Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
OROS
“What do you think?” Onyx asks as I shift back into my human form.
I don’t answer my brother right away, instead disappearing behind my throne—the one he’s currently lounging on like he’s the Prince of Gold Sector—to pull on a pair of black pants.
His silver eyes are on the court’s ornate double doors as I round the massive chair made of solid gold. For a moment, I follow his gaze, wondering what he’s listening to in the corridor beyond. His hearing has always been better than mine. It’s one of his many talents.
Of course, I have my own talents as well.
Such as my ability to smell truths and lies.
“They’re hiding something,” I tell my brother, answering his question regarding what I think. The of the Omega and her father part was implied. “The Omega’s scent changed when her father said all he wanted was her protection. She also didn’t seem all that keen on being evaluated.”
The latter I suspect stemmed from some type of abuse. Our evaluations are rather standard, the focus being on physical and mental health. But I know not all sectors operate like ours does.
“Obsidian Sector,” I mutter, recalling what Alpha Keegan said about where his daughter was from. “He never said what she is, though. Just insinuated that she’s Drakonian since she’s his progeny.”
“Well, that makes her at least half Drakonian,” my brother points out.
“Indeed,” I agree. “But she doesn’t smell like a dragon.”
Instead, she reminded me of a meadow full of wildflowers. Her alluring scent still lingers in the room, a pleasant aroma that oddly placates my inner beast.
I’ve met hundreds of Omegas before.
Been with a few through their heats.
Yet none of them ever calmed my dragon.
“No, she reeked of mutt,” Onyx growls, causing my shoulders to stiffen. “She’s a hybrid, which isn’t unexpected given her origin. But what did they pair her with?”
I frown. “She smells bad to you?”
“Not bad, just tainted,” he returns. “Why? How does she smell to you?”
“Refreshing,” I admit, glancing toward the doors she walked through several minutes ago. The rest of the court followed, leaving my brother and me to speak in private.
A typical session with an outsider—me in dragon form, my brother on my throne, and our trusted generals awaiting our command.
Two took Alpha Keegan to a waiting suite.
Two escorted the Omega to her evaluation.
And the other four are likely in the corridor, guarding the doors but not listening in on our conversation.
“Refreshing,” my brother echoes. “That’s… an interesting description.”
“Is it?” I ask, feigning innocence as I call upon my magic to clothe my torso in my usual armor—enchanted gold.
My brother is similarly dressed, only his metal looks silver in nature because his affinity is for white gold, not yellow gold. Hence his silvery eyes.
Mine are yellow gold in contrast.
“You’re interested,” he says, sounding surprised. “Dozens of Omega mate offerings and it’s a mutt that calls to your dragon?” He whistles. “That beast always was fucking complicated.”
“First of all, I never claimed to be interested.” A fact, not a lie. “And second, stop referring to the Omega as a mutt.” That final word barely escapes my clenched jaw, the term really pissing off my dragon.
A fiery energy stirs, one I know better than to provoke. I may be one with my beast, but his instincts are not always easy to control. Even instincts I don’t fully understand.
“I’m going to go observe the Omega’s evaluation,” I decide out loud, needing to understand my dragon’s interest.
Perhaps Taliana possesses some sort of mating energy or a magnetic pull. I’ll have to mention the possibility to Doctor Taylor.
Returning to my throne, I put on a pair of slipper-like shoes and grab my cloak to hook it to the gold adornments on my shoulders.
Traditional Drakonian garb. We all show off our metallic gifts, primarily to remind others of our power.
Gold marks me as a royal—my brother, too.
His armor flashes in the light as he ashes to stand before me, blocking my path to the door. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I glance down at my attire, frowning. “A blade?” I sometimes carry a dagger on my hip, but it’s not a necessity since I can conjure one at will.
“A certain meeting?” he presses, his arms folding over his mostly bare chest.
I consider my schedule for a moment and curse. “Riordan.”
“Yes, that would be the one,” my brother drawls. “I highly doubt the Alpha Prince of Jasper Sector will appreciate a last-minute schedule change.”
My jaw clenches again. Onyx isn’t wrong. Riordan isn’t exactly known for his patience or his understanding nature.
Oh, he’s a fantastic ally.
But a colossal pain in my ass otherwise.
“Can you take the call without me?” I ask Onyx. “It’s about trade routes.”
