by Leta Blake
Xan’s throat tightened and he bit out, “And you, my omega.”
The hallway was long and his room was on the opposite end of it. The house was, aside for a few rooms Caleb had claimed as his own, decorated to Xan’s ornate taste. And the hallway was no exception. Mirrors lined the walls, giving his usually vain appetite a constant view of himself. But tonight he kept his eyes on the soft, red carpet that rolled out down the wooden floor. He didn’t need to see himself all black and blue and red. The consequences of indulging in his dark addiction were never something Xan reveled in.
He passed the wide stairwell down to the first floor and continued past the closed doors of other bedrooms, unclaimed, and, as of now, mostly undecorated, save for two rooms designated for guests.
The house itself was larger than they needed, but Xan still had some futile hope of filling the many rooms between his and Caleb’s with children—somehow, some way. If he could solve his problem with performance during heat…and if his sperm would behave and knock up Caleb sooner rather than later, he’d like to begin with that dream immediately.
It was his duty, after all, to carry on the Heelies name and to provide a family for Caleb to love. Caleb desperately wanted to be a pater and Xan had promised him he would be.
Wolf-god, he’d promised Caleb so many things.
Xan sighed, opening the door to his warm room before closing it carefully behind him. The wide bed stood between four wooden posters and beneath a red canopy. The fire burned in the grate, just as he’d known it would, and the sheets had been turned back welcomingly.
He slipped off his robe and pajama pants and threw them over the velvet chair in the corner. He dug his toes into the long, pearl gray shag of the rug he’d purchased in Rapersten during a business trip a year ago. He’d been only the figurehead, of course, there to smile, shake hands, and sign the contracts his brother Ray had negotiated with the rug dealers there. But he’d selected this rug himself from the piles and piles in the warehouse he’d visited.
Carefully, he lowered himself to his bed and stared up at the flat, red expanse of cloth over him. His thoughts raced hard against the lingering pain, like wild horses storming through his mind. He’d brought all of this on himself, he knew that, and didn’t deserve forgiveness for it. But what had he done to deserve this craving? Was he born evil? Had he done something so horrible in a past life that wolf-god saw fit to punish him even now in this one?
A little over a year ago, he’d been hopeful that his abnormal lusts were something he could put behind him. He’d contracted with Caleb and they’d agreed to live a celibate life, except when heats came on. This fit Caleb’s needs perfectly and his own better than any other omega match could have done.
He’d thought their partnership was going to be his salvation. They’d make the family his father and pater required, and he’d continue as the figurehead while his brilliant beta brother ran the family business. He’d find peace with what he was allowed.
Xan had been entirely confident the plan would work. He’d learned in school that during heat, an omega’s pheromones drove an alpha to instinctive arousal and lust. He’d been sure there could be no problem on his end when exposed to the scents of Caleb in heat. He was an alpha after all. He’d been so certain that he’d outright promised Caleb that he’d never suffer even a moment of pain when the time came.
Oh, how hilariously presumptuous that all seemed now.
It was right that his body was hurt so badly that the helpless, hateful laugh these thoughts brought up left him gasping in pain with hot tears burning his eyes. The only thing that’d gone right in that pitiful plan was choosing Caleb, who was more understanding than Xan had any right to expect.
Xan didn’t plan to ever forgive himself for all the ways his plan had fallen apart. Caleb, though, was always ready to forgive and forget, to move ahead and forge a new strategy together, tugging Xan along with him when he balked from shame. Caleb had gone all in with him, ready to ride the storms of their life until the bitter end. He was a ridiculously good man, and Xan didn’t deserve him. Not even a little.
Of course, Caleb didn’t agree with him. Instead, Caleb called himself equally flawed, and always said they were a perfect match. Even after a night like this.
An owl screeched outside his window, piercing his veil of wretched self-pity. He reached for the tub of liniment and discarded his underwear. Leaning back on the bed, he spread his sore legs wide and reached down to test his swollen, bleeding entrance.
He was always too ashamed to let Caleb tend to this wound.
