Omegas are sweet, soft, and submissive... said anyone who's NEVER met Enjin.

Whatever parts of him weren't muscle, tattooed, or badass were pure attitude. He was confident and could back it up, one of the Cleaners' best givers. Even when he was acting nonchalant, it felt like he was showing off that nothing phased him.

Now give him a mate.

Humble? He's never heard of the word. Everyone knows, there's no way they couldn't with how he was glued to your side. When he wasn't, he'd talk about you. And he wasn't possessive or jealous; there had to be competition for that. He just liked being annoying about the absolute catch he has.

Were you spared? HA! Nah, you got double the fun, especially if you had to be away. Cause he needed to mark you.

Enjin didn't even give you a warning. No "hold still" or "c'mere". He rubbed the sweat off his face and smeared it on your clothes. Knowing Enjin's scent, it would stick like cigarette smoke. You'd be lucky to get it off after the fifth wash.

His ass wasn't even sorry. "Ight you're good to go now," His grin stretched ear to ear as he walked away with long exaggerated strides. Even if he didn't regret it, he didn't want to get his shit rocked for this.