Chapter 3
503words
Morris pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's called a rut, not heat. Omegas have heats."
"But you're not an Omega."
"Do I look like an Omega to you?" he snapped.
I studied him—the rigid posture, the controlled breathing, the way he kept at least six feet between us at all times.
"Actually, yes."
His eyes flashed amber for a split second. Bingo.
"Get out."
"You invited me here to explain things," I reminded him.
"I invited you to shut you up." He poured himself a drink. "Yes, werewolves exist. We live among humans. We have jobs, pay taxes, and don't go around biting people. End of story."
*Well, of course I know all about werewolves—being an Alpha myself and all. But I think I’ll keep that little detail to myself for now. Nothing like watching him squirm while explaining Werewolves 101 to someone he thinks is a clueless human.*
"But you're an Omega pretending to be an Alpha."
The glass in his hand cracked. "I am NOT—" He stopped, took a breath. "My designation is irrelevant."
"Is that why you're so uptight? Suppressing your true nature?"
"You know nothing about me."
I leaned forward. "I know you're terrified of losing control. I know you've built this perfect, boring persona to hide behind. And I know you're fascinated by me, or I wouldn't be here."
"Fascinated?" He laughed bitterly. "You're a liability."
"I'm an opportunity." I stood and walked toward him. "Think about it—someone who knows your secret. Someone you don't have to pretend with. And someone who is an Alpha"
He backed away. "Stay where you are."
"Why? Afraid you might like it if I get closer?"
"You have no idea what you're playing with," he growled, and this time there was a rumble in his chest that wasn't human.
"Then educate me." I stepped closer. "What happens when an Omega meets someone they're attracted to? Especially when the tagert is an Alpha."
His back hit the wall. "I'm your boss."
"That's not what I asked."
For a moment, I saw it—the crack in his perfect mask. Desire, fear, curiosity.
"If you're trying to get a reaction," he said quietly, "you should know I've spent fifteen years learning to control my instincts."
I smiled. "Fifteen years is a long time to deny yourself, Morris."
His pupils dilated slightly. "What exactly do you want from me, Noah?"
"The truth. The real Morris Lawson." I was close enough now to see the pulse hammering in his throat. "And maybe, if you're interested, a chance to see what happens when you stop controlling everything."
His eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw something beyond the cold CEO facade—vulnerability, mixed with something dangerous.
"Be careful what you wish for," he whispered.
And in that moment, I knew I was already in too deep.