With tears standing in his eyes, he scooped out two fingerfuls of liniment and pressed them into himself, whimpering as the pain flared. Then, fingers still inside, he rolled onto his side, sobs wracking his body. The arnica soothed even as his fingers opened up the wounds.
He loathed that he was incapable of turning his back on the darkness for long. Why couldn’t he just stay away and stay celibate, like Caleb? When they’d made their solemn contract together, he hadn’t thought it would be so hard, or that he could possibly be so very depraved.
In the dry heat of his bedroom, curled up in his soft bed, his asshole throbbing with his heartbeat, Xan cried himself to sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
Urho sat stubbornly in the well-appointed drawing room to the right of the fashionable entryway. It wasn’t a room he’d been in before during the few parties Xan and Caleb had thrown over the last year since they contracted together. The furniture didn’t seem to Xan’s taste. It was simple and classic, lacking in the elegant yet quirky self-awareness that Xan’s clothing and furnishings always revealed. Perhaps this room was Caleb’s doing? If so, the omega had timeless sensibilities.
Mid-morning sunlight filtered in through the soft, white curtains, lending a further sense of calm to the room. On another day, Urho would have enjoyed having tea and relaxing here, but his nerves made the lack of fussy details on which to focus his attention nearly unbearable. He crossed and re-crossed his legs restlessly.
The door to the hallway opened behind him, and Urho rose, still facing the window. He crossed his hands in front of him and lifted his chin, prepared to meet Xan in whatever state he found him this morning. Despite having thought of little else all night, he was suddenly speechless without any idea of where to start. So he closed his eyes, waiting to hear how Xan greeted him first.
“Dr. Chase,” a smooth, soft voice murmured. It was pleasant, a quiet tenor laced with an iron undertone Urho recognized. He’d heard omegas wield that attitude on alphas his whole life.
“Mr. Riggs,” Urhos replied politely, opening his eyes and turning to take in Caleb. He wore loose, casual clothing: white pants and a soft-looking white, short-sleeved shirt that opened in a small V to expose his delicate collarbones. His pale arms hung loosely at his sides, an attempt at appearing calm and collected, but Urho didn’t miss the way Caleb’s breath came quickly or how his pulse pounded at the base of his long throat. Urho said, “I’m here to speak with your alpha this morning.”
“Xan is resting.” Caleb called over his shoulder for tea to be brought before stepping farther into the room. His longer-than-entirely-fashionable blond hair hung to chin-length, but the front was combed back from his face and held in place with a sparkling blue-jeweled barrette. His similarly colored eyes cut through Urho like blades. “He isn’t well.”
Urho’s stomach dropped. “I saw him last night. Does he need medical assistance? I’d like to help.”
Caleb’s right brow went up, but he didn’t say anything for a moment as a beta servant, a mere slip of a boy, brought in the tea service and put it on the table before Urho. It wasn’t what Urho would have expected in Xan’s house either. Instead of a quirky, elaborate, and cutting-edge design, the pot was smooth and white. The cups didn’t have handles and were made of the same fragile but plain ceramic white clay.
After the boy left again, Caleb took a seat opposite Urho in a simple cream-colored, tall-backed chair wit
h no arm rests. He crossed his legs carefully, and Urho noticed for the first time that Caleb was barefoot and each of his toenails was painted with some shiny, glittery substance that caught the morning light.
“Let’s cut out the formalities, what do you say?” Caleb looked up at Urho through his lashes in a way that could only be called coy. A very omega thing to do when feeling cornered. “We’ve met often enough to use first names.”
“Of course.” He smiled, trying to grasp onto the familiar back and forth of social graces to dispel the discomfort he’d wallowed in since the night before. He settled back onto his chair. “Call me Urho.”
“And you may call me Caleb.” He relaxed back in his seat, but with the same air as Vale’s cat when she watched birds out the study windows: relaxed but focused, poised for attack. “So, how can I help you, Urho?”
Urho attempted to soften his own body into a more soothing position. He didn’t want Caleb to think of him as the enemy here. “As I said, I saw Xan last night. He was injured.”
