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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.