9. Chapter 9
Tarymn
T arymn hammered the punching bag, each strike sending a jolt up his arms and through his tightly coiled muscles, as if sheer force could pound the aggression out of him.
Beat it into submission. Force himself back under control.
A low growl rumbled in his throat as the alpha inside him paced like a caged animal, testing the walls of his restraint, shoving against it. Demanding release.
He clenched his jaw until it ached, refusing to give in. He hated this, hated that there was a part of him that thrived on chaos, that moved without thought, without reason. And with Ludiin… he’d almost…
Fuck. Why?
He drove himself harder, his fists thudding into the leather until the bag swayed violently, until his arms burned, until sweat poured down his skin in heavy rivulets, until exhaustion finally cut through the haze. Only then did he feel something like himself again.
Letting the bag swing idly, he dropped onto the mat. Flat on his back, he stared up at the ceiling, lungs dragging in air, heart pounding too loud in his ears. He didn’t let his thoughts drift where they wanted to go.
It will never happen again, he told himself, forcing the words to stick in his brain.
Rolling to his feet, he grabbed the drying cloth he’d left on the mat and wiped his face and chest. Hunger gnawed at him, so he padded toward the cooking station. But the moment he opened the door, he stopped short.
Ludiin was there.
The omega looked up from his plate, eyes wide, the faintest hitch in his movements.
Fuck.
The tension Tarymn had been working out slithered right back into the room, coiling around his ribs. Without a word, he moved to the counter, scanning the array of dishes the maids had set out for dinner.
“Where is Luci?” he asked, the silence pressing too thick around them.
“I think he went out.”
So, it was just the two of them. Great, he thought, scooping food onto his plate before sitting down.
Ludiin’s gaze trailed over him, as if watching a predator in a confined space. Tarymn knew he’d crossed a line, knew he’d frightened him. Hell, he’d frightened himself. He’d never lost control like that before.
Ludiin continued to stare at him.
“What?” he snapped, the word sharper than he intended.
“You couldn’t put on a shirt? It’s… weird eating with you half-naked,” Ludiin finally said, breaking the long silence.
Tarymn glanced down at his bare chest and let out a low laugh.
“What’s so funny?” Ludiin asked, frowning slightly.
“Nothing,” Tarymn said, still chuckling. “I didn’t think you’d be here after…”
Ludiin’s cheeks flushed.
“That was…” Tarymn started, but Ludiin quickly shook his head, cutting him off.
“Please, can we not talk about it?” he said barely looking at him. “I don’t think I can.”
“Okay,” Tarymn murmured. The silence that followed was heavy, thick enough to make the room feel tense and awkward. “We should find something to talk about,” Tarymn said after a few seconds. “The silence is killing me.”
Ludiin tilted his head, studying him as if searching for the perfect topic, his eyes soft and thoughtful. He looked so endearing in a way that made Tarymn’s chest tighten.
“I was thinking,” Ludiin said. “If Deltta signed off on everything, he would’ve spotted the corruption.”
Thank God, a safe topic. Tarymn let out a slow breath and leaned back in his chair, grateful for the lifeline. “Go on,” he said.
“He wouldn’t have signed documents that looked suspicious, unless the changes happened after he approved them,” Ludiin said.
“I’ve looked into that,” Tarymn muttered, “I found nothing.”
“There’s always a trail,” Ludiin insisted. “Look for something that overwrites records without drawing attention.”
Tarymn’s gaze lingered on him, weighing his words. “Can you do that?”
“Me?” Ludiin’s eyes widened in shock.
“Yes. You’ve already thought of where to look. You can find the proof.”
“I… you could just hire someone,” he said. “There are professionals who handle this sort of thing.”
“I know,” Tarymn replied, “but we can’t involve anyone, not yet. The moment word gets out we’re investigating, it’s over. I can’t risk bringing in forensic accountants. Too much is at stake. Please.”
Ludiin stared at his plate for so long that Tarymn thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then, with a small nod, he murmured, “Okay. I’ll need access to your system.”
“I can’t give you direct access,” Tarymn replied. “Everything’s monitored. Deltta sent me a few files, you can start with those. Will that work?”
“I don’t know. It depends where the change happened in the system. A live document and a saved one don’t have the same data. I won’t be able to tell if it was manipulated or not. Or did Deltta save the document before and after he signed?”
