Page 39 of The Omega

But not that!

I clapped my hands over my mouth as a few of the Lunas screamed, watching as Dorian let go of the silk. He dropped ten feet before the silk caught him by the middle.

The audience went wild.

I swear I saw him wink before he started spinning, making me dizzy for him as he seemed to roll down the length of the silk before coming to a sudden stop, holding on only by his hand and ankle.

Cheers and laughter accompanied swoony sighs when he blew a kiss to the crowd.

I laughed a little to myself as I pretended to catch that kiss. My cheeks were burning. Deep parts of me were beginning to ache with an emptiness I’d never felt before. Dorian was perfect. I wanted him. So did every other female in this room.

He doesn’t belong to them.

Desire swirled, tugging at my chest. The music seemed to grow louder as it reached a crescendo.

Dorian wasn’t done yet.

Every muscle in his body tightened as he posed in an impossible feat, kicking off from the ropes and holding on with both hands, extending his legs straight in the air. He was a picture of strength and agility, his body moving in a way I couldn’t help but gawk over along with the others.

If he moves like that outside the bedroom…

I was no better than a man.

Then he—

“Goddess, no!” I shut my eyes, knowing I couldn’t watch what came next and needing to get ahold of my wolf. Judging by the feral cheers of the Lunas, Dorian had done something death-defying.

My eardrums rang with their hollers and then his scent hit me. Hard. That peppery, spicy perfume teased my nose. I wanted to bask in it.

But I needed to focus. To deny this building heat.

Keep it together until the show is over. I tried to coax myself to open my eyes and see what he’d do next.

It wasn’t until Cindy nudged my thigh with hers that I realized how quiet the room had become.

“This is going to be good,” Cindy whispered.

I looked up.

Dorian stood before me, breathing heavily. Every inch of his exposed skin and muscles glistened with sweat. That mischievous grin lit up his face as he held out his calloused hand.

“Dance with me, again, mate?”

And, despite the outraged gasps and heated glares burning holes into my back, how was I supposed to say no to that?

15

Atlas

I was going to kill Dorian Bailey.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

Opal was a dark angel. A raven-haired goddess. Dorian clung to his girly ropes, spinning my girl around the room. He made it look like she was flying. The loose black dress she wore floated in the wind they created. He held her in a way that made her weightless—not that she would weigh much anyway—but she looked so delicate and fragile up there. On stage. In his arms.

His hand was fixed to her small wrist. Her ankle hooked around his. The silk rope was tight in his fist as he climbed the two of them higher, wrapping her arms around his neck and then pushing her legs off so that my mate hung suspended in the air, trusting him as she clung to his neck.

I was going to be sick.