Chapter 26
When Anthony woke that morning, his phone was full of text notifications and missed calls.
He opened the message from Michael.
I’ve decided to come out as an omega.
That was all. A short, impersonal message that told Anthony exactly nothing about how Michael felt or what he thought about Anthony’s proposal.
Frowning, he scrolled through the rest of his messages. Most were from family and friends. All of them were a variation of the message sent by Jules: What the fuck, Ant? Did you know about it? Michael apparently got infected by some alien virus that turned him into an omega!
Jules had included a link to the article—an interview Michael had given to the biggest website on the planet.
Michael’s gorgeous face stared at him from the picture. He looked as confident as ever as he shook the journalist’s hand.
Tearing his gaze away from his face, Anthony skimmed the article.
Jules had gotten the gist right: Michael had claimed that he had been bitten by an alien animal, and its venom had unknown properties that triggered a powerful chemical reaction in his body, destabilizing his designation markers and turning him into an omega. There was no mention of Anthony at all.
So that was the story Michael was going with.
Anthony forced himself to unclench his jaw.
It was a valid strategy, probably suggested to Michael by his publicist. It was the least humiliating way to announce a designation change.
Mentioning another alpha would have just made people speculate if Anthony had anything to do with it.
Alpha bitching might not be talked about in polite company, but the concept was certainly known.
This way Michael would not be a subject of ridicule to the extent he would have been if people suspected that he’d been bitched by another alpha.
It was a good thing. It made things easier for Anthony too, absolving him of any blame, even if he had been incoherent during the deed.
It didn’t mean he liked it.
Anthony tried to make sense of why he felt this way, but his emotions were too tangled, too complex to unravel.
There was one emotion impossible not to recognize: possessiveness. A dark, ugly possessiveness. Part of him wanted everyone to know what Michael had done for him, to save his life. He didn’t want other alphas getting ideas that Michael was available.
Because he wasn’t.
Or was he?
There wasn’t any mention of Michael being taken in the article. In fact, the interview ended with the cheeky statement from the journalist, “While I’m sure the news will upset every omega in the country, the same can’t be said for alphas.” And Michael had just smiled in response.
Anthony ran a hand over his face. He was getting worked up over nothing. It was just a PR strategy, nothing else. Michael was his. No one would dare touch him.
Exhaling, Anthony called Michael, but he didn’t answer. He was probably just busy. It wasn’t every day one lost one’s title, after all. The legal procedures alone were probably a nightmare. Michael was probably spammed with messages and calls from everyone; of course he wasn’t picking up his phone.
But I’m not everyone.
Anthony sighed, frustrated by his own thoughts. He’d always sneered at alphas who acted clingy and controlling when it came to their omegas. This wasn’t him.
He was always in control of himself.
Always.
***
Later that evening, as Anthony watched Michael from across the ballroom, he wondered grimly if he had overestimated his self-control.
He twitched every time another alpha stepped into Michael’s personal space. If one happened to brush his arm against Michael’s, he found himself grinding his teeth, his hand gripping his drink like a lifeline. Don’t make a scene, don’t make a scene, don’t make a scene.
“Gods, what’s wrong with you?” Jules said, his nostrils flaring. “Stop stinking up the place, it’s making me twitchy.”
Anthony glowered at his brother before returning his gaze to Michael and his crowd of admirers. It felt like every goddamn alpha in the room was trying to get Michael’s attention.
“Are you worried for Michael?” Jules said, following his gaze. “He seems to be handling it fine.”
“Yeah,” Eric cut in, as he approached them with Hugh. “If I were in his position, I’d be hiding at home, but he’s being very brave—and it doesn’t even look forced. You shouldn’t worry for him.”
Anthony didn’t look at Hugh, who was watching him carefully. Unlike his brothers, Hugh knew a great deal more about his relationship with Michael, but it didn’t look like he’d told Eric. Then again, he was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality.
“I thought you went back to Kadar,” Anthony said shortly.
“We were going to, but the scandal changed our plans. Michael is our friend, too,” Eric said. “Though obviously he’s more Li’s and yours. Where’s Li, by the way?”
“Anton has a bit of a fever, so he and Jon can’t be here tonight,” Jules said.
Eric snickered. “I still can’t believe they named their baby as a combination of Ant’s and Jon’s names.”
Jules laughed and said something back, but Anthony could barely hear the rest of their banter.
Graham Pembroke had picked up Michael’s hand and was kissing it. And Michael was blushing, looking either uncomfortable—or flustered.
His vision bled red at the edges, the world narrowing to the asshole touching what was his.
Anthony moved before he realized it.
The crowd parted for him, sensing the danger rolling off him—or maybe it was his scent.
“Anthony,” Hugh said in warning, following him and grabbing his shoulder.
Anthony shrugged his hand off, too on edge to tolerate another alpha’s touch, even if it was his brother-in-law.
“Don’t make a scene,” Hugh said quietly, pulling him aside.
Anthony barely suppressed the urge to bare his teeth at him. “What’s it to you? You’re just annoyed that we didn’t follow your advice.”
Hugh sighed. “For fuck’s sake,” he said, keeping his voice very low.
“I’m not your enemy, Ant. You know I disagree with how you handled the situation, but what’s done is done.
He’s an omega, and he seems fine with it.
People’s reaction to his designation change was relatively positive. Don’t ruin it.”
“I’m not going to ruin anything,” Anthony ground out. “Every goddamn alpha here is panting after him. Why should I be any different?”
Hugh shot him a skeptical look. “People have functioning noses. You don’t smell like an interested suitor. You smell like a territorial alpha. People aren’t stupid. They’d put two and two together.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Anthony reined his scent in. Tried to. But it was like swimming against a strong river’s current—he could fight it only as long as he kept his focus.
