Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 154: Dream

Chapter 154: Dream

Noelle flipped through the pages of the old, slightly faded book with mild disinterest. His eyes skimmed over the contents—Alpha and Omega bonds, mating marks, heat cycles, and ruts. It was all basic information, with a roll of his eyes, he suppressed a yawn. None of it intrigued him. Not anymore.

Leaning back, he idly ran his fingers over the worn edges of the page, his gaze catching on the word mating mark. The idea made his heart beat faster, despite his earlier boredom. A mating mark. The thought thrilled and unsettled him, bringing a rush of longing he couldn’t quite stifle. He imagined what it would feel like to bear Thorne’s mark, a permanent, undeniable sign of belonging. Even if something ever happened to Thorne—a thought that sent a cold shiver through him—Noelle knew he could never be with anyone else. The idea was unthinkable. Impossible.

His love for Thorne was a brand burned deep into his soul. A wry smile curved his lips, followed by a short, humorless laugh. Even if he died, he mused darkly, he’d find a way to claw his way up from the depths of hell to reclaim Thorne. Because Thorne was his Alpha, and that bond didn’t end. Not in this life or any other.No one is taking his spot dead or not.

The intensity of the thought startled him, and Noelle found himself pressing a hand to his mouth, as if to contain the raw, vulnerable truth of it. The admission left him feeling exposed, but it was undeniable.Anyway Noelle never deluded himself into thinking he was a nice person.

He sighed and turned another page, about to close the book out of sheer boredom when something new caught his eye: True Mates. The title was bold, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine interest surfaced. He leaned forward. True mates. It was a concept he’d never taken seriously, always dismissing it as a romanticized myth. The book claimed that true mates were more fairy tale than fact, a love story told to make the harsh realities of their world seem a little more Though deep, deep down he did believe in it.

Noelle’s lips twitched in a humorless smile. True mates. And yet, he couldn’t shake the conviction he held in his heart. Thorne is my true mate, he thought, the certainty deep and unshakable. He’d always had a habit of holding on to the things his heart whispered to him, even when logic begged him to let go.

His fingers traced down the page, settling on the list of signs that indicated a true mate bond. The first one made him pause: A very particular scent. It wasn’t just the usual musky or sweet aroma of pheromones that Alphas and Omegas naturally recognized. A true mate’s scent was distinct, unmistakable, meant only for the other. Noelle closed his eyes and let himself recall Thorne’s scent: earthy and grounding, like the fresh pine of a forest mingled with the crispness of mountain air and the wild freedom of a breeze along a cliffside. It was a scent that wrapped around him, comforting and eternal. It felt like home.

The second sign was illogical, immense affection, and a tender smile softened Noelle’s features. His mind drifted to the day he found Thorne, a broken man on the edge of death in a lonely, forgotten cottage. By all logic, he should have left, saved himself from the burden of Thorne’s brokenness. But something unexplainable had kept him there, a pull that felt as ancient and inevitable as the tides. He had looked at Thorne and known, this man is mine. He stayed not because it was sensible, but because his heart demanded it. Maybe it was foolish, the product of dreams and fairy tales his mother had told him as a child. Maybe it was simply his need for connection after losing her, the desire to finally have someone to call his own.

Noelle frowned at the third symptom: uncontrollable attraction. He almost laughed. Attraction between Alphas and Omegas was common, even mundane, a product of their biology. Yet with Thorne, it was different. The fire that sparked between them felt raw, consuming, and undeniable, deeper than the superficial pull of pheromones.

His gaze grew somber as he read on. The book claimed that a true mate bond filled a person’s soul, leaving them feeling empty when apart. Instinctively, his fingers drifted to his chest, where the ache of longing pulsed like an unhealed wound. Maybe it was foolish, maybe it was simply the pain of missing Thorne more than he cared to admit. But the gaping hole in his heart felt real, far too real.

A soft giggle pulled Noelle from his spiraling thoughts. He looked up to see Mimi crawling toward him, her eyes bright and innocent, her laughter like a melody that lightened the air around them. Noelle’s expression softened, and he set the book aside. His heart still ached for Thorne, and he still dreamed of things he couldn’t quite have, but right now, what mattered was his daughter. Mimi was his anchor, his light, the joy he fought for every day. With a gentle smile, he gathered her in his arms, letting her sweet laughter drive away the lingering shadows.

***

I wake up in a cold sweat, my body trembling with a restless energy that refuses to be quieted. My heart pounds in my chest, too loud, too fast. Sleep offers no relief anymore. I drag myself out of bed, my muscles stiff, as though my own body is fighting against the idea of rest. I rub my eyes, trying to push away the haze, but the exhaustion lingers, stubborn and unyielding.

I stretch, but it does little to ease the tension coiled inside me. My feet carry me across the room almost instinctively, towards the fancy wooden table by the window. I reach for the journal, its worn leather cover cracking in places, the edges frayed from years of use. It feels like it holds more than just ink on paper. It holds memories—Noelle’s memories—and somehow, just holding it, running my fingers over the ink, feels like I’m reaching out to him.

I pause, my fingers lingering on the pages. The writing is neat, precise, but there’s a tenderness in the way he describes the plants—his words so full of care, like each leaf, each root, was as important as the person who tended to it. I can’t help but smile bitterly at how deeply I’ve come to miss him. The scent of earth, the soft murmur of his voice, the way his eyes seemed to always see through me.

Sometimes, I find myself imagining what it would be like to have something tangible of him with me. A picture, maybe, tucked into a locket, something I could hold close to my heart. If I had that, I think, I wouldn’t feel so lost. I wouldn’t feel like I’ve somehow conjured him from the depths of my mind, that maybe he was never real at all. The thought haunts me more than I care to admit.

I clutch the journal tighter, staring at the ink-stained pages as though they could anchor me to the truth. But even with it in my hands, I doubt. I look at the eyes of those around me, their questioning gazes, their unspoken disbelief, and I wonder if maybe they’re right. Maybe I’ve been holding onto a memory that was never truly mine. But then I grip the cane in my other hand, the one I’ve kept since I lost him, and I remember.

Noelle was real. I know he was real. This journal, this cane, this ache in my chest—it’s all proof that he existed, that he was here with me, even if it feels like he’s slipped away into a dream.

I will find him. I will search for him, wherever he is, for as long as it takes. No matter how long it takes. He is the other half of my soul, and I will not stop until I can hold him again.