Page 8 of The Dragon's Omega

“Uh, hi.” My stupid little wave was mortifying, totally cringey, but I held strong and waited for a response. Could dragons speak? Pretty sure they did in some stories?—

Vidar gave me a slow, meaningful blink, his gaze locked on me.

“Did you, uh…” I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath. When I woke up this morning, I did not expect to have a mostly one-sided conversation with a dragon.

I expected another brain-dead date night with the Synn alphas, which, from experience, was its own brand of torture. This was preferable.

“Did you just kidnap me?” His blank stare spoke volumes of incredulity. “Or did you… see what they were doing, a-and…” My face went up in flames, nipples suddenly too sensitive beneath the bodice’s built-in bra. The material was thick enough that they wouldn’t show, but I felt them pebble with interest the longer he watched me. “Did you rescue me? Is that what this is?”

Another long, slow blink met a gusting exhale—yes. Affirmative. He…

“Oh.”

My knees knocked and wibble-wobbled, on the verge of a swoon. Unless I was in heat, I wasn’t very overtly omega in my mannerisms, but for the first time, I wasn’t embarrassed about my desire to sink to the ground and bathe in warm, fuzzy feelings.

He was obviously in pain. Underfed. Probably depressed as hell, living in that sad excuse for a den.

But he saw what those alphas were trying to do, and he acted. If he hadn’t, I’d probably still be on my knees in the gravel. I would have been raped, plain and simple.

Staunch traditionalists believed omegas couldn’t be raped, that we were built for knotting and breeding and rutting. In their minds, our bodies were primed for sex all the time, and as soon as our heat clicked in, it was brain off, lust on—like animals.

Opinions like that influenced proposed state and federal laws, the belief that omegas shouldn’t have voting rights, that we shouldn’t work or pursue higher education shaping political rhetoric to this day.

We weren’t broodmares. We weren’t precious little lambs. We were not damsels who needed an alpha or a pack to survive. I didn’t deserve a knot I didn’t want just because my biology was triggered. It was my choice, my body.

“Well, you know, thank you—really. Thank you for what you did.”

I sniffled through the raw emotion pricking my eyes, scenting my perfume in the process. It was in free flow now, not just spritzing or misting at random. No, this was a rolling fog of vanilla and cardamom, undercut by sandalwood.

While I’d never said it, I had always been insecure about my scent. The sandalwood made what was warm and cozy read so masculine compared to my omega friends. I used to feel embarrassed when that side of me came out, even if it meant I was happy, but I had always liked it better than the violets.

Here, now, I was grateful for all of it. I had literally nothing out here but me, and my perfume was the deepest part of my omega being.

Clearing my throat, I drifted around Vidar’s massive snout to take in the big picture. Slumped on his side, his chest and belly were exposed—but hardly vulnerable. The scales here were smoother, just as thick as the ones on his back but more streamlined.

Except for one.

No, one smack-dab in the middle of his chest stuck out at an odd angle, like a wonky tooth that didn’t fit with the rest.

“They told me you were hurt.” I nibbled my lower lip, frowning at that scale—at the memory of his tale with the hunters. Vidar, like he could feel my scrutiny, tried to roll over, but he barely moved before he whined and snarled, those four massive claws curling in on themselves.

“Okay, okay.” Patting the air, I adopted a tone that was soothing but not patronizing. Alpha-omega influence wasn’t a one-way street. We omegas had a few subtle, seemingly innocent advantages when it came to making alphas do what we wanted, and it was in nobody’s best interest for this one to bolt right now. Vidar needed to feel safe. He needed to know I wasn’t judging him, nor did I think less of him for his injury. “Listen,” I pressed, my words soft and sweet. “I want to thank you for what you did back there. I’m sure it took a lot out of you, so, uh, maybe I can… try to take… that out of you?”

Frowning, I made my way to the shoreline, only stopping when the chilly water nipped at my toes. That had to be where he was hit. The scale, a golden teardrop, was warped and discolored compared to those around it. It went against the grain with every breath, jutting out. What did it feel like to him? A chipped nail? A hangnail? A fracture? A break? Worse?

“Maybe I can—” I staggered backward when Vidar lifted his giant head and squinted down at me. While huge, it was lean too, the small, sharp barbs along his lower mandible built like thorns. The ones on top of his nostrils were arched, almost more artistic than practical. Those sticking out of his cheekbones were sleek, angled back and up, threading into the largest spikes that gave him his golden crown. He was an impressive creature, to put it lightly.

I suddenly wanted to paint. Every facet. Every detail. Fill my whole studio with him.

For now, however, I owed him big time, and no matter how long it took, this omega paid her debts.

“Maybe I can pull out whatever’s in there?” I glanced pointedly at the dodgy scale. “If you’ll let me?”

Vidar didn’t move, but his grunt felt like a begrudging acquiescence. Dress hitched, I headed into the water, determined to take the pain away, only to freeze again when he lurched up, sitting taller, and bared his teeth. My perfume misted harder in response, but not the fearful, soothing violet side. No, this was full cozy calm, and I countered his push of pheromones with a determined expression, hands planted on my hips.

“Don’t let alpha pride keep you trapped like this. No one likes a martyr.” Sucking in my cheeks, I made a show of surveying him from top to bottom. “You’re hurt, and I bet breaking out of a concrete prison and flying for who knows how long exacerbated it.”

Flicking what were once light, beachy waves—now flat and damp—over my shoulder, my brass bobby pins lost forever, I trudged into the water. Frost sloshed up my legs one step at a time, but I pushed onward, not stopping until it reached my hips. “And… And, you know what, it hurts me to think about you hurting, so…” An embarrassed flush warmed my cheeks, the weight of his gaze heavier than the sun as it tracked me. “Stop fussing.”