Chapter 3
The music was obnoxious and the smells were off-putting. Sarang kept close to the bar for the first hour, giving himself time to adjust to the sensory overload while his body dipped further and further into rut.
His skin was tight and prickly, causing him to shift on his feet and roll his shoulders frequently, and his mood was becoming more irritable with each passing second. Soon, he’d be too far gone to bother finding a perfect match, would instead jump the first omega who presented for him.
The Wardrobe was not his usual haunt, but he’d visited once or twice when Kian was investigating the trafficking ring.
The company was infamous for their auctions, but they held Den Nights three times a month, and Sarang had just happened to be lucky enough that one of them was being held the exact moment he needed it.
Rut and heat suppressants helped stave off an alpha or omega’s cycle, but the drugs could be detrimental to their overall health, leading to all sorts of pheromone problems if they weren’t properly used. Because of this, going through a natural cycle at least twice a year was a requirement.
Sarang had figured, with Shiloh feeling down and mostly in seclusion, now would be the perfect time for him to stop using the drugs. The initial plan had been to call up the escort service he usually used for this sort of thing, but after that revelation from Shiloh last night…
He was still seething.
Hurt and angry.
The complete and total disregard Shiloh had for him was the worst part, followed closely by the fact Sarang had been as thoroughly manipulated as everyone else.
As though he was just like the rest of them.
Another face in the sea of people dutybound to serve the prince.
As an alpha, the influx of pheromones during rut made him volatile and dangerous. His aggression levels rose and the need to dominate and claim became as necessary as breathing. The service he usually patroned was classy and discrete. Even Shiloh hadn’t known about his past visits.
Not that he thought the prince would find out about this time either.
When he’d left the Compound, Shiloh had been fast asleep in his room. Considering the late hour, that was to be expected, and there’d be no reason for him to seek Sarang out, especially after how they’d ended the night in relative silence.
He’d been unable to make small talk with the omega after learning the truth of the pregnancy, not just because of the feeling of betrayal, but also because of the renewed guilt.
When he’d first discovered Shiloh had “lost the baby” months ago, Sarang had spiraled into weeks of self-loathing brought on by his initial reaction.
Relief.
Their world wasn’t safe for children. It was cold, bloody, and dangerous. Enemies lurked around every corner, and the offspring of a prince? They would never be safe. Having heard stories of Shiloh and Sloane’s upbringing, Sarang was certain of that much.
There was also the fact that Sarang had been too grateful that Shiloh was all right to spare much emotion for the unborn child he’d always known would cause problems later down the line.
If he’d had to choose between the two, it would always be Shiloh, as selfish as that was.
If one of them had had to die that day, at least it hadn’t been the prince.
That thought had caused so much guilt and resentment within him, bolstered when Shiloh had been in obvious mourning, and now Sarang was being told it’d all been a lie?
Yes. This definitely wasn’t a world meant for kids.
You couldn’t even trust your closest ally here.
Sarang downed the rest of his drink and practically slammed the glass onto the bar top. His rut was making him irritable, his thoughts tumultuous. He needed to get a grip and speed this process up before he lost control and ended up mounting a random omega in the middle of the room.
It wasn’t uncouth, considering there were already several couples copulating out in the open, but Sarang was the underboss of the Eumia. He couldn’t risk that type of exposure, even if multi-slates were collected at the door and they were all wearing masks.
His itched.
The edges of the half mask irritated his skin, but he left it on. He’d selected it at random at the entrance and ended up with a dark silver gray mask with small curved horns at the top ends. Smaller ones angled over the center of his cheeks—maybe to mirror fangs, he wasn’t sure and didn’t care.
There was no rhyme or reason to the face coverings. All around him, a myriad of colors and styles flashed beneath the golden strobe lights. For half of the people here, it was all they wore, their clothes long since stripped from their bodies.
The smell was a mixture of enticing and revolting, too much alpha musk and omega yearning making it hard to breathe.
He scented the air anyway, seeking out a suitable partner so he could get this over with.
Once the rut fully hit, it wouldn’t matter if he liked the smell of the omega, he’d bed the first one he found.