Caleb’s cheeks flushed, but his eyes didn’t sway from Urho’s gaze. “Yes.”
“If he requires a doctor’s care, I’m discreet and ready to be of service.”
Caleb carefully poured tea for both of them, his long fingers deft and strong, though they trembled slightly. “I’d like that. However, I doubt he’d hold the same opinion.”
“He’s a stubborn ass.”
Caleb’s smile was swift and surprising. Urho hadn’t been granted it many times in their prior meetings. Xan’s omega had always seemed, if not shy, perhaps cautious. Now his smile signaled a potential opening between them. “He is, yes,” Caleb agreed. “Many people don’t understand that about him. But I’m not surprised you do.”
Urho wasn’t sure who in the world could ever be surprised by a stubborn alpha, but Xan typically turned in a convincing performance of a superficial fop with no substance to back up his mouthy opinions. Between that act, Xan’s bow-ties and the tight pants that hugged his ass in ways that made Urho’s eyes linger too long—not to mention his bright, somehow guileless blue eyes—Urho could imagine many serious men might fail to register Xan’s true nature.
In the morning light streaming through the windows, Urho noticed not for the first time that Caleb was slightly older than Xan. Fine lines started at the corners of his handsome eyes. If Urho had to guess, he’d say Caleb was older by at least five years.
It was unusual for an omega to contract with an alpha that much younger without an Erosgapé bond to tie them. Not unheard of, but all the same, it was of interest. Why would he choose Xan over other alphas his own age, men who were perhaps a bit older and more established? Surely there had been offers. Especially for an omega of Caleb’s beauty and obvious intelligence.
“Xan admires you, you know,” Caleb said carefully, like he was dipping a toe into the oean to see how cold the waves might be.
Urho’s heart thumped hard, and he frowned, confused by the abrupt heat blooming in him, making him sweat. “It’s not unusual for a younger alpha to look up to an older alpha,” he said, but his voice sounded tight, and he didn’t know why.
Caleb hummed softly, his gaze shrewd as he took Urho in. Shifting on the soft chair, Urho loosened his tie. The room was suddenly stuffy and he wished Caleb would open a window.
Silence clicked between them for a few stilted moments, but eventually Caleb asked, “What do you plan to do with the information you discovered last night?”
Urho’s pulse seemed to grow very slow and yet very loud before bursting into a gallop. He studied Caleb’s calm expression, searching for some sign that Urho might betray Xan’s trust by discussing this matter honestly with his omega, but he found no innocence there.
Caleb’s challenging gaze told him that whatever happened to Xan last night, whatever the truth of it—rape or alpha expression gone wrong—Caleb was in the know about it all. Urho let out a sigh of relief. “I plan to do nothing other than offer my assistance as a physician.”
Caleb nodded, sipping at his tea, and so Urho did the same. The flavor of orange rinds spiced it nicely and he took another, longer sip. The sound of a door opening and closing somewhere above them caused Caleb’s eyes to flick speculatively toward the ceiling, but then he met Urho’s gaze again, holding his silence.
“So what happened last night?” Urho asked after a long moment where they simply drank tea and studied each other, with the occasional break to stare at the patterns the sun made on the floor. “What he told me makes no sense.”
“He was out of his mind,” Caleb said softly. “I’m not sure what caused him to seek out—” His lips twisted and he bit off the rest of that sentence. “His reasons are his own.”
“He claimed he wasn’t assaulted.”
Caleb’s laugh was bitter. “I suppose it depends on what one calls assault, wouldn’t you agree, doctor?”
“He appeared to have been attacked in the most grievous of ways.”
And Urho had let him drive away alone. He had no excuse for his behavior. He’d been so overwhelmed by the scent of another alpha on Xan’s body, the pheromones of sex and pain layered together. It had roused him deeply and disturbingly. And the iron trace of blood on the air had horrified him in a way that it had no right to horrify a doctor.
He flashed back to Xan’s eyes, normally so lustrous and blue, dark with fear, shadowed with desperation, and wild with pain. Urho shuddered, remembering Xan’s words. “I’m unmanned.”
