Seventy-one has sharp cheekbones and warm brown skin. I wish that I could see what color his eyes are.
I study his face, more fascinated than I expected to be.
I shake my head, confused at my reaction. I am used to handsome Omegas because of the auctions.
What’s wrong with me?
I glance at his wrist and am dismayed that he’s wearing the same steel Rej bracelet as Nico did.
Why is he a Reject? Because of his pheromone imbalance or something else?
Slowly, I can sense that the pheromone and scent blockers are lifting from the cell.
Relieved, I release as strong a bout of pheromones as I can to start working on the Omega.
I lean closer to check for Seventy-one’s pulse.
It’s there — thin and fluttering — but it’s fucking there.
Suddenly, however, I smell something else: A faint scent breaking through the scent blockers.
Sweet, vanilla cookies.
It’s delicious.
Shocked, I growl. Then I bury my nose into Seventy-one’s neck and take a deep breath of his scent gland.
Cookies.
It’s the best scent I’ve ever smelled.
This Omega is my scent match.
I bare my teeth, desperate to bite and claim.
Mine, mine, mine.
I lick along the sweet scented neck.
How could this happen?
How could I find my scent match Omega now? When we are both locked up in the ABO Facility?
How could he be dying?
Shaking, I force myself to pull back from Seventy-one’s throat, desperate to kiss him.
Yet I am even more desperate to save him.
“Who are you?” My expression softens. “How did you end up in this hell?”
I clench my jaw.
Whatever asshole hurt and threw away this gorgeous Omega, he is mine now. I will be his Alpha, if he’ll have me.
His protector.
Yet I must make sure that he survives the day.
