Zeke doesn’t flinch. Bastard’s known me too long to be scared. And he’s just as fucking dangerous as me. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“There’s a lot I’m not telling you. We’re not fucking besties.”
“Rahel.”
I release him and step back, letting my shadows settle and the glow fade. I’m so tired. So fucking hungry.
“We riding or what?”, I ask flatly.
Zeke eyes me for a long moment. Then he nods, letting it go for now. “Yeah. We riding.”
Valentine’s night is heaven for us. The city reeks of lust. It’s everywhere… dates, hookups, lonely people hoping, couples fucking. The energy is so thick I can taste it on my tongue, and my inner beast is fucking clawing at me to fucking feed.
But I can’t. Because no one is ever fucking her.
* * *
We ride through downtown, my brothers whooping and hollering, enjoying the hunt. Most of them will find someone tonight. Feed and come home satisfied.
I just need to make it until dawn. Then the pressure will ease. Then I can go back to my room and wait for sleep. Wait for her in my dreams. Fuck. Five hundred years old and I’m living for fucking dreams…
We’re passing through the arts district when it happens… A scent on the wind. I nearly lose control of my bike.
Chocolate. Brown sugar. Omega slick. FUCKINGHER!!!
It can’t be. I must be imagining it. The unbearable hunger is making me hallucinate… But then I inhale again and my body fucking seizes.
It is her. My dream girl. My omega. God, she’s fucking real.
And she’s close!
“Yo, Rahel!”
I don’t hear them calling after me. Don’t see my brothers slowing down. I’m already off my bike, helmet ripped off, following the scent like a man possessed.
Three blocks. Two. One.
To a little chocolate shop with a warm light in the window and a CLOSED sign on the door.
I can see her through the glass. Her curves, deep brown skin, the locks piled high on her head, flour on her apron. Fucking beautiful. With big brown eyes, soft features, and a full mouth. Tits and hips for fucking days. Thick thighs. The same small waist I’ve been circling with my hands in our dreams.
My girl. My omega. My fucking MATE.
When I try the handle, I realize the door is locked. Don’t fucking care. My shadows surge and the wood fucking shatters.
* * *
The Collision
Destiny
He’s huge. That’s my first thought. Massive shoulders in a black leather jacket, dark jeans. He has to be six-five, maybe six-six, built like a freaking tank. With tattoos crawling up a strong, corded neck. And he’s fucking gorgeous! Not pretty or classically handsome, but a real male. An alpha with manly features. Thick, dark eyebrows. A strong nose, full lips, cheekbones to fucking die for. And his eyes are… fucking glowing! Amber like fire, or molten gold, and they’re fucking fixed on me…
I should scream, run, or call the cops. I don’t know… something, anything!
Instead, my whole body goes soft.
Because there’s that scent.Smoke, leather, and something dark. Something that makes my omega roll over and present. I freaking know that scent! I’ve been dreaming it for months.Burying my face in my pillow, trying to find traces of it when I wake.
