The Reborn Omega's Revenge (Valencia)
Chapter 5

Valencia's POV

The chill of the night bit at my skin as I slipped out the door, but I didn't care. I couldn't stay there for another minute, not with Jaxon's words echoing in my mind.

His fake concern, his entitlement. I needed to get out, to breathe, to escape the suffocating dread that closed in on me like the night around me.

I called a cab and slid into the back seat, clutching my bag. "Noir Paradiso,” I muttered, my gaze fixed on the world passing by. The driver's eyebrow shot up, but he didn't say a word. I knew what I looked like-wine- stained dress, messed-up makeup, on my way to the most expensive bar in town. I could practically feel his judgment. Let him judge, I thought. If tonight was my new beginning, then I might as well make the start one to remember.

The cab finally stopped, and I tossed a bill at the driver, stepping out into the dim, ambient light of the bar's entrance. The heavy beat of music pulsed through the walls, and as I entered, the low lighting and warm wood tones wrapped around me like a cloak.

I made a beeline for the bar and ordered the strongest drink I could think of, my pulse calming as I lifted the glass to my lips. For once, the burn in my throat was welcome-it was real, tangible, something I could grasp. I hadn't even set my glass down before I felt a presence settle beside me.

I glanced up, my breath catching as I saw him.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and a casual posture, like he belonged to every place he stepped into. His skin was tan, his dark, slightly wavy hair curling at the nape of his neck. A quiet strength exuded from him, a confidence that made it hard to look away. He slid onto the stool next to mine, glancing at me with mild curiosity before looking away, uninterested.

I tilted my head toward the bartender. "Keep them coming..." I said, my voice more louder than I'd intended. The man beside me chuckled under his breath, the sound low and rich. "Maybe ease off that idea. Or you'll be under the table by the end of the hour."

I turned, raising an eyebrow. "What, you don't think I can handle it?"

He smirked, his gaze cool, detached. "Not the point. Just saying there are ways to forget things that don't end in a blackout."

I rolled my eyes, a smirk playing on my lips. "Nah, I'm tired of making sensible decisions."

“Ah, a rebel tonight.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, his tone a blend of humor and indifference. “Well, here's to reckless choices, I guess."

He raised his glass slightly, giving me an amused look as I shook my head, feeling my own lips tug into a smile.

We sat in silence for a moment, but he didn't leave, and didn't seem to want to either. So I kept talking, not knowing why. We said our basic introduction and the topic veered off...

"Your dress..." he said suddenly, his gaze dropping to the dark stain.

I scoffed. “Someone poured wine on me. Let's call it a..... friendly reminder of why I needed a night out.”

A hint of a smirk flashed across his face. "Rough day?"

"Rough life, more like it," I replied, the words tumbling out unfiltered. "What about you? Here to drown your sorrows too?"

He glanced at his glass, a hint of a laugh in his voice. "Alcohol doesn't work that easily on me. Already on my fifth bottle today."

I gave him a skeptical look, not bothering to hide my disbelief. “Five bottles, huh?"

"Swear on it," he said, his tone deadpan. "My employer threw me out because I wasn't 'bringing in clients' tonight."

I tilted my head, narrowing my gaze at him. "What exactly do you... do for a living?"

He leaned back, his eyes sweeping over me with an assessing look before he replied, “I service... other people."

His words hung in the air, deliberate and vague. My cheeks heated slightly as I took in his handsome face and the relaxed confidence that rolled off him in waves. So that's what he did. Well...

“I get it,” I said, tilting my glass toward him. “Not a bad night for that line of work."

“Don't know about that,” he murmured, his voice carrying an edge of humor as he sipped his drink, glancing over the crowd. Then he looked back at me, his gaze a shade more serious. "So, why'd you really come here?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden directness of his question. I could have brushed it off, made up an excuse, but something about him invited honesty. "A guy I liked,” I admitted, shrugging. “He... was going to propose."

His eyebrows shot up. "And that's a bad thing?"

I scoffed, shaking my head. "I said I used to like him, not that I still do. And besides, I found out he's a cheater."

I paused, swallowing down the sudden wave of emotion rising in my throat. Or he will be. But honestly, who cares about timing anymore?