“No. There was no reason to. He trusted his alphas. Just look at it and tell me what you see,” Tarymn pushed back his chair and stood, the scrape of wood against tile cutting through the air.
Ludiin blinked at him. “Now?”
“Do you have something better to do?”
“I’m eating.”
Tarymn’s mouth curved in a short laugh. “Bring your plate.” Without waiting for an answer, he headed upstairs toward his office, certain Ludiin would follow.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, disappearing briefly to his room. A moment later, he returned wearing a shirt, finding Ludiin perched on the couch with his plate balanced awkwardly on his lap.
“Here,” Tarymn said, handing him his e-reader.
Ludiin nodded, thumbing through the files. Tarymn settled at his desk, eyes drifting to him now and then as the quiet settled in around them.
“How do you even know how to do this?” Tarymn asked after a long pause.
“I don’t know,” Ludiin admitted, his eyes fixed on the e-reader. “I just… do. Dad used to call me a super bot.”
“Really?” Tarymn’s throat tightened, the mention of his dad pulling something taut inside him. He shifted back in his chair, jaw ticking. He didn’t like talking about the alpha.
Ludiin looked up, studying him for a moment before speaking again. “He talked about you and Hym a lot.”
“He did?”
Ludiin nodded slowly, his expression soft. “He said you were an amazing alpha. Strong, with a deep sense of duty.”
Tarymn let out a short, humorless chuckle. “How would he know that? When he left, I was barely old enough to know what kind of alpha I’d even be.”
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
“That must have been painful.”
“I don’t remember,” Tarymn said, though the faint tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “Fourteen years is a long time. I’m surprised he still remembered what I was like back then.”
“Why did he leave?” Tarymn’s gaze locked on the omega. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Ludiin said quickly.
“It’s fine.” Tarymn exhaled, eyes drifting to some invisible point far away. “Our mother died, and he… lost control of himself. Aggressive alphas have a weird way of dealing with shit. If they don’t go crazy, they make life hell for everyone around them.”
“How can you say that? Aren’t you an aggressive alpha?”
“Do I behave like an aggressive alpha?”
“I don’t know. You know I haven’t been around a lot of alphas.”
“Why is that?” Tarymn asked, leaning forward slightly, the urge to know burning through him. “Did something happen?”
“No. And we’re not talking about me right now.”
Tarymn studied Ludiin’s face, searching for any sign that something happened.
His hands curled into fists, nails biting into his palms, rage simmering hot in his veins.
He tried to shove down the fierce, protective instinct clawing at his chest. His jaw tightened, his pulse hammering as the thought of anyone touching Ludiin burned through him.
He knew without a doubt—if anyone had dared lay a hand on him, he’d rip them apart with his bare hands.
“Nothing happened? No one hurt you?” He bit out.
“No.”
“I mean… you’re gorgeous and intelligent. I thought that maybe…”
“You think I’m gorgeous?” Ludiin’s eyes widened in surprise.
Shit. Tarymn cleared his throat, glancing away. “Don’t you look in the mirror?”
“I…” Ludiin stammered, words tangling on his tongue as heat crept up his neck, painting his cheeks a soft pink. The nervous twitch of his lips made him look impossibly, almost maddeningly, adorable.
“Did you find anything?” Tarymn asked, changing the subject.
“I…uhh…” Ludiin looked at the e-reader as if he’d forgotten what he’d been doing. “No. Like I said. I need access to your system to see what happened. These documents were saved with the changes.”
“Fuck.” Tarymn shoved to his feet, frustrated. His connector went off and he stared at it.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Ludiin asked, brows lifting.
“It’s Deltta,” Tarymn muttered, his tone edged with dread. “He’s going to ask for a progress report, and I’ve got nothing to give him.” He exhaled sharply, thumb hovering over his connector.
“What if…” Ludiin said thoughtfully. “What if he accessed the system and looked at those documents? Would whoever you’re investigating find that suspicious?”
“You mean, access the system as him?”
Ludiin nodded.
“I don’t know,” Tarymn admitted. “But at this point, we might not have a choice.” With a resigned exhale, he thumbed the connector and brought it to his ear. “Hey, Deltta.”
“Did you find anything?” Deltta wasted no time.
Tarymn’s stomach dipped. “Not yet.”