“I know what it’s about,” he replies, giving me a look that says he’s a bit offended by my meeting-topic clarification. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I frown at him. “You know how I feel about the negotiation. If he wants access to the Black Sea, then I want access to Gibraltar.”
He rolls his eyes. “I meant about the Omega, Rumpelstiltskin. You know better than to leave me on a call alone with Riordan, yet you’re risking me jeopardizing our diplomatic relations for a female you just met. I want to know what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking it’s time for you to get over your little rivalry with Rio and grow a pair, Silverstiltskin,” I retort, throwing the nickname at him in retaliation for him calling me Rumpelstiltskin. It’s been an ongoing joke between us since we were kids. But sometimes he uses the name to goad me.
Which is precisely the purpose now.
I can see the intent in his glittery irises.
“She’s under your skin. Is it her scent? Her curvy little body? That waterfall of silver-black hair?” He runs his gaze over me like he’s evaluating a test subject. “I know it wasn’t her eyes since she never looked up from the ground. So I’m guessing tits and ass.”
My beast growls a little inside me, disliking the crude analysis. Or maybe my dragon is reacting to the combative energy pouring off my brother. “Are you trying to challenge me for her?” I wonder aloud. “Is that what this is?”
His eyes widen, all playfulness disappearing from his features. “Shit, I was joking, but this Omega really does have you by the knot, doesn’t she?”
My jaw ticks. “I don’t even know her, Onyx,” I grit out.
“And yet, you’re throwing off waves of possessiveness the entire fucking sector can probably feel right now.”
I fold my arms over my still-bare chest, the magical gold adorning my shoulders and biceps flexing and shifting with the movement.
“I want to oversee the Omega’s evaluation to determine what she’s hiding.
It’s my job to protect this sector, and that means knowing and understanding everything and everyone within my boundaries.
Now, will you handle the call with Riordan or not? ”
My brother stares at me for a long beat, then nods. “Fine. But I’m not letting him in the Black Sea.”
I shrug. “That’s between you and Rio now.” I turn toward the door, only for my brother to appear before me in a glittery cloud of silver that almost instantly evaporates around his corporeal form.
“Hold on,” he says slowly. “Is that what this is? You’re feigning interest in the Omega so you can pawn off Riordan on me?”
My lips curl, the notion one that pleases me. “Maybe. Did it work?” I ask him.
I vanish into thin air before he can reply and ash myself down to the lower levels of the building. Despite being several floors below my brother, I can almost hear his string of curses.
Did I intentionally leave him to deal with Riordan? No. Am I sorry that’s exactly what I just did? Also no.
Onyx and Riordan have always bickered, their personalities too well matched for them to ever become true allies. But Riordan has his uses, and I’m rather certain he feels similarly about my younger brother.
They just need to work out some of their… kinks.
Good luck, Silverstiltskin, I think, grinning. We can’t communicate telepathically, but his voice seems to linger in my mind, taunting my every step toward the labs on this level.
One question in particular haunts me, the words swirling on repeat through my thoughts.
“This Omega really does have you by the knot, doesn’t she?”
Does she? I wonder as her scent curls around me like a welcome kiss. Maybe.
A strange sensation, one I’m almost certain is the result of some sort of enchantment.
Hopefully, Doctor Taylor will be able to provide more insight.
I turn the corner, nearing her examination quarters, and almost collide with Savan. He jumps back with a curse, his dark eyes finding mine and then flicking away an instant later. “Sorry, My Prince,” he mutters, shaking himself.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, searching the hallway for the source of his agitation. Because he’s practically huffing, his inner beast clearly ruffled by something.
“The Omega,” he grinds out, his teeth clenched. “She’s terrified.”
My brow furrows. “Terrified of what?”
But as soon as the question is out, I hear her whimper. It’s soft. So soft that it barely carries. However, it’s the clearest sound in the world to my senses.
I move around Savan and open the door without knocking.
And find Taliana stark naked on the examination bed.
My lips part, stunned by the sight. Then fury quickly replaces my shock as I see her tiny hands curl into fists, her eyes squeezing shut.
Terrified is an understatement.
Fuck.
“Where’s Doctor Taylor?” I demand, then wince as the Omega visibly trembles.
