The Omega Who Rose from the Ashes: The Alpha's Regret

James’s POV

The morning light sliced through the hallway blinds as James stood before Trishelle’s door. His knuckles hovered inches from the wood, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird beating its wings in panic. Every nerve ending still hummed with the memory of last night - her taste, her scent, the way she’d whispered his name against his throat as though it were sacred.

He adjusted himself in his jeans, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through his already oversensitive body. Three times. He’d come three times in the shower thinking about her, and still his body craved more. Teenage hormones had nothing on this - this was a full-grown man losing his damn mind over a woman who wasn’t his. Who could never be his, not really. Not while Bradley still drew breath.

When he’d emerged from the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist and steam still clinging to his skin, he’d heard that soft click from across the hall. Sam’s door. Coincidence? Or had the Beta been watching him, cataloging his every movement to report back to Bradley? The thought made his skin crawl, but not enough to douse the fire Trishelle had ignited in him. Nothing could extinguish that flame now.

He knocked. The sound echoed in the quiet corridor, too loud in the morning stillness.

The door swung open, and there she was - soft pink fabric draped over curves he’d explored with hands and mouth just hours ago. Her cheeks flushed the same color as her dress when their eyes met, and he watched the recognition bloom across her face, followed by something that looked dangerously like longing.

"James," she breathed, and fuck if his name didn’t sound like a prayer on her lips. Like absolution and damnation wrapped into two syllables.

He offered his hand, palm sweating despite his best efforts to appear composed. "Breakfast?" he managed, his voice rougher than intended, scraped raw by emotions he couldn’t name. "Then we can check on your stubborn Alpha."

Her fingers tangled with his, sending electricity up his arm and straight to his chest. "He’s going to be impossible," she warned, but her eyes sparkled with something else - amusement, maybe even relief. As if she were grateful for the excuse to delay facing Bradley.

"Always is," James agreed, leading her toward the stairs. His thumb traced circles on her palm, unable to stop touching her even in this small way. "But today he’s injured, which means he’s only half as impossible."

She laughed at that, the sound wrapping around his heart like silk.

The nursing home smelled of antiseptic and despair, of lives winding down in sterile rooms, but Trishelle’s laughter cut through it as James recounted his disastrous first attempt at shifting. He’d gotten stuck halfway - human face, wolf body, and a tail that wouldn’t stop wagging every time a nurse walked by.

"I can just see it," she gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. Her whole face lit up with mirth, and James committed the sight to memory. "Little wolf-James trying to flirt with the nurses while his tail gave away how excited he was."

"I was sixteen," he grumbled, but couldn’t maintain his fake annoyance. Her joy was infectious, a balm to the rawness of his own longing. "And that tail had a mind of its own. My father said it was the most embarrassing thing he’d ever witnessed. Made me practice in the basement for three months straight after that."

They found Bradley’s room on the third floor, but the moment Trishelle stepped inside, her laughter died. The air was thick with tension - something wrong, something off. James’s hand shot out to steady her as she froze, her body going rigid beneath his touch.

Bradley was already sitting up in bed, his expression thunderous despite the pallor of his skin. And Sam... Sam stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as he looked from James to Trishelle and back again. The Beta’s gaze lingered on their joined hands, and his lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Late," Bradley growled, though his gaze never left Trishelle. There was possession in that look, and accusation.

James’s stomach twisted. That look between Alpha and Beta - silent communication that said you’re not welcome here. That said we know what you did. He squeezed Trishelle’s hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb, memorizing the softness of her skin. "Give you some time with your mate," he whispered, the word catching in his throat like barbed wire, drawing blood with every syllable.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, her lips parting as if to protest, but before she could question him, he forced a smile and backed out of the room. The last thing he saw was Sam’s knowing smirk as the door closed between them, severing the connection like a blade.

Trishelle’s POV

The moment the door clicked shut, Bradley’s demeanor changed. The anger in his eyes softened to something else - hurt, maybe, or something darker. Something possessive and desperate.

