To ruin an Omega novel Chapter 475

Chapter 475: Don’t be emotional 1

HAZEL

I sat rigid in the passenger seat, my hands clenched around my purse like it might try to escape if I loosened my grip. Inside, the aphrodisiac packet felt heavier than physics allowed. The weight of it pressed against my palm through the leather, a small thing carrying the full force of everything I’d set in motion.

Beside me, Lysander drove without speaking. His jaw was locked tight enough that I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. His knuckles had gone pale where they gripped the steering wheel, bloodless and strained. The silence between us felt thick enough to choke on, broken only by the engine’s steady hum and the faint rush of air through the cracked windows.

In the back seat, Delta remained perfectly still. I caught her reflection in the side mirror occasionally. Her eyes tracked between Lysander and me with that perceptive awareness she’d always had, the kind that knew something was deeply wrong but chose not to intrude. She was good at that. Knowing when to stay quiet... Mostly.

Outside, the last traces of daylight had disappeared. Darkness pressed against the windows like something alive and watching, swallowing the road ahead until only the headlights existed.

Inside the car, my condition worsened by the minute.

Heat flooded my skin in waves that the air conditioning couldn’t touch. It left me flushed and restless, my face burning despite the cold air blasting from the vents. Sweat gathered at my temples and trailed down my spine in slow, maddening lines. My dress clung to my body as if it were shrinking, tightening around my ribs until breathing took effort.

I shifted in my seat. Then shifted again. Searching for some position, some angle that might offer relief.

Nothing came.

Lysander’s scent only made it worse. Even with the windows cracked open, it filled every inch of the space. Sandalwood layered with something distinctly masculine and clean, something that settled deep in my lungs and refused to leave no matter how shallowly I breathed. I inhaled without meaning to, my body betraying me as my thoughts began to blur at the edges.

I knew exactly what was happening.

The early signs of estrus were giving way to full heat. My body was slowly slipping into a state I despised. If anything, I’d come to resent my new Omega designation even more. What else could this be associated with if not weakness and loss of control? The very things I’d spent my entire life avoiding, now coded into my biology like a genetic betrayal.

I tried to fight it with sheer will. I reminded myself of who I was. Born Luna fucking Hazel Hughes. I catalogued the plan I’d carefully constructed, reviewed the necessity behind enduring this temporary hell.

But my body didn’t respond to logic or pride.

It reacted instinctively, dragging me further into sensation despite my resistance. Thoughts I didn’t want began to surface, uninvited and vivid. I noticed the way Lysander’s hands gripped the wheel again, steady and controlled, and my mind twisted the image into something else entirely. His fingers flexing. Those same hands pressing against skin.

I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek until copper flooded my tongue.

The pain helped. Barely.

The cadence of his voice when he hummed to himself lingered in my ears, reshaped into something commanding. Even the small movement of his hand shifting gears sent an unwanted reaction through me, with heat pooling low in my stomach in a way that made me want to claw my own skin off.

I bit down harder. The blood came faster now.

"Mistress Hazel."

Delta’s voice cut through the haze. Soft and careful, the way people spoke when approaching wounded animals.

I didn’t turn around. But she stood from where she at and leaned towards my ear.

"The suppressants," she continued gently. "You should take them. Before this gets worse."

The suggestion hung in the air between us, fragile and hopeful.

"No."

The word came out sharper than I intended. I swallowed and tried again, keeping my voice level.

"I can’t. Not now."

"Mistress Hazel—"

"I said no."

I couldn’t take them. Not when everything depended on me reaching the peak of this condition. I needed the illusion to be convincing, needed Wenzel to believe that what happened later was nothing but uncontrollable instinct. A tragic accident of biology and proximity.

The decision was final, even as it cost me.

Delta fell silent and sat back down. I could feel her worry radiating from the back seat like heat from a furnace, but she didn’t push. She understood better than to waste her breath when my mind was made up.

The drive stretched on. Each minute felt longer than the last, time distorting under the weight of my worsening state. Lysander’s scent grew thicker. Or maybe my sensitivity to it increased. Either way, breathing became a conscious effort, each inhale bringing more of him into my lungs until I couldn’t tell where the air ended and he began.

My hands trembled against my purse. I pressed them down harder, trying to still the shaking through pressure alone.

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