Her scent had simply vanished from the street. Security had not recorded her leaving through the foot gate at the entrance.
I had spent almost two hours searching for her.
At first, I was annoyed, but worry had seeped in slowly, insidiously. Where was she?
I was about to leave and demand that Sara start a search party when I heard her walking along the driveway gravel. When had I committed to memory the distinct stride of her steps?
I was waiting for her on the porch when she looked up and climbed the few steps.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Is your fiancé still here?” she asked instead of answering me.
I growled.
“You left the estate,” I told her.
“I didn’t realise I was a prisoner,” she answered.
I laughed.
“You didn’t think you had to have my permission to leave the estate?” I asked. Was she serious? “You’re mine, omega,” I reminded her.
“Is that all I am to you? Just an omega?” she asked.
Frustration flared within me.
“You’re not just any omega. You’re my omega,” I told her.
“What? Were you worried?” she mocked.
I stepped towards her and took hold of her upper arm.
“Yes,” I told her.
She looked shocked before she tried to shake out of my hold.
“Let me go,” she demanded.
“No,” I said and pulled her closer.
The scent of Darren hung loosely on her jacket.
“Darren,” I said.
“We went for breakfast at Heaven’s Bar,” she told me.
“He took you without asking,” I said.
“Does he need your permission?” she asked.
“Yes,” I hissed. He had already put her in enough danger. “You’re covered inmyscent, wearingmymark; you belong to me,” I told her.
She stopped struggling in my hold, and I watched her resistance crumble before the addictive scent of her pheromones began.
“Stop it,” she said softly.
I growled frustratedly.
