“And the omega from half a year ago?” Oberon dared ask, mostly because he felt secure in the distance currently separating the two of them. “He didn’t make the cut?”
“He’s Kian’s younger brother,” he reminded.
“So what? As if that could stop you if you wanted him.”
“I don’t.”
“Then why all the moping?” O pushed off the wall and turned for the kitchen. If Fenrir did wake soon, he’d most likely be starving. Fortunately, Oberon had the good sense to order the staff to clean and stock the place while he and his omega had made the long drive. Fully prepared meals lined the fridge,ready to be heated and consumed. “The anger has been gone for a while, but you can’t seem to shake this gloom.”
He pulled a meal from the fridge and got the oven ready as he waited for the Dominus to collect his thoughts and respond.
“Things changed when we found out he lost the baby,” Levi eventually admitted, though it was obvious he didn’t want to. That he wished this conversation wasn’t happening.
Perhaps this was something he should be discussing with Baal, since the two of them were arguably closer than he was with O, but since O was the one here, finally getting him to share…
“It’s not like you’ve ever wanted children,” he reminded.
“Still.” Levi growled, frustrated, either with himself, the situation, or everything. “I feel…bad.”
Oberon paused. “Are you saying you’re experiencing guilt?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
“I’m not the one being strange here,” Oberon said. “How many people do you currently have our Butcher torturing?”
“I’ve lost count. At least five.”
“Yet you’re telling me you feel guilty about some stranger miscarrying on another planet?”
“Don’t downplay it. You know it’s more complex than that.”
When Oberon had located Levi and sent Baal and the others to rescue him, he’d never imagined they’d find their Dominus high and mid rut. The party who’d broken into his cell while Baal and the others dealt with the larger threats had been understandably caught off guard, and in their frantic haste to remove Levi from danger, they’d foolishly made the call to leave the omega who’d been locked up with him behind.
Levi had been furious when he’d come too and realized. Had slain all four of those White Frost soldiers in his fury. It’d taken months before they’d been able to get the name of the omega he’d been forced to share a rut with, but by then, it’d been too late to do much of anything.
The omega, as it turned out, had also been rescued only a day later. That should have been enough to quell whatever odd guilt Levi had felt toward the man left behind, but his identity had shattered any chance of that.
Shiloh Sobu, also known as the Prince of Eumia.
Their rival.
“If this is bothering you so much, might I suggest a trip to Glyph?” Oberon didn’t know what else to say. Didn’t know how to help him.
“And risk a run-in with Kian before we’re ready to make our move?” Levi clicked his tongue. “No, when next we meet, it’ll be because I’m wiping the Eumia Mafia off the map. Acquiring the Wardrobe will put us one step closer to that goal.”
Kian, the Dominus of the Eumia and Shiloh’s older brother, had notoriously dismantled the illegal flesh trade routes between their two planets. With the help of the Imperial family of Glyph and Synastry, he’d cleaned the streets of decades of built-up sludge and human waste.
The White Frost dealt in loans and money laundering, had steered clear of the sex trade industry themselves. But that also meant they hadn’t done anything to try and put a stop to it. It wasn’t until after Levi had been forced to experience it on a personal level that their ideology on the matter had changed.
Whether or not Kian realized he’d had help from the shadows was unclear, but the Leviathan hadn’t done it for recognition anyway.
He hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart, either.
“Taking over the Wardrobe is hardly as impressive as unraveling the trades,” Oberon pointed out. “Seems like a waste of time, if you ask me.”
“Do you think your new omega would agree with that statement?” Levi drawled, and O was forced to consider that warning.
Fenrir had been taken from the streets at a young age, groomed and made a slave. Forced to endure chemical and medical trials until his presentation had been permanently altered from alpha to omega. For someone like Oberon, who put so much weight in his primal instincts, that concept was horrifying.