Chapter 13
The mark was still there the next morning, red and inflamed. It was still there three days later.
It hurt when he pressed against it. Of course it hurt.
When an alpha bit an omega’s mating gland, they released an enzyme into their bloodstream.
The omega’s body made its own enzyme in response—and made the mark take, creating a mating bond between them.
Michael wasn’t an omega. According to his limited research, if an alpha was bitten by another alpha, his body was supposed to treat the foreign alpha enzyme as a virus and produce antibodies to counteract it and heal the bite.
Except no such thing was happening. Although the mark obviously hadn’t taken, it wasn’t healing either, the wound as inflamed as it had been days ago. Michael didn’t need to be a doctor to know that something was very wrong.
The rational part of him tried to suggest going to the hospital, but the alpha in him bristled at the mere suggestion. It would be so humiliating. What would he even say? I let another alpha bite my throat, and fuck my pecs and mouth, and now the mark isn’t healing? Yeah, no. He wasn’t doing that.
So he just stayed home for the next five days.
Michael would’ve liked to say he’d spent the time trying to think of a solution to his problem, but truth be told, that would have been a lie.
Most of the time, he was too busy fucking himself on his dildo, his other hand pressing hard against the mark on his neck, stroking it dazedly until the skin felt raw and oversensitive and his neck burned with sharp, twisting pain and he came without even touching his cock.
His cock felt useless these days. Big and useless, leaking against his abs as Michael stuffed his hole with a dildo, desperate to scratch an itch he couldn’t seem to scratch.
He didn’t know what was going on with him.
But it was undeniable that something was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
***
On the sixth day of his self-imposed confinement, his mother finally cornered him in the sitting room.
“What’s going on, darling?” she said, her dark eyes roaming over his face, as if looking for answers.
Michael fidgeted with his cravat, suddenly paranoid she might see through it. It didn’t help that his body still felt loose and shaky after his last orgasm. Speaking to his mother after the unnatural, depraved acts he’d committed felt almost sacrilegious.
“I don’t know what you mean, Mother,” he said curtly, straightening his shoulders. Alpha. He was his mother’s family alpha. He should act like one.
“You’ve basically become a hermit these days,” she said, frowning deeply. “People are starting to talk, darling.”
He stiffened. “Can’t a man take a few days off from the endless society circus?”
She pursed her lips, undeterred by the coldness of his voice. She might be an omega, but she was his mother and wasn’t easily intimidated. “You haven’t been yourself for some time now, Michael. I’m worried.”
A pang of alarm shot through him like a jolt. Had he been that obvious?
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been... off,” she said slowly. “You told me a few months ago that you intended to finally take a mate, but now you avoid socializing and barely look at omegas when you do go out. And you smell strange lately.”
Michael tensed up. What? Could she smell Anthony’s scent on him?
What did you expect? a voice said snidely at the back of his mind. You swallowed his come. He smeared his precome all over your mating gland, marking you like his territory. Like his bitch.
“Strange?” he said, his voice sharper than he’d intended.
She nodded, a deep wrinkle appearing between her brows. “I don’t know how to explain it... But you smell a little different. Not bad. Just different.”
“It’s probably the new aftershave messing with your senses,” Michael said, more than a little alarmed.
If even his mother—who had been on weak suppressants since his father’s death and didn’t have a particular sensitivity to scents—could tell that his scent was off, then it definitely was, and that had nothing to do with his aftershave.
He hadn’t even shaved in days. Having some scruff on his face made him feel better.
More like an alpha. It was hard to feel like an alpha when he couldn’t seem to last a few hours without stuffing something into his asshole—or thinking about stuffing something into his asshole.
“Maybe,” she said, but her expression was doubtful. “In any case, you need to go out more. Make some actual effort to find a compatible omega. You promised to get mated this year.”
“I remember,” he said with a sigh. “I will go to the ball this evening and dance with a few omegas. I promise.”
Smiling, she stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek—or rather, on his jaw, since she was so much shorter than him. “Thank you, darling. But don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself. I want a few grandchildren to spoil rotten, but first and foremost, I want you to be happy.”