Across the room, Ludiin made a silent gesture that he was heading out. Tarymn returned a slight nod, his eyes following the omega until the door closed. Only then did he force his attention back to the voice in his ear. Deltta was speaking in rapid bursts, frustration, and worry coating his voice.
“I’m working on it,” Tarymn cut in when there was room to speak.
“Please hurry. Things are getting tense here. I’ll breathe easier once this is settled.”
Tarymn offered reassurances he barely felt, rubbing the back of his neck to ease the coiled tension there. His gaze drifted to the spot Ludiin had vacated. The omega was their last hope, and Tarymn needed him to find something, anything.
He explained the idea of accessing the system under Deltta’s credentials so Ludiin could hunt for proof of document tampering. Deltta agreed. Risky, yes, but the alternatives were worse.
“Let me know what you find.”
“I will.”
When the line went dead, Tarymn dropped the connector onto the desk with a dull thud. His muscles remained tight. He lifted his arms above his head, but the there was no relief.
Then, a molten wave of heat ripped through him, curling deep in his belly and spreading outward until his skin felt too tight. His hands clamped onto the desk, knuckles whitening, as raw need surged hot and fast through his veins, stealing his breath.
Shit.
His heat.
How the hell had he forgotten about that?
The warning signs hadn’t been there. The subtle aches, that faint simmer under his skin hadn’t been there, but tonight it had struck like lightning.
No build-up, no mercy. And now… the memory of what happened in the den burned through him. Was that why he’d reacted the way he did? It would explain a lot.
But why Ludiin?
He’d reacted to the omega’s closeness like a man starved. He’d never lost his grip like that before. His instincts had never dictated his actions. Never. Ludiin was fucking testing his control. Ever since he’d arrived, Tarymn hadn’t been the same. It felt like he was unraveling, thread by thread.
Jaw set, he picked up his connector and scrolled for Pitra’s code.
“Evening, Master,” came Pitra’s voice as soon the line connected.
“Evening, Pitra. I need you to arrange a service omega for me,” Tarymn said.
“Of course. I’ll see if Femi is available,” Pitra replied without pause.
“Thanks,” Tarymn said as he made his way out of the office, his feet thudding softly down the dim hallway toward Ludiin’s den. He didn’t need to wonder if the omega was there. Ludiin was always there, tinkering with his machines like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
Sure enough, he found him hunched over the workbench, his hands black from the Lumina, muttering under his breath as he worked.
Ludiin’s scent hit him like a wave—warm, rich, utterly intoxicating. It curled into his lungs before he could stop it, stoking the fire already burning low and dangerous in his veins. Heat licked across his skin, urging him forward, whispering to close the distance between them.
He forced himself to stand still.
I’m always in control, he reminded himself.
“Ludiin,” he said, his voice smooth, like nothing inside him was threatening to break.
Ludiin glanced up at him, a smudge of black Lumina streaking across his porcelain cheek.
His hair was a chaotic crown atop his head, and at some point, he’d changed into his oversized shirt and loose shorts.
He looked adorable and innocent. Tempting enough to make Tarymn’s hands curl into fists as he battled the restless pulse clawing through him.
“You’re chaos wrapped in an oversized shirt.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Tarymn shook his head sharply. “I spoke to Deltta. He agreed to let you access the system. Pitra will assist you. I won’t be around to help.”
“Are you travelling?”
“No. I’m going into heat.”
Ludiin froze. And for a split second, Tarymn swore the omega’s scent thickened, filling the space. Sweet. Too sweet.
“Okay,” Ludiin said softly.
“Don’t do that,” Tarymn growled, the command low, half to himself.
“I’m not doing anything.”
Yes, he wasn’t. And yet, he was. He just didn’t realize it.
Get out of here , Tarymn told himself. Just turn and leave. But his feet rooted in place while his control frayed thread by thread.
What the hell was wrong with him? Tarymn raked a hand through his hair, his chest tight as though he were going to lose his mind with want. Ludiin was fucking off-limits. He knew that.
“Tary…?” Ludiin said, his name sounding like a moan on his lips.
“Just… work on it,” he said abruptly, forcing himself towards the stairs.
“I will.”
“Good, thanks,” he said, descending the stairs, every muscle tight with restraint. Four days without the omega should be enough to work through this weird attraction.
It should be fine. He should be fine.