Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
“Uhhhh, sir?”
Something in my hand pops.
I look down, realizing I’ve snapped an eating prong in half. And my subordinates are staring at me like I’ve grown a second head to match my two cocks.
Morfu’s ballocks.
The lieutenant across from me blinks at the carnage I’ve inflicted on my dinnerware. I drop the metal scraps onto the table, unable to look away from the object of my fixation.
Or objects.
On the dais, Zolkan selects the best pieces of tonight’s roast from his platter, arranging them on Sofi’s. A curious blend of satisfaction and envy burns bright in my stomach. The single thought I have not been able to shake all day plays once more.
She’s his mate.
Sofi is Zolkan’s mate.
I saw it firsthand. Mere breaths from my own face.
The Zortaire’s dark eyes, gilded by an unmistakable ring of white light.
I’ve reexamined the memory half a million times, by now. Spent the entire night tossing and turning, mulling the moment over.
She is his mate.
She has no idea.
But I think Zolkan knows.
He must, right? Every Roktusian legend assures alphas that they will identify their mate’s scent the second they catch it.
Which is why I’ve been despairing from the moment I sensed Sofi’s, knowing in my soul that it is the closest any being’s could ever be to perfection…
yet also knowing it does not ignite my mate instinct.
It triggered Zolkan’s, though. The more I reflect on his early reactions to her—and how he insisted on staying away—the more sure I am.
He knows. He’s known all along.
But why would he hide it? And why is he avoiding any sort of true claim over her? Limiting their time together, withholding his seed and the full might of his scent, refusing to plan a Presentation, let alone a bonding…
I cannot understand. A mate for our Zortaire is Stelaris-sent salvation. For Khanos. For our people. For him.
How could he ignore that? Why would he want to?
As I stare, Sofi pokes her prong at a new food.
The roasted gray-blue root vegetables, I think.
Zolkan speaks to her, and she clearly tries to tamp down a smile, finally stabbing the piece and bringing it to her curved lips.
Zolkan is utterly rapt, watching her chew as if her reaction will reveal the secrets of the universe.
I’ve never seen that look on his face. Is it the same one I wear when she rolls her big blue eyes at me? Did I have it on this last night as she wrapped her little fists around my horns and let me bury my cock in her cunt?
I must have been just as starstruck. How could any male not be?
If there’s even a chance I’m right, I don’t understand why Zolkan is hesitating.
Is it really just the Presentation? Sure, it is not ideal… but less than two spans ago, Sofi was hiding in her chamber day and night. Now, here she sits, breasts on brazen display, dining in our Dome. Eating our food, learning our customs.
Not to mention: when given the chance, she wrestles me as ruthlessly as any Roktusian alpha.
She is fearless, our little omega. I’m guessing the Presentation ritual alphas use to claim their mates would be no exception.
Envy and lust burn a scalding path through my center, imagining Sofi displayed in that way. My wings twitch along with my knots, both cocks shifting under my kilt.
I would have to sit there and watch, I realize. Front and center.
Fucking hells. I have to distract myself. Now. Before I do something truly insane, like stealing her here in front of everyone. Or laying down my signet to challenge Zolkan.
Casting my eyes away, I scan the room. None of the pretty females or impressive males hold my attention, though.
None but Cylus.
Not because he’s particularly striking. Actually, I’ve always thought him a bit of a snobby slob—and he’s always thought I was a pretty boy with a sadistic streak.
But tonight? I scent our omega on him from across the Dome.
Fuck me through all seven hells.
I try to summon the same feral jealousy I feel when I look at Zolkan, but I only get a thread of curiosity. Did she go into a surge? Did he trip and fall into her glorious cunt?
Or perhaps they simply couldn’t stay away from each other. I have no room to condemn him, on that score. Gods know, I still smell of her tart sweetness, too.
He’s clearly trying to conceal whatever happened. Sitting by himself at the end of the very back table, wearing more clothing than usual, hunched over—
Are those books?
Roktusians haven’t used leather-bound pages in nearly six centuries. Not since the Galactic Council gave us the tekk to digitalize all of our stuff—and save a bunch of forests in the process.
The fuck did this male even find those dusty old things? And why would he want them?
Behind his speks, Cylus’s dark blue eyes crease. He presses his fingertips to his forehead, closing his eyes as he inhales.
Sucking down Sofi’s scent.
I jerk my head in the other direction, fighting the sudden, violent urge to tackle him. Focusing my attention back on the dais.
Is this one of Morfu’s hells?
As Sofi rubs her dainty hand over Zolkan’s forearm, I think it must be. The flames in my middle climb higher and hotter, engulfing my lungs. Lining every exhale with a growl.
Familiar rage roils in my stomachs. The unfairness blistering me anew.
My entire life, I’ve yearned for a mate. I’ve been vocal about it, despite all the shit others gave me.
I didn’t care. I devoted myself to our goddess, branded my body with her prayers. Begged her for someone to complete my soul—a matching spirit to stand by my side.
But, no.
Zolkan has a mate. The most perfect mate any male could ever find.
And he isn’t even going to claim her.
It’s fucking wrong. Blasphemy. The worst kind of ungratefulness, squandering this omega’s beauty and bravery. Squandering Sofi.
Fuck. There’s no other option.
Zazt, Zolkan, and I made a vow once. Promising never to do this.
But I must.
Because of her.
For her.
I rise from my seat, bristling with the sort of deadly intent that has my subordinates falling silent. All eyes widen as I stretch to my full height, rolling my shoulders and wings back. Stalking toward the high table.
The Dome seems frozen by the time I stop in front of our Zortaire. He goes still, his musk burning dark and bitter.
Waiting.
Knowing.
I ignore him. I ignore my sister. I ignore our clanspeople and advisors.
Staring right into Sofi.
Her opal depths glimmer. Brown brows drawn in confusion. Lips parted.
So fucking gorgeous.
So very worth it.
I slide the ring off my right hand and slap it onto the table.
“I challenge the Zortaire,” I announce, the words echoing back at me. “For his omega.”