"Come here," he commanded, his voice low and rough, edged with an authority that still made my knees weak after all these years.

My feet moved before my brain caught up, drawn by the magnetic pull that had always existed between us. Guilt burned in my chest as I approached his bed, each step feeling like a betrayal of what I’d shared with James. Last night with James had been... everything. And nothing. A moment stolen in the darkness that couldn’t survive the light of day, that couldn’t withstand the weight of reality.

Bradley’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, yanking me off balance with surprising strength for someone who’d been attacked just yesterday. I tumbled onto the bed, half beside him, half atop him, his movements careful of the bandages wrapped around his middle.

"Bradley!" I gasped, but his mouth was already on mine - hungry, demanding, tasting of mint and something uniquely him. It had been too long since I’d been kissed like this, since I’d felt this overwhelming surge of want from the man who was supposed to be mine. The man I’d chosen all those years ago.

"Missed you," he groaned against my lips, his hands already sliding under my dress, mapping familiar territory. "God, Trishelle, I’ve missed you. Missed this."

My body responded instantly, traitorously. His touch ignited fires I’d thought extinguished, or at least banked to embers. I straddled him without conscious thought, without meaning to, my hips grinding against the hard length of him. My body remembered this, even if my heart had started to forget.

"Sam’s guarding the door," he murmured, nipping at my throat in the way that always made me shiver. "Nobody’s coming in. We have time."

The reminder should have stopped me. Should have made me pull away, remember James waiting downstairs with that wounded look in his eyes, remember everything that had changed between us last night. Instead, it did the opposite - made me reckless, desperate to prove something to myself. To prove that what Bradley and I had wasn’t completely broken.

"Take this off," Bradley begged, fingers tangling in the fabric of my dress. His voice cracked with need. "Please, baby, let me see you. It’s been so long."

My hands shook as I lifted the dress over my head, exposing myself in the harsh fluorescent light of the hospital room. The cool air hit my skin, raising goosebumps across my arms and chest. When I reached behind to unclasp my bra, Bradley’s sharp inhale made me pause, suddenly self-conscious.

"Fuck," he breathed, his eyes darkening as they roamed over my breasts with an intensity that made me flush. "They’re..."

"Sensitive," I finished for him, cheeks burning. Heat crept down my neck and across my chest. "And bigger. The pregnancy - "

He reverently cupped them, testing their weight as though discovering something precious. His thumbs brushed against my nipples, and I shivered, pleasure shooting straight to my core. "Beautiful," he murmured, before leaning forward to take one into his mouth with a gentleness that surprised me.

I arched against him, the slight pain of his teeth mingling with overwhelming pleasure. My hips moved of their own accord, rubbing against his erection through the thin fabric of my leggings. His scent filled my nostrils - musky, male, home. This was home, wasn’t it? This was what I’d chosen.

"Bradley," I gasped, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. "Please..."

He pulled back with a pop, his eyes glazed with desire and something that looked almost like relief. "Need to be inside you," he rasped, pushing the covers down with fumbling hands. "Need to remind you who you belong to. Need you to remember us."

His words should have angered me. Should have made me push away, demand to know why he thought he could claim ownership of my body. Instead, they made me ache, made me want to prove him right and wrong all at once. Made me want to lose myself in the familiar instead of facing the terrifying unknown that James represented.

But when he reached for my leggings, I caught his hand. Reality crashed back in, cold and unforgiving. "Bradley, you’re hurt," I protested, gesturing to the bandages around his middle, already spotted with small blooms of red. "We shouldn’t... the doctors said - "

He scoffed, his eyes flashing with that familiar Alpha arrogance that had once made me feel protected and now just made me feel small. "We should. My wolf’s been AWOL since the attack. Nothing brings him back like burying myself balls deep in my mate." His grip on my hip tightened, almost bruising. "I need this, Trishelle. I need you to bring him back."

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