The scent of an omega in heat.
Nothing else in the world smells like that. An alpha never forgets the first time he experiences it up close and personal. It is intoxicating, devastating, life-changing. The rest of life’s pleasures pale by comparison.
Except, of course, the pleasure of claiming the omega. Fucking her, knotting her, filling her wet cunt to the bursting with hot alpha seed.
The Outsiders who live beyond the wall could never understand it. I have seen the Outsiders. I have been to their crowded and polluted cities. I know what they smell like. They douse themselves in chemicals so they can smell like flowers and sweet food. That’s the kind of thing the Outsiders like. Nice fragrances. Clean fragrances.
The scent of an omega in heat is not nice.
It is not clean.
It is dirty and animalic, like the odor of a nest after a long night of rough, sweaty sex – the kind that leaves marks. It is a scent that grabs an alpha by the balls and squeezes hard until the ache is unbearable and his cock feels like it will literally burst from arousal. It is a scent that sinks its teeth into your consciousness, that rakes your soul with invisible claws.
In short, it is miraculous.
I’ll never forget my first sniff of heat-stricken omega. Oh sure, I had smelled omegas before, and I had even sampled the pleasures of their bodies. But never before had I smelled one who was lost in the throes of estrus. And never before had I smelled one quite like her. Nothing could have prepared me for that scent. The agony and the ecstasy of it. The fire and ice it sent coursing through my veins.
After her, I was a different alpha. I died and was reborn between her slick-stained thighs, just as she died and was reborn upon my aching knot, our two souls intertwined for eternity in a bond far deeper than any attraction of mere flesh and blood. From that moment on, I was her alpha, and she was my omega. My mate.