Chapter 6 Oros
CHAPTER SIX
OROS
“Your daughter is ashamed of her wolf?” I ask, repeating what Keegan just told me.
He also explained that she’s a dragon-wolf hybrid but can only shift into her wolf half. And apparently, that upsets her.
“Taliana grew up in Obsidian Sector,” he says by way of explanation. “They favor dragon genetics there. Everyone else is shunned.”
“Then perhaps they should consider focusing on dragon procreation and cease all their hybrid experimentation,” I say as I collapse into the chair seated across from him.
Surprise flickers across his oval-shaped face.
“Oh, don’t give me that look,” I tell him. “Of course I know what’s happening in Obsidian Sector. Fuck, most of Drakon-Clan kind is aware that they’re trying to create superior species. It’s not the secret they think it is.”
His features return to a state of uncertainty, his guarded expression causing his square jaw to flex.
“Why were you in Obsidian Sector?” I wonder aloud. “Do you approve of their breeding program?” If he says yes, I’ll escort him right off my island.
And I’ll keep his daughter as payment for wasting my time.
Keegan leans forward to refill his glass with some fire ale, the bottle one I had delivered after he bluntly said, “Taliana anticipates the worst in Alpha kind because that’s all she’s ever known.”
That was his response to my question about why his daughter thought I intended to rape her with my knot.
It was the exhaustion in his voice that had me calling for the drink. He clearly needed it.
But now I’m wondering why the fuck he was in Obsidian Sector in the first place.
He takes a long drink before setting the crystal glass down. “I went there for an Omega.”
My eyebrow cocks upward. “You like them obedient and slave-like, then?”
His dragon growls deep, causing mine to stir in warning. “No. Fuck, I’m not a monster. If I were, I wouldn’t be here trying to ensure that my daughter makes a decent match.”
“You brought her here to make any match,” I remind him. “There’s no guarantee it’ll be decent.”
He gives me a long look, his irises flaring with a blend of black, silver, and white. “You’ve heard things about Obsidian Sector, and I’ve heard things about Gold Sector.”
“That we like trading for Omegas, yes?”
“That you care for Omegas,” he corrects me. “Riordan is an old friend.”
My gaze narrows. “Then why didn’t you take your daughter to him?”
“Because he suggested I come here instead. And…” He blows out a breath and palms the back of his neck. “I need gold.”
“So you want to sell your daughter,” I translate, disgusted by the concept.
“No, I want her protected. I’ll work for the gold.” His hand falls from his neck to the arm of the charcoal-coated chair. “Taliana’s safety is my priority. But I’m hoping, in time, I can visit and maybe work.”
I study him. “Doing what?”
“I’m skilled at raiding,” he tells me quietly. “I also know the Southern European nomad lands well, and I can suggest some camps you might be interested in raiding, too.”
“I see.” I fold my arms across my chest, ignoring the drinks on the small table between us. “So you went to Obsidian Sector for an Omega. Did you not know about their penchant for experimentation?”
“Oh, I had heard the rumors. I just didn’t realize how true they were.” He grabs his drink again and downs it, a haunted shadow overtaking his features.
He doesn’t look a day older than me, our immortal genetics freezing our features around thirty years of age, sometimes younger. Yet his eyes hold a world of experience that somehow makes him appear decades older.
This male has lived through hell. It shows in the frown lines etched into his forehead. I wonder if he’s ever truly smiled.
“I grew up with Riordan in Jasper Sector. We were lieutenants together for decades before the Infection, then led different camps in the new era. I specialized in raiding. He specialized in defense.”
“Again leading me to wonder why you came to me and not him,” I drawl.
“I’m getting there,” he tells me, his words impatient, yet his tone is interestingly respectful. “On a raid just over twenty years ago, I found an injured Omega lying in a nest.”
His eyes close like he’s picturing her now, his throat working to swallow.
“Her scent was unlike any other I’d ever sensed. I was instantly drawn to her. And she seemed to feel the same for me.” His eyes open again, but rather than look at me, he focuses on the sea outside the window.
