My Alpha Called Me Omega Until the Lycan Claimed Me

The perfume made my skin crawl.

I stood outside the Alpha's bedroom door, my fingers trembling as they hovered over the polished wood. Inside, I could hear him—low growls that vibrated through the walls, the crash of something heavy hitting the floor. My wolf should have stirred at the sound of an Alpha in distress. Should have whimpered or pressed against my consciousness, urging me to help.

But I had no wolf. Just silence where there should have been another voice.

"Miss Bishop." The pack healer, Dr. Ramos, appeared beside me with a crystal bottle. The liquid inside gleamed amber in the hallway's dim light. "You'll need to reapply. He's worse tonight."

I took the bottle, my stomach turning at the cloying floral scent that escaped when I uncapped it. Jasmine. Rose. Something sweet and artificial that made my eyes water. Bella's signature perfume, recreated by the pack's chemist from old belongings she'd left behind.

Bella Powell. Xander's true mate. Dead for three years.

Except I was the one wearing her scent now.

"How much longer?" I whispered, dabbing the perfume onto my wrists, my throat, behind my ears. The same places Xander would bury his face during these episodes.

"Until dawn, if you're lucky." Dr. Ramos's expression was carefully neutral. He'd never approved of this arrangement, but he wasn't about to challenge an Alpha's decision. "The full moon always hits him hardest."

Another crash from inside. A roar that made the door rattle.

I closed my eyes, thought of Cal in the infirmary three floors down. Cal with his pale face and hollow eyes, hooked up to machines that beeped steadily through the night. Cal, who was dying because I couldn't afford the elite Healers who might actually save him.

This was the price. Three years of my dignity for three years of treatment.

I pushed open the door.

The Alpha's suite was chaos. Shattered glass glittered across the marble floor. Deep claw marks gouged the walls. And in the center of it all stood Xander Blackwood, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing that terrible gold that meant his wolf was too close to the surface.

He was magnificent and terrifying—all raw power barely contained in human skin. His shirt hung in tatters. Muscles coiled tight beneath tanned skin. When his gaze locked onto me, something primal shot through my chest. A pull I didn't understand. A yearning that made no sense.

I was nothing to him. Just a tool.

"Alpha." I kept my voice soft, submissive. Stepped carefully over the broken glass. "I'm here."

He moved so fast I barely saw it. One moment he was across the room, the next he had me pinned to the bed, his weight pressing me into silk sheets that cost more than everything I owned. His face buried in the curve of my neck, inhaling deeply.

"Bella," he breathed against my skin. "Bella, Bella, Bella."

Each repetition was a knife between my ribs.

His body shuddered, the tremors gradually slowing as the perfume did its work. His breathing evened out. The gold faded from his eyes, replaced by their usual cold gray. But he didn't move. Didn't release me.

I lay perfectly still beneath him, blinking back tears that I had no right to shed. This was the contract. This was what I'd agreed to. Let him use me as a living memory of his dead mate. Let him pretend my body was hers.

Somewhere deep in my chest, something ached. Something that felt like longing. Like recognition.

I shoved it down. Buried it deep.

By the time dawn light crept through the curtains, Xander was asleep, his face peaceful in a way it never was when he was awake. I extracted myself carefully, my muscles stiff from staying motionless for hours.

The bathroom mirror showed me what I'd become. Hollow-eyed. Thin. Reeking of flowers that weren't mine.

I scrubbed at my skin until it was raw and red, but the scent lingered. It always did.

When I emerged, Xander was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed fully dressed. His expression was carved from ice.

"Here." He tossed something onto the nightstand without looking at me.

A check. Made out for exactly the amount Dr. Ramos charged for Cal's dialysis.

"Don't mistake what happened last night for anything more than what it was," Xander said, his voice flat. "You're a tool, Norah. A means to an end. My wolf needs Bella's scent to stay stable. You happen to be able to carry it without triggering allergies. That's all."

I picked up the check with shaking fingers. "I understand, Alpha."

"Good." He stood, buttoning his cuffs with precise movements. "The Omega quarters would suit you better, but the council insists you remain nearby during full moon periods. Don't let it go to your head."

He left without another word.

I clutched the check and ran—down the stairs, through hallways where pack members averted their eyes from the Omega who slept in the Alpha's bed. Burst into the infirmary where Cal lay sleeping, his chest rising and falling too slowly.

"I have it," I gasped to the night nurse, thrusting the check at her. "For this month's treatment."

She took it with a pitying look that made my skin burn.

I sank into the chair beside Cal's bed, taking his cold hand in mine. Worth it. This was worth it.

It had to be.

Three days later, the Pack Gathering changed everything.

The great hall blazed with light and music. Wolves from neighboring territories had come to witness what they were calling a miracle—Alpha Xander Blackwood, stable and strong after years of volatile episodes. I stood in the shadows near the kitchen entrance, wearing the simple gray dress required of Omegas during formal events.

Xander stood on the dais, addressing the crowd with the commanding presence that made other Alphas bow their heads. He was talking about pack strength, about unity, about—

The main doors burst open.

Scouts stumbled in, supporting a woman between them. She was thin, ragged, her clothes torn. But even from across the room, I could see her face.

Beautiful. Delicate. Alive.

"Alpha!" the lead scout called out. "We found her in the Rogue camp on the eastern border. She says—"

"Xander," the woman whispered, her voice carrying in the sudden silence.

The glass I'd been holding slipped from my fingers. Shattered on the stone floor.

Because I knew that face. Had seen it in photographs throughout the Alpha's suite. Had heard Xander whisper that name against my skin.

Bella Powell.

Xander's true mate.

Back from the dead.