The stranger, 'Steal,' as he had introduced himself, let out a low whistle. "So you're just going to ghost him then?"

"He's not my boyfriend, or my fiancé. Just an Alpha I thought I wanted... but now? Let's just say he has a god complex that's a little hard to overlook."

“Must be hard,” he said with mock sympathy, “rejecting a perfect Alpha.”

“Not if he's the wrong Alpha,” I replied, the bitterness sharper than I'd intended.

“So, you rejected him?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” I said, setting my glass down with a thud. “I ran away.”

"You ran away?" he said, his voice low, smooth, with just a tiny hint of drunkenness, and I could feel my thoughts getting fuzzier by the minute as well.

I nodded, a crooked smirk pulling at my lips. “Yeah, don't give a damn anymore. He can go off and..... marry my sister, for all I care. He's awful in bed anyways.” I froze, suddenly realizing what I'd just revealed to this stranger.

But then he started chuckling, a loud, deep, rumbling sound that made the tension melt from my shoulders. "That bad, huh?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Don't even ask," I snorted, the laughter bubbling up before I could stop it. "Worst experience of my life. Then suddenly, my hand slipped, and my drink spilled over his pristine white shirt. I gasped, flustered, reaching out in a frantic attempt to dab at the stain. “Oh god, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—”

He stood, steady as a rock as I tried to wipe the fabric. But in my flustered, awkward state, I somehow managed to stumble, my foot catching on the edge of the stool. Before I knew it, I was falling-until his arms closed around me, strong and unyielding, holding me up.

That's when I realized we were situated in the corner of the bar table and a wall was right beside us.

My back hit the wall, and I found myself pinned between it and the hard planes of his body.

The dim light surrounding us creating a heady atmosphere. His scent washed over me, that intoxicating mix of smoke and something woodsy. It clouded my senses, pulling me in, grounding me in a weird way and making me shudder.

Without thinking, I reached up, my fingers curling into his shirt, wanting him closer. I didn't even have time to catch my breath before his lips found mine, stealing away what little resolve I had left.

The kiss was rough, hungry, as though he was as desperate to forget something as I was. I lost myself in it, the world spinning until there was only him, only the burning heat between us.

He pulled back slightly, his breath warm against my lips, his voice low and thick with promise. "Maybe I can wash away all those bad experiences for you. Make you forget this guy........”

The words came out like an offer, and I could sense the double meaning, the hint that he'd done this before, and for others. Somehow, that made it easier to say yes.

"Forget him?” I murmured, my voice breathy, my thoughts spinning in a haze of whiskey and anticipation. “I can do that."

His smirk widened as he pulled me toward the exit, his arm a steady anchor.

We barely reached the suite before his hands were on me again, his touch rough yet measured.

In seconds, my dress and underwear was on the floor, his lips trailing heat across my skin as he leaned over me, his fingers slipping lower.

He pushed me onto the bed and I fell back. But before I could do anything he was climbing on top and pinning me down.

I gasped as he pressed a kiss to my throat, his fingers reaching my wet clit and teasing with slow precision, each movement building a tension within me that bordered on exquisite pleasure.

My body responded instinctively, an almost unfamiliar but intoxicating sensation pooling deep within. His hand slid between my thighs, his fingers easing inside me, and a sharp ache made me inhale sharply.

My fingers curled into his hair, and he let out a soft, almost possessive growl as he worked with a steady rhythm, his gaze fixed on mine, both tender and hungry.

I barely managed to breathe, lost in the intensity of his touch, my pulse racing as he tilted his fingers just so, sending a surge of pleasure that made my back arch against him.

Heat pooled inside me, foreign and exhilarating, his thumb brushing my most sensitive spot with a pressure that made my toes curl.

Everything was dizzying, intoxicating, and right before I felt my orgasm hit, he suddenly froze.

Steal's fingers stilled, his gaze darkening, and he looked down at his fingers inside me, in dawning realization.

His blue eyes flickered, a sharp, molten gold searing through his gaze as his hand withdrew gently, his breath coming in rougher than before. My body still trembled, unable to stop or pull away.

“You're a fucking virgin?!” he growled, his voice tinged with anger, frustration, and something else—something that sent a new kind of thrill down my spine.