Michael forced a smile. “I will. Don’t worry, Mother.”
***
Cravats were rather old-fashioned and worn mostly by the older generation, but Michael didn’t have a choice when he got dressed for the ball. The bruise was still very red and very obvious, and Michael was extremely self-conscious about it no matter how well it was hidden by his snow-white cravat.
The cravat might be old-fashioned, but it suited him. He looked good. The dark evening suit contrasted nicely with the cravat, emphasizing his broad shoulders and tall, elegant frame.
Michael stared at the man in his reflection.
He really was rather ridiculously handsome.
He’d always known he was handsome, of course, but it was the first time he was acutely aware of it: of his high cheekbones and perfect bone structure, of his firm jaw and full lips, of his lush, dark gold hair.
He still hadn’t shaved, and the slight scruff gave him a more roguish appearance, the cravat notwithstanding.
Anthony was right: he did look better than most omegas.
Warmth curled in his stomach at the thought.
Grimacing, Michael shoved the thought away.
What Anthony thought of his appearance was irrelevant.
It was the omegas he had to appeal to tonight.
And Anthony was unlikely to be there. Torryn’s full moon had only just begun to wane, and Torryn alphas tended to avoid social events so soon after their ruts.
It should be safe to go out. Not that he was scared of his friend or anything.
Of course he wasn’t. It would just be easier to focus on omegas if Anthony wasn’t there to aggravate him and distract him.
Michael would go out, pick an omega to court, and marry them within a few months. His life would be back on track.
An hour later, Michael wondered grimly if he’d been a bit too optimistic.
Picking an omega to court was easier said than done. They all blended together for him. None of them stirred his blood. He didn’t hate them. He was bored.
“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” his mother said.
“She is,” Michael agreed, suppressing a sigh. He had no idea who she was talking about, but it didn’t matter: all omegas his mother pointed out to him were beautiful, without exception.
His mother’s face brightened. “You should dance with her, then, darling.”
Michael followed her gaze and grimaced inwardly when he saw the omega.
The young woman was beautiful, with light blond hair and nice eyes.
Exactly his type. He’d always preferred blondes and redheads.
And yet, the hopeful look on the omega’s pretty face only made him tired now.
He wasn’t in the mood for dancing. But it would be the smart thing to do.
He’d barely danced with omegas since his return from Belith.
People were starting to notice. The last thing he needed was the gossipmongers’ scrutiny on him.
He had to act normal. He had to pick a compatible omega, court them, and marry them. There was no use dragging his feet.
“I will,” he said and headed toward the omega.
Michael put on a smile as he approached her and invited her to dance. And being who he was, he wasn’t refused. He was never refused.
By the end of the hour, Michael had danced with six different omegas, all of them beautiful and well-mannered, all of them in possession of sweet, appealing scents and equally sweet personalities.
Their scents didn’t aggravate him, didn’t make his inner alpha bristle and posture.
Any of them would make a fine spouse and give him a gaggle of beautiful children.
While he didn’t feel any real attraction to them, he found them aesthetically pleasing.
And they didn’t smell unappealing to him, which meant they were compatible enough where pheromones were concerned.
The omegas smelled interested. Eager even. It wasn’t about just his title or his money. They were attracted to him as a man. As an alpha. Michael could smell it in their scents, in the way they arched their pretty necks subtly, trying to entice him to scent them.
They looked good like that. They smelled good.
But his instincts remained quiet, his cock soft.
It made Michael uneasy, his mood darkening with every dance, every omega that failed to move him. He didn’t know why they all left him cold, why none of them stirred his blood.
You know why.
Quashing the thought ruthlessly, Michael locked his jaw tight and kept trying. He danced, flirted, and smiled, desperate to feel something. But his body remained unaffected.
His mood was as sore as his feet by the time the butler announced Anthony’s arrival.
Michael utterly loathed the way his heartbeat picked up, his palms becoming clammy. The omega in his arms became little more than an accessory he spun around the ballroom, his awareness of his own body sharpening to an alarming degree.