As an omega growing up, I read countless stories of romances—more than I cared to admit, the paperbacks hidden away under my bed and kept secret from judgemental eyes, mostly my mother. When I was with Zain, I thought that he was it, my soulmate, but he never made me feel the butterflies Aiden did, the nervous hitch in my breath and the flush down my chest whenever he was around.

Some nights I did dreams of the scenarios from the endless cliche book I consumed, one where my mate and ...