“She’s gathering all her supplies, My—”
“Tell her I’ll call her when we’re ready,” I reply, cutting off Savan before he can finish his formal address. The last thing Taliana needs right now is to hear my title. She’s obviously upset enough. “Take a walk, Savan,” I add before shutting the door.
The Omega can no doubt sense his agitation, as well as mine. Drakonian Alphas are designed to protect, and this female is clearly in need of safety. Savan’s inner beast is likely rioting right now with the intrinsic desire to destroy whatever has this woman so spooked.
Only, I suspect it’s us she fears.
Which makes it an impossible task to annihilate the threat.
At least in terms our dragons understand.
No, this is going to take a careful touch.
Leaning back against the door, I evaluate the shivering woman, my brow furrowing. “Where’s your patient gown?” I finally ask her.
It’s such an inane question. But I’m hoping it’ll entice her to speak.
Her slender throat bobs, drawing my attention to her collarbone and down—
No.
I force my gaze back to her chin and then to her full lips as she whispers, “I know it’s not needed, so I opted not to wear it.”
My eyebrow arches upward. Not that she sees it. Her eyes are still closed. “Why isn’t it needed?”
“Because I know what’s expected of me.” She spreads her legs slightly, the movements rigid and not at all sensual. Yet my gaze is drawn to the apex between her thighs on instinct, her scent hitting me with dizzying power.
Now it’s my turn to swallow because fuck, she smells amazing. It takes centuries of restraint to force my attention back to her beautiful face.
The worry etched into her angelic features is enough to ground me in the moment and sharpen my focus. “And what’s expected of you?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
I can only imagine the horrors she experienced in Obsidian Sector, otherwise known as the infamous land of genetic experimentation.
“You’ll need to ensure I can take a knot.” She utters the words with resigned conviction, like she’s accepted her fate and isn’t afraid of it.
Except I can smell her fear.
“You’ve been evaluated before?” I guess aloud, my voice holding a note of disgust to it. Not because she’s been knotted before, but because she was very likely knotted against her will.
Her lashes flutter as her eyes open, a pretty blush stealing over her cheeks. “No, I’m untouched.” She glances toward me, then freezes upon meeting my gaze.
Midnight, I think, admiring the color of her irises. A black sky dotted with silver stars.
Flames, I’ve never seen eyes like hers. So illustrious. So unique. So fucking beautiful.
“Are you here to knot me, Alpha?” she asks, her voice tinged with a breathy quality that almost suggests she’s interested.
Yet beneath that breathy sound was a tremor of terror, telling me everything I need to know about this situation.
“No,” I inform her, instantly snapping into my protector role. “I don’t fuck unwilling women.”
She flinches, her glorious eyes leaving mine as she looks away in shame. “I’m sorry for displeasing you, Alpha.”
Fuck. My tone clearly conveyed my displeasure, but it wasn’t for the reasons she thought.
Shaking my head, I start toward her and reach for the cloak at my back. The gold automatically releases it, my mind controlling the metal just as easily as I control my steps.
Taliana’s hypnotic gaze flies to me when I’m less than a foot away, her body stiffening like she anticipates some sort of punishment.
But all I do is drape the black fabric over her exposed body.
“I don’t know what you’ve been told, but the Alphas of Gold Sector value consent,” I say. “We cherish our Omegas here, and we certainly don’t punish them.”
Unless it’s for fun.
However, I don’t add that last bit out loud, as I doubt this female would understand that kind of kink.
She says nothing, probably because she’s breathing too hard to speak.
No wonder Savan was in a state, I think, my own dragon pacing angrily inside me. I tasked Onyx with talking to her father. However, I’m absolutely taking that task back. Because I have questions.
Starting with Who the fuck hurt your daughter?
Because if it was him, I would kill him without hesitation.
I meant what I said—Omegas are cherished here.
Oh, we have a reputation to the contrary, our missions of stealing Omegas from other sectors renowned throughout the world.
But we only take Omegas who need to be rescued.
And then we help them heal.
The other Drakonian sectors are all aware of our purpose here, which means Keegan knows that as well. So perhaps that’s why he brought his daughter here—because he knows she needs to be saved.
So why not start with that? I wonder, admiring the female’s slender throat.
“Do you want a Drakonian mate?” I ask her, curious as to whether or not she’s actually here willingly. “Or is your father forcing you to be here?”