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Summary
He’d tried, after the revenge trip in Mexico. Not to court or claim an omega, but to simply be near one. Exist in the same space. He had barely stepped off base when he had to reel himself back—the stench of sweetness so strong it almost smelled of rot. He wanted to rid himself of it—bury it deep and ever deeper. Bury the omega, himself, and the wretched instincts that drove him. Hence why, from then on, he resolved himself to solitude. The 141 and no one else—stick with other alphas (—lesser alphas—no—) with no omega, warm or soft, or hurt, or bleeding, to push him down and pull that monster to the surface again. For he’d had his revenge, but that didn’t mean he liked what he became. And what he became was anything but human.
But now he’s digging the curve of his fingernails through his gloves, into your skin, into your thighs—marking the flesh with moon-shaped indents while he breathes you in, heady and sweet.
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Simon Riley returns from Mexico a changed man. No longer alpha, either, but "apex."
And you're the sweet little thing trapped in a cell with him, until your heat breaks.
(NOTE: this fic is only marked NON/DUB-CON because of OMEGA HEAT.)