It’s probably a good thing, as it gives me time to mask my reaction to what he just said. Because I understood that part a little too well, given my recent reaction to his daughter.
A sensation of unease stirs inside me, one that worsens as he continues.
“She went into heat and asked me to knot her. Naturally, I did. And I claimed her, too. I thought she was my mate. Just as I thought she felt the same way.”
Yeah, that pit of unease is definitely worsening.
“She didn’t,” he goes on. “Or maybe she did. I don’t know.
But she left for Obsidian Sector, and I followed her.
I thought I could convince her to return to Jasper Sector.
However, her brainwashing became apparent quickly, and I was left with a choice—leave my chosen mate and our child, or try to fight for them. ”
He finally looks at me again. “You tried to fight.”
“No. The moment I arrived in Obsidian Sector with her, I knew a fight would end in my death. So I opted for a third plan—to defect to Obsidian Sector, play their game, and quietly try to convince Helena to run away with me.”
Despite everything, I find myself leaning forward. “And?”
“And that’s when it became clear that Helena would never mate me.” He pauses to refill his glass again.
Using a tablet on the table, I call for another bottle of ale, as well as some food, and wait for him to go on.
“Her scent was manufactured to attract the strongest compatible mate. She was put in that nest to lure me and trap me. And I wasn’t the first, nor was I the last.”
My jaw clenches. “Did your daughter inherit this trait?”
He stares at me. “You tell me. Is her scent alluring, Your Majesty?”
I don’t answer him.
He nods. “Then I suppose it is.” He sounds sad, not pleased. His scent doesn’t smell sour, either, suggesting he’s being truthful.
But I’ve met expert liars before.
And I don’t trust this Drakon.
Not yet.
“How long did you stay in Obsidian Sector?”
“For seventeen years,” he replies. “I traded my raiding expertise for the privilege of raising my daughter. It was that or let her grow up in a lab. But I knew they would come for her eventually. So I used my connections on the raids to gather as many suppressants as I could, then I made a decision no Alpha should ever have to make.”
That haunted shadow ghosts across his features once more.
“I chose my daughter’s fate over my mate.” His jaw flexes, his hand clenching into a fist against the table. “I don’t regret it. Taliana is an innocent in all this. And I kept her safe for as long as I could. But it’s time. She needs a safe haven.”
His gaze meets mine, a hint of a plea lurking in the multicolored depths.
“Please don’t punish my daughter for things she can’t control. If she smells alluring to you, it’s because you’re an ideal mate. She doesn’t even know she possesses that talent. She also grew up hiding her wolf because she had to.”
My teeth grind together at the thought.
No one should be ashamed of their beast.
We’re shifters. Some more superior than others in terms of the food chain and magical abilities. But our animals are our spirits.
To suppress one’s soul…
I nearly shake my head. I don’t even want to think about the pain I would experience trying to hide my dragon.
“I hope what Riordan told me about Gold Sector is true,” Keegan says. “I also hope that you’ll accept my daughter for who she is. But if you can’t do that, if you’re going to punish her for a fate she never had a say in, then tell me now so I can take her away.”
Possessive energy swirls around him, his dragon staring right at me through his eyes.
Well, one thing is very clear. This Alpha cares deeply about his daughter.
He may desire a payment for his trade, but I believe him when he says he wants a safe match for his daughter.
The other items will either be proved or disproved with Taliana’s exam.
“I’ll be in touch,” I tell him, standing just as someone knocks on the door. “Enjoy your dinner. I ordered some of my favorite dishes for you.”
It’s not a lie.
He may not be an ally. But he’s not an enemy yet, either.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” Keegan says. “I appreciate the honor of your time, Your Majesty.”
I dip my chin in acknowledgment.
Then ash upstairs to my office, hoping that maybe Onyx is still talking to Riordan.
Because I have some questions.
And I want to know more about that enchanting scent, I think. Riordan is the expert on all things Obsidian Sector. I’ve never questioned why that is.
But now I’m wondering if that expertise came from having a Drakon on the inside.
A Drakon named Keegan…