“You’re upset about that.”
“Wouldyoulike to be owned, alpha?”
“Depends on who’s offering to hold my leash.” Oberon winked and then chuckled when Fenrir glared. “Relax, it’s a party. Try and have some fun.”
“That’s rich, coming from you. You’re arguably the most bored one here.”
“Touché.” He downed his drink and then seamlessly reached out and selected a new one from a tray as a waiter passed, leaving his empty glass on the edge of the banister. They’d stuck to the outskirts of the event, on the second level, overlooking the main event below.
They weren’t the only ones.
Trying to be discreet about it, Fen tipped his head to the right, peering at the Dominus seated on a dais at the center of the top floor. Like them, he was watching over the guests, but he was composed and alert.
“Careful, newly turned omega,” Oberon’s voice dropped low. “I’ve never been prone to jealousy before, but I’m finding myself currently at risk of stepping into its clutches.”
“He’s attractive,” Fenrir pushed his luck, purposefully ignoring the warning, and then shrugged. “If you’re into that sort of thing.”
Oberon inspected his Dominus. “We’re both blond, devilishly handsome, and have more money than we know what to do with. What’s not to like?”
“His hair is white.”
“It’s platinum, actually.”
“Okay.”
“Are you sayingyouaren’t into that sort of thing?”
“Rich and hot?” Fenrir clicked his tongue. “Only a fool wouldn’t be drawn to power. Influence runs the universe. Coin funds it.”
“What a bleak way to view the world.”
“Am I wrong?”
“The only thing you’ve been wrong about so far,” Oberon turned, bringing his body closer, so that Fenrir’s elbow unwittingly brushed against his chest, “is how much attention you seem to think Leviathan Morningstar requires from you.”
“I’m not newly turned.” He wasn’t the only one here who didn’t have all the facts.
Seemingly sensing this was a more serious topic, the alpha straightened, renewing the slight space between them. “When did it happen?”
“When did it start? Or when was it successful?” Bile rose up the back of his throat, and Fenrir took a moment to chase it away with the rest of the contents in his glass. If the alpha noticed his sudden change of mind when it came to drinking, he didn’t mention it. “I was orphaned at fourteen and kidnapped by traders. Eventually, I ended up at the Wardrobe.”
“That’s too young to pimp out.”
“They had me making drug runs for them for the first couple of years,” he said. “At the time, substances like Rebirth were still in the creation phases. It wasn’t until three years later, once I was a legal adult and had…grown into my looks, that it was decided I’d make the perfect candidate for live trials.”
There’d been a group of twenty of them in the beginning, all forced to endure the first stages of an illegal drug that had more cons than pros.
By the end, only he and one other had survived.
“The first year, I could barely crawl out of bed.” Or, more accurately, haul himself off the bedding he’d been assigned, tucked into the corner of the white cell he shared with threeothers. “The second year, they’d made improvements, said my body had adjusted to the initial concoction or whatever. I started skipping my ruts. It left me with a lot of pent-up…anger.”
Alphas and omegas needed to release pheromones regularly, and during ruts and heats was when that process occurred most naturally. When he’d been unable, Fenrir’s hormones had fluctuated, his pheromones seeping from his pores uncontrollably. It’d led to fits of rage and violent outbursts. His first sign of influx that had gone ignored by those in charge of him.
After an episode led to him accidentally murdering another trial subject, Michelle had been brought in. He’d thought for sure she was there to kill him, but instead, she’d taken an interest. A morbid curiosity, so to speak.
He’d hated her, this woman in charge of all his suffering, and yet, she’d quickly become the only balm that could soothe his tormented mind. If he slipped into a rage state, she was the only thing that could pull him back.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out she’d done it on purpose. That she’d found a way to slowly acclimate him to her pheromones, getting him addicted to them so the end result was his need for her to calm.