Mr.Suthilak's Omega

3.Kongpob Suthiluck

Mr. Suthilak faced the window, his bare, muscled tan back a study in controlled tension. He nodded to his servants, who, trained to anticipate his every whim, arranged his bath and clothes with practiced efficiency. Understanding their cue, they melted out of the room, leaving him alone with the rising sun.

He gripped the windowsill, knuckles white. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, but he didn't see them. He saw only Arthit. His eyes burned, a hot, treacherous liquid welling as his fist tightened, a futile attempt to contain the storm raging within. "Seven years is a long time," he whispered to the reflecting sunrays, the words laced with a bitterness that clung to the air.

"Yet you, Arthit Rojnapat, I did not see any slightest change in the way you speak." He muttered Arthit's name in a smooth, almost reverent tone, a caress of sound that belied the fury churning inside. It was the way a possessive lover might speak, a way that claimed every right of the alphabet to pronounce the omega's name. “I thought you would come to me, humbled, to apologize for putting distance between us, and then, perhaps, agree to the marriage. But then, I found you were only interested in this merger, in this union, with a purpose.” He inhaled sharply, the air catching in his throat like a jagged shard of glass.

His lean, long, strong, slender fingers clawed at the glass. On his bare chest, branded onto the skin just above his heart, was a tattoo – ‘Oon’ – etched in bold, defiant script. His chest heaved, the tattooed name moving up and down in rhythm with the hate that filled every inch of his lungs.

For seven years, his fingers had traced the burning outline of that tattoo, sometimes with tenderness, as if he were caressing the imagined curves of Arthit. Other times, like now, with a brutal, self-inflicted rage. He could not escape the image of his omega standing before him, head held high, defiance radiating from his every pore.

"A political marriage," Arthit had said, his voice cool and devoid of any affection. "The Rojnapat family’s survival depends on it. And I will do whatever it takes."

The words, spoken with such calculated indifference, had been like a slap in the face, a brutal awakening. Mr. Suthilak had envisioned a love story, a triumphant reunion after years of separation and simmering resentment. He had dreamt of Arthit finally yielding to the undeniable pull between them. Instead, he was faced with a cold, calculating politician willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of his family.

He stared at the sun, the hot liquid shimmering in his red rimmed eyes, blurring his vision. He gripped his nails on the tattooed chest, digging them deep into the skin, drawing blood. The pain, sharp and stinging, was a welcome distraction, a physical manifestation of the burning contempt consuming him. The pricing of nails into the skin hurting himself with blood boiling in contempt

"I hate you!" he muttered in a raucous voice, his shaky breath rattling in his chest. His lean abs and rib cage moved up and down, emphasizing the raw, exposed vulnerability of his back muscles.

'Oon'_The sun, once a symbol of hope, now felt like a mocking reminder of the warmth he craved, the love he was denied. Seven years. Seven years of longing, of suppressed desire, culminating in this bitter, hollow charade. Mr. Suthilak was trapped, a wealthy, powerful alpha brought to his knees by the omega whose name was etched forever on his skin. And he hated Arthit all the more for it.

It was early in the morning Mr.Suthilak's Home is more noisy than ever before "I won't accept a Rojnapat to be Suthilak's Son-in-law!" Ria's voice echoed through the grand hallway, where Jack stood on the plush carpet, his face etched with distress.