Sarang pushed away from the bar and wandered through the crowds, brushing off the advances of a few female omegas. He had a particular type, one he always sought out when he gave into the rut, and they didn’t make the cut.
A couple males tried to catch his eye, but they either smelled too sweet or were too large or small in stature. He was particular. Wanted just right.
The smell of iris and moss caught his notice, too familiar, and his head whipped toward it, catching sight of a form partially shrouded in shadow by one of the alcoves. The black velvet curtain to the deep space was still open, meaning the omega waiting beside it had yet to find a partner.
Sarang was already crossing toward him, mind struggling against what his heart was telling him.
There was no way Shiloh was here, even if this omega smelled exactly like him.
Even if he was the perfect height and build, with the same inky black hair and—
He came to a halt in front of the omega in question, tipping his head and giving another sniff, trying to ignore the disappointment when he registered the foreign scents mixed in with the familiar.
Not Shiloh.
But similar.
Sarang released his pheromones, letting them waft over the omega who was eyeing him down with interest. When he wasn’t immediately dismissed, he pressed harder, stepping closer and allowing a low rumble to vibrate through his chest. Even though everyone signed a waiver when they entered Den Night, Sarang wouldn’t take advantage of someone who wasn’t interested.
The omega leaned in, sniffing his throat before the corner of his full lips tipped upward.
Taking that as an invitation, Sarang wrapped his hands around the smaller man’s waist and crowded him against the stone wall.
He’d been hard since before walking into the room, and he rubbed the bulge in his pants suggestively against the omega’s stomach, purring in approval when he received a needy whimper and a wave of lust pheromones in return.
The omega was leaking from both ends, the tangy smell of his slick cutting through more of that familiar scent Sarang had been drawn to. Probably for the best. He could only allow himself to sink so far into delusion, just enough to satiate the obsessiveness within him.
He went to push the omega into the alcove, but the man placed a hand over his heart, stilling him.
“You’re too big for this spot, alpha,” the man said in a breathy voice.
Too high pitched.
Not at all like the omega Sarang wished he was about to bed.
“There.” The man motioned behind Sarang toward the corner. “Let’s relocate.”
Private rooms were that way. Personally, the alcove was enough for Sarang, but seeing the omega hesitate had him nodding. Either way, they’d be stuck with each other for the rest of the night—well into tomorrow if they ended up being truly compatible.
“How long does your heat usually last?” he asked as he led them toward the hallway, keeping a hand on the omega’s lower back and sending warning glares to any alpha they passed whose gaze lingered. “My rut can be anywhere from twelve to forty-eight hours, depending.”
“Depending on how good the breeding is?”
Sarang scowled at the word choice. “Mating. Are you not on protection?”
“I am, and I’m guessing so are you. It’s just a kink, alpha. Promise.”
Since Sarang had taken the pill before coming here, and the likelihood of him impregnating anyone was already low anyway, he didn’t argue the point further.
Most of the people in here were trying to breed, that was also something he understood, so he couldn’t fault the omega even if it wasn’t merely bedroom talk meant to help set the mood.
“My heats don’t typically go for longer than a day,” the omega finally told him as they stepped into one of the small rooms. There was a single bed with a bare mattress covered in plastic in the center and nothing else, not even pillows. “But I’ll stay and help you through your entire rut.”
The lighting was even darker in here than out in the main area, with only four light orbs bobbing against the ceiling, casting a glow weaker than that of a candle.
The entire space was shrouded in shadow, dark enough they could have comfortably removed their masks without fear of the other seeing their faces clearly enough.
Sarang’s cock lengthened. He’d be able to hold onto the illusion even better in here, without having to see the omega.
His night vision was good, better than many, but he was no dominate alpha, so while his vision would adjust to this murky darkness, it would take time.
Enough time for him to be slave to his rut and half out of his mind before then.
“You will,” Sarang agreed, stripping out of his shirt as he walked toward the bed. “Come inside and close the door.”
The omega turned to do as he was told, but the lights in the room and out in the hallway flickered once before going out completely, casting them in total darkness.