And the way he’d stated it!
Permanent. Final. Not the temporary ego loss of a man who’s been forced into the submissive position in an unfortunate and disgusting episode of alpha expression. No, there was more to it. A guilty confession. A history.
But there couldn’t be.
Urho wouldn’t believe it. He refused. No alpha would accept being permanently unmanned as a way of life for himself. Especially not an alpha with so much to lose. And Xan, as the heir to a very large fortune, had everything to lose.
“He said he’s…” Urho hated to use the slur.
Being labeled “unmanned” was not only a perversion of nature but it was dangerous. Imprisonment wasn’t even the worst thing that could happen to a man who’d turned his back on the Holy Book of Wolf’s commandments in this damnable way.
Urho squirmed in his chair. “He said he’s…”
“Yes.”
“But he can’t be.”
Caleb’s voice was cool. “And if he is?”
Urho rubbed a hand over his face. “How? He’s an alpha. No alpha would allow such a weakness in themselves.” He stirred restlessly in his chair and lifted his chin, searching for the words that must be true. The words he’d told himself since he’d watched Xan’s taillights disappear the night before. “He fought back. He’s wrong about what happened last night.”
Caleb’s blond lashes blinked rapidly.
“He was assaulted,” Urho went on. “By a man overcome by uncontrollable alpha expression. Perhaps drugs or drink played a role, or some slight to the man’s omega. I don’t know. It was a power play of the most vicious sort, and he fought back. Of course he did.”
Xan was a small alpha; there was no way he could win against a bigger man, and nearly all alphas were bigger than him.
“There was no fight,” Caleb said softly.
“Of course there was a fight. He was injured.” Urho’s stomach churned uneasily.
“He was beaten,” Caleb corrected, his fingers trembling harder as he put his teacup down on the small table between them. “There is a difference.”
Urho stared at Caleb, his stomach roiling. He tried to get a grip on why, exactly, he cared so very much. He’d been a medic in the army and seen terrible things. And he’d recently left his post-military research work at the university behind to pursue a life of service in helping the poor in the Calitan and Delta districts.
He’d seen all sorts of people in his lifetime, depravity of all kinds, and yet somehow what Caleb was imp
lying about Xan seemed more unacceptable than anything he’d witnessed out in the world. The idea that irritating, mouthy, handsome Xan Heelies would truly seek out this kind of treatment was unthinkable.
“He wants this?” Urho whispered, his tongue thick.
“Not this,” Caleb said, shaking his head. “Who would want to be so abused? But…” he trailed off, his gaze going toward the door, and Urho knew who stood there when Caleb’s eyes took on a gentle expression. “Darling, you should be in bed.”
“I have a visitor, apparently,” Xan said stiffly. He stood with one hand on the doorknob and the other in his pocket. He wore fashionable but loose trousers, and a soft gray sweater with a high collar that brought out the white flecks in his blue irises. His left cheek was distorted with a bruise and his eyes were lifeless shadows, nothing like the dancing, laughing pools Urho had first admired when they’d met.
“A stubborn visitor, according to Ren,” Xan went on, mentioning the name of his housekeeper and the beta servant who’d greeted Urho at the door. “Someone who won’t leave until they see me, or so he was told to tell me. And now that someone is upsetting my omega.” He raised his chin, the small dent in the middle looking deeper in the light from the window.
“I’m not upset,” Caleb said, smiling at Xan warmly. “But I do enjoy your protectiveness, dear.”
“You look upset,” Xan reiterated, his eyes hard on Urho.
“I apologize if I’ve overstepped with your omega,” Urho said quickly. Heat prickled him all over as he gazed at Xan. His heart pumped faster, as though he was in the wrong to be here, trying to help this man who was, supposedly, a friend. “He was only being hospitable in your absence.”
Xan raised a brow and said nothing.
Caleb cut the vibrating silence. “If you won’t go back to bed, then I suppose you should come in and take a seat. Have some manners.”
