As hard as he tried, Fenrir couldn’t even get his fingers to twitch. He was able to blink every so often, just enough to keep his eyes from burning, but that was all he managed. The unsettling truth was, even if he did regain control of his limbs, in his current state, he doubted he’d be able to defend himself successfully.
Oberon King was well-trained and could undoubtedly overpower him on a good day. The only thing Fen really had going for him was his ability, and he’d exhausted that avenue to the point he wasn’t sure he’d be able to summon a single snowflake, let alone enough ice to ward off the alpha.
A calm swept through him then, seeping in through his pores, easing the terror away before it could consume him. With a frown, Fenrir stared at Oberon, realizing with a start that the alpha was releasing soothing pheromones.
Why? Was he keeping his prisoner under control?
Had sleeping together meant nothing to the alpha?
Of course not. Fenrir felt pathetic for even wondering. Oberon had won him at auction. There was nothing real or romantic between the two of them—
Romantic.
…Why did something about that particular word stand out to Fenrir? Almost as though he’d heard it recently.
“You have two minutes,” Fiora said, “and only because you introduced my sister to her future husband at the White Hunt.”
“Poor guy,” Oberon drawled.
“I’m hanging up.”
“I’m joking. I’m joking.”
“You’re down to sixty seconds, Purse.”
“I need a list of all known species that can control the elements and are genetically compatible with our kind,” Oberon told her in a rush. “If you could message me—”
“No need,” she interrupted. “It’s a short list. That type of power has mostly died off or phased out through evolution as societies advanced. On their own, there weren’t many to begin with, but when you factor in that you’re looking for species that can procreate with us, things dwindle further.”
“Tell me.” Oberon stared at Fenrir.
“The Ilnac. The Blithe. Setoris. Some Connects. Shouts—”
“Stop.” The alpha’s eyes flashed triumphantly. “That one. That’s the one.”
Had he noted something on Fenrir’s face? How?
“You’re trying to bag a Shout? That’s ill-advised.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Shouts are considered a dominant species originating from a planet called Ignite. In their prime, their setup was similar to ours. A strong Shout fought others for the chance to mate with a Whisper—sort of like their version of an omega, to put it in layman’s terms. The blood of a Whisper couldsupposedly boost a Shout’s power, especially if a bond was created between them.”
“Bond?”
“Exactly like ours,” Fiora explained. “The Shout bit the Whisper during copulation, tying their energy patterns together. Unlike with us, they could apparently feel this connection on some level, and the bite had to be accepted.”
“Sounds like what happens between Connects,” Oberon surmised.
“You know about Connects?” she hummed, clearly impressed and completely forgetting about the original timeline she’d given him now that the topic interested her. “You aren’t incorrect. We have pheromones, whereas species like the Connect and the Shouts/Whispers function through energy control. The bond between my omega and me is very real, but I can’t physically feel it as a separate entity or rope linking us together. Shouts and Connects can, and describe it as an awareness of a sudden pull securing them to another lifeforce or source of energy.”
Oberon tipped his head, but Fenrir could no longer place his expression.
He didn’t understand why they were discussing this so thoroughly. He also couldn’t figure out how Oberon had known he was a Shout. Fen couldn’t move a single muscle; there was no way he’d given himself away.
“You don’t have an omega, Fiora,” Oberon drawled.
“It was an example.”