“Better,” Hugh said, his brows drawn. “But be careful. He doesn’t need another scandal right now.”
Giving a clipped nod, Anthony stalked away, shouldering his way through the crowd of alphas until he got to Michael and Graham Pembroke.
“Pembroke,” he said curtly, trying not to stare at Michael too obviously.
Michael’s dark eyes met his, and Anthony had to dig his fingernails into his palm to stop himself from reaching out and running his hands all over him—scent-marking him from head to toe. Fuck, he felt like he’d gladly whip his cock out and piss all over him right there if Michael allowed him to.
“Michael,” he said, his voice dropping to a hoarse murmur.
Aware of the hundreds of eyes on them, he reined in his scent as much as possible.
Everyone knew they were friends, so he would be granted more leeway than other alphas, but he still had to be careful if he didn’t want to draw suspicion to the true nature of their relationship.
He fucking hated it, hated that he still couldn’t publicly stake his claim despite Michael coming out as an omega.
But that didn’t mean he couldn’t touch him at all.
Picking up the hand Pembroke had kissed, Anthony brought it to his mouth and brushed his lips against Michael’s wrist, looking him in the eyes.
He felt a fine shiver run through Michael’s fair skin and saw Michael’s throat move as he swallowed.
He wondered if Michael was already wet and ready for him.
Fuck, more than anything, he wanted to drop to his knees right there and find out, and damn everyone watching.
Let them watch. Let them see how eager Michael always was for him, how he writhed against his mouth like a slut, unable to get Anthony’s tongue deep enough into his omega cunt.
“Good, I needed to talk to you,” Michael said curtly, his voice sounding a little strained. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he started moving. Anthony felt a rush of grim satisfaction when Michael didn’t bother to make an excuse for his admirers. He didn’t even glance at them.
Anthony followed him, of course, barely resisting the urge to put a proprietary hand on his nape. Or his lower back. Or his ass.
“What do you think you were doing,” Michael hissed once they were out on the balcony. It was empty but exposed—anyone could see them through the glass doors if they bothered to look.
“I didn’t do anything Pembroke didn’t do,” Anthony said, coming to stand beside him by the railing, their backs to the ballroom. He pressed his shoulder against Michael’s.
“I don’t give a fuck about Pembroke’s posturing,” Michael ground out without looking at him. “You kissed my hand in public. I might be an omega now, but I’ve been an alpha all my life. It was—it was weird. Embarrassing.”
Anthony studied his profile: his gorgeous features, his tightly pursed lips and the eyes that wouldn’t look at him. He didn’t like that. Michael should always be looking at him.
Anthony bit the inside of his cheek, trying to quell the obsessive possessiveness. At times like this, he didn’t recognize himself. He’d never been this way with omegas. With anyone.
“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he said tersely. “It wasn’t my inten—” He cut himself off when he noticed the scent. Omega arousal. He hadn’t smelled it on Michael since he’d started using the alpha implant; that was why he hadn’t recognized it immediately.
“It aroused you,” Anthony stated, his heart beating faster. “Me kissing your hand in public. Treating you like an omega.”
Michael’s jaw clenched. “No, it didn’t,” he said stiffly, but there was some color on his cheekbones.
Fuck, he was so lovely. Anthony wanted to kiss him right there and then.
Chuckling, he shifted his hand and scraped his fingertips over the bulge in Michael’s pants. “Then what is this, sweetheart?”
“Are you crazy?” Michael hissed breathlessly. “People are looking at us!”
“Our backs are to them,” Anthony said, unconcerned, kneading Michael’s bulge. “I bet you’re dripping for me already, aren’t you?”
“I hate you,” Michael said weakly. His body was rigid. He was clearly trying not to grind against Anthony’s hand.
“Do you think they’ll notice if I stand behind you and slip my cock into you?” Anthony murmured, barely suppressing the urge to bury his face against Michael’s neck. “We could just stay like that. Not fucking. Your hole warming my cock, squeezing around it greedily until I come and knot you.”
A whimper slipped out of Michael’s mouth.
“Fuck, you’re so easy for me,” Anthony said, massaging Michael’s cock ruthlessly. “Can’t wait for everyone to know you’re my stupid little bitch, my knot-dumb slut.”
Michael shuddered with his entire body and moaned, his crotch becoming damp with semen as he came. Just like that. From a little dirty talk.
Anthony gritted his teeth, arousal making it hard to think. He’d never been so turned on. Yanking his own fly open, he ordered, “Touch me.”
“You’re crazy,” Michael said but obediently wrapped his hand around Anthony’s stiff cock despite the awkward angle.
“Jerk me off,” Anthony bit out, his muscles locked up with the effort to keep still. “This is your fault, so you will jerk me off.”
Blushing furiously, Michael glanced back at the ballroom, but his hand was already moving over Anthony’s leaking cock with firm, hard strokes.
Anthony could barely keep still as he looked down and saw his erection in Michael’s hand.
Michael might be an omega between his legs now, but his hand was that of an alpha.
His grip was perfect. He knew exactly how to hold an alpha’s cock, knew exactly what felt good. It looked obscene. It felt amazing.
Anthony groaned through gritted teeth as he finally came.
Michael milked him through his orgasm, prolonging the pleasure, before bringing his hand to his mouth and slowly licking Anthony’s come off of it.
Anthony’s cock made an attempt to twitch again.
Michael smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing to him, the little shit. Anthony had never wanted to kiss him so badly. He hated that he couldn’t.
“You will marry me in two weeks,” Anthony said tightly. “Or I’ll knot you in front of your new fans. One way or another, they’ll know you’re mine.”
Flushing, Michael shot him an incredulous look and, yanking his jacket to cover his crotch, stalked back into the ballroom.