Chapter 188
What the hell was going on?
Asher strode through the mansion, a fire burning in his chest. Her lips lingered on his, the ghost of them feather-light, but pushing volts of electricity through him like a storm. He couldn’t handle himself.
Who the fuck was she?
One minute, he was in Clover’s bed, her body hot, smooth in his hands. She was everything he’d ever wanted, and—maybe shit had happened in the last year. But none of it mattered. He didn’t recall any of it now.
All he knew was that he’d wanted Clover. That he’d spent months wanting her, watching her melt in Ryan’s hands. Watching the others pine for her. Watching her dissolve away from him. And now things were different—he had her. Who was this Omega bitch who’d come crawling under his skin? He wanted to hate her the same way he hated all Omega girls. But something about her touch had stuck him like a thorn.
He was furious and he didn’t know why. He wanted to get her scent off of him, to scrape it from his skin, but she was still in his room. So he took the elevator up to Grayson’s and shoved the door open.
He was in bed, reading a comic when Asher stormed in. He flung up. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Using your bathroom,” Asher said. He walked in without another word and flung the shower door open. The water had just begun to warm up when Grayson threw open the bathroom door.
“What the hell is your problem? Get out.”
“Get the rat out of my room and I’ll get out of your fucking hair. But until then, I don’t feel like stripping down in front of an Omega leech.”
“You fucking idiot,” Grayson snarled back at him. “Two weeks ago, you were fighting us all for her affection. Now look at you. If you didn’t care about her, why are you so bothered by her existence?”
The question stung Asher deep. He didn’t know why—he should’ve have cared at all. He should’ve just brushed her off, treated her like the trash she was and went on his way. He finished up, flung open the shower door and snatched the towel Grayson was handing to him. “She knows too much about me. Did you tell her all that shit?”
“I didn’t tell her anything.” Grayson was standing there, his hair still mussed from his bed, his arms crossed. Asher felt strangely conflicted looking into his face. Not that he cared much what the others thought of him, but they were all disappointed at the same time, for reasons he didn’t particularly understand. Since when had any of them given a shit about Omegas?
“I get you’re all messed up right now,” Grayson was saying, his eyes narrowed. “But you loved Cecilia. You admitted it to me yourself. And you’re hurting her by acting this way.”
Asher didn’t feel sympathy. Didn’t want to, anyway. “She’s not my problem. I’m with Clover.”
“You haven’t been with Clover in over a year,” Grayson spat. “Clover ruined all of us. She’s using you.”
Asher couldn’t hold back the rage in him. He grabbed Grayson by the collar and shoved him up against the wall. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He served Grayson a shove and stormed out of the room, back to his own in nothing but a towel. By the time he arrived, the Omega was gone. The small cat still remained, though, curled up on his sheets. He sneered at it as the cat looked up at him with wide, expecting eyes. Asher unleashed a volatile scoff and tore open his closet, dressing in the first thing he could find. Then he grabbed his wallet and keys and left.
It was nearly nine at night when he arrived back at Clover’s apartment complexes. Grayson was wrong. She wasn’t using him—couldn’t be. They were just jealous. They had all loved Clover and now, suddenly, they were pining after that Omega? It was pathetic. Just a deterrent from the truth. They couldn’t land Clover, so they were settling for something else.
He took the elevator up to her floor, and as he approached her apartment door, it swung open. A man stepped out—younger than him. Maybe college-age. He glanced at Asher momentarily before walking off toward the elevator.
Asher caught the door before Clover could close it and stepped inside.
She looked a bit surprised to see him. “Oh,” she said. “I wasn’t sure you’d be back.”
“Who was that?” Asher asked, gesturing to the hallway.
“Just a service boy,” Clover responded promptly. “My garbage disposal had stopped working.”
Asher knew somewhere deep inside of him that he didn’t believe her. But Clover was dressed appropriately. Her outfit wasn’t wrinkled, her hair wasn’t mussed. If he had been anything more than a service boy, he did nothing to her.
“What?” she asked, reading the complicated look on his face. “You think I fucked him or something?”
“You think I care?” asked Asher, knowing he did. That he was just as full of shit as she was.
A coy smile came over Clover’s lips. “Of course, hubby. You’re supposed to be making an honest woman out of me, aren’t you?” She began to unbutton her shirt—cleavage popping from the tight fabric. “So make me honest.”
Asher didn’t hesitate—he never did when it came to Clover. He pulled her in roughly by the waist and kissed her, and her body bowed against him, her fingers quickly finding their way into his hair. He wanted terribly for it to feel the same way it did when the Omega had kissed him, but it was stagnant. There was no electricity, no heart-pumping zaps coursing through his veins. It frustrated him.
Clover pulled back with a look of surprise and gazed up into his eyes. “You don’t usually kiss me,” she admitted.
Asher served her a shove onto the bed and in moments they were naked, tangled into one another. He loved her body—her thick curves, her large breasts, the way she looked when he moved inside of her. But as Asher laid back on the bed, Clover atop him, riding his hips, something felt terrible wrong.
He was breathless—she tended to do that to him. She was rough and selfish, fast and demanding. She moved with a purpose, a goal. And Asher held her by the hips, pleasured breaths escaping him. She felt good—always felt good. But for some reason, as she bounced atop him, he didn’t see her as Clover. It was like his mind kept replacing her with the Omega—her face, her body, her hair. Not Clover, but…what was her name? Cecilia?
When they finished, Clover fell asleep promptly, but Asher laid awake. Yet again, he felt filthy—like clawing off his own skin. So he showered, dressed in fresh clothes, and stared down at Clover’s sleeping body. This was his fiance? This was the woman he was meant to marry in less than a month? And yet he couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping beside her. What the hell was this?
He gave in, snatched his keys and left the apartment. He didn’t understand what drove him back to the mansion—why he was returning, and why he went directly to the Omega’s room instead of his own. But he found her there, sprawled in the sheets, wearing nothing but short pink cotton shorts and a t-shirt that cut off above her midriff. Something was familiar. He’d seen these clothes before. Touched her while she laid like this before.
He wanted to see her. To study her. To know if this body looked familiar, or if he was just losing his mind. So he stood beside her bed, his keys still in his hand, and ran a finger up her soft thigh. Her skin shivered under his touch, but she didn’t wake. Didn’t stir, until he had hooked the waist of her shorts and drawn them down over her plump backside. Then she began to wake, gazing up at him with tired eyes. “Asher,” she murmured.
He cupped her backside, fingers squeezing into the skin. He wanted to fuck her. Needed to fuck her.
But how could he look himself in the face?
Then, suddenly, the Omega was pulling her shorts down on her own. She laid there, bottom-naked, her smooth skin glowing in the moonlight. She was…just giving herself to him? Like that? After how disgusted he had been with her all this time?
The smell of her was radiating, soaking into his skin. Then she drew her shirt up over her breasts and looked at him like that—waiting. Expecting. He looked down at her body—beautiful, flawless breasts. Soft stomach, pale skin.
It was like a fire had imploded inside of him.
“Why?” he asked, his jaw tight as he struggled to restrain himself.
“Because,” she muttered, her face pink, glistening with lust. “I love you. Even if you don’t love me anymore.”
Asher felt his throat tighten. He unbuckled his belt, tore it from his waist, feeling that pulsing growing and growing in his slacks.
The Omega reached for him and pulled him in by the shirt. And as they hovered close, inches from kissing, she muttered, “Should we go to your secret room?”