonded Tillie.” He rolls his neck, massaging it ruthlessly. “Oh, wow…”
“Really?” Thatcher asks, rising and moving toward Gideon. “That’s good. But why are you… what are you feeling?”
Gideon’s teeth lock together, and he appears to be fiercely straining to reopen them. He might need a crowbar, though I doubt that’s handy on a fancy boat. Eventually, he manages to say, “It feels like someone’s moving in on my territory, claiming part of what belongs to me. It’s not fluffy or fun, this omegaverse of yours.”
“Damn,” Jameson blurts, “what just changed? It’s worse now.”
Gideon clears his throat twice, and his words are so constricted they’re barely understandable. “It’s not Tillie and Mackenzie now—it’s Ory and the omega. It feels like a heat’s about to beginagain.” Gideon grunts through some serious discomfort.
“What the fuck?!” Jameson’s gawking at his tented pants. “It’smydick. Down, dick—down.”
“Trust me, Jameson,” Gideon ruefully murmurs, “it’smuchworse once you have a knot.”
“Speaking of…” Ignoring his rogue cock, Jameson launches the next round of questions, now about knots, but only makes it through one before Kaz snarls wildly, and Gideon snaps his teeth together so loudly it sends a chill through me.
“What?” I’m going to keep repeating that word every five seconds until I don’t feel so excluded from our pack’s current events.
Gideon hisses. “Oh, that fucker just bit her—Ory this time, on her breast, and she’s keening inside, calling us all to her like she’ll die if she doesn’t get all our knots in the next few seconds.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Kaz can’t seem to stop. He’s grasping the wheel to remain in place. “Oh, fuck, fucking fuck… this fuckinghurtslike a son of a damn bitch in fucking heat.”
I’m about to demand answers again, but the smug expression Gideon’s wearing, along with the absolute horror from Kaz, Jameson’s face that’s frozen in shock, and Thatcher’s pained relief… I know exactly what I never wanted to know.
Yup, they’ve all got knots now—everyone has what Tillie needs except me. I didn’t realize the denial I was clinging to until reality dealt it a mortal blow. I’m just getting kicked in the face, over and over, and still standing stupidly in place, not even bothering to defend myself.
Oh.
Is that what this is? What surfaced right before the heat began, when that image planted itself in my soul? That can crushed beneath a boot and discarded like trash. Everything within me instantly becomes a spiraling tornado attached to a black hole that I didn’t even realize was lurking so close.
This path I’m on will lead to more pain than I’ve ever known, and just like when I was a boy, I could have stood up and walked away. This story didn’t have to be mine. But I didn’t leave. I was trapped and terrified of a loss I couldn’t comprehend, and I’m still there. I’m that quivering boy whose only option is to lose something so dear to him that his life will be irrevocably changed.
The night of the fire, if I’d left my bed and gone to the window, my dad would still be alive, but I would have lost my belief that my father was a superhero, capable of always protecting me. I want him back—I wish I had done something different. Every single minute, I wish I would have been willing to overcome my fears and accept that sometimes kids have to save themselves.
If I’d abandoned Tillie when she begged me to, my entire life would have changed, become unrecognizable to me. I never even considered it, but I wish I had—not because I would have done anything differently, but because I might have more peace now if I’d made my choice from a place of self-awareness and accountability.
If I’d acknowledged to myself that part of the reason I stayed with her was because I was terrified to discover who I was without her, then there wouldn’t be sharp fragments of a can still tearing into me. But I didn’t let myself honestly own anything about this choice that will define the rest of my life. I’ll never know who I was meant to be beyond what I am to her.
