“Say that again if you come out of this without turning into an ice sculpture.”
Oberon narrowed his eyes. “Did you read his file?”
The backyard was covered in a thick layer of snow, a blanket of white leading to the edge of the forest that connected Oberon’s property with the main part of town. On warm summer days, he often used it as a shortcut, enjoying the sounds of nature and the smell of pine as he went.
He wondered how Fenrir felt about that sort of thing. If he’d been cooped up for years, would he now prefer wide open spaces?
The mansion was huge, but would it be enough to satisfy him?
What if his omega refused to be good?
“If you’d told me you did this as part of a scheme to enlist him into the family, I would believe you,” Koah said, pulling O from his wandering thoughts. “Only you, since taking a mate never seemed to be of interest. He’s got a body count impressive enough to rival half of our soldiers. It isn’t pretty either. The causes of death are brutal, even by my standards.”
“What about Fiora’s?”
Koah snorted. “Her? Butchers are a different breed, you know that. Did Baal tell you he caught her playing in literal entrails at the White Hunt?”
Oberon blinked. “…No.”
“Well, he did. While the rest of us were chasing tail, she’d taken down one of the offerings and torn him apart. Said something about needing a test subject.”
He turned and glanced back the way he’d come.
Perhaps he’d keep Fenrir and Fiora apart for a while. Having been a test subject himself, Oberon couldn’t see Fenrir taking to the Butcher any time soon.
“What’s gotten into you, anyway?” Koah asked. “Taking an omega? This suddenly?”
“When you know you know.”
“Bullshit. Fated mates are a fairytale.”
“I am the King of the Fairies.” That’s what Fenrir called him, though it was meant to be done so mockingly. “Let’s just say I fell for him, so I took him. Problem?”
“Yeah, the shitstorm you now have on your hands because of that pesky impulsiveness you’re known for. Out ofall the products you could have fucked, it just had to be Fenrir Snow. Guy is a mess, and I’m talking even before he was picked up by the Wardrobe. Raised by his grandparents, always in trouble at school. He was almost expelled several times. Then grandma and grandpa both died within the same month of each other from illness, leaving him on his own.”
Oberon closed the sliding door and flicked the lock back into place. “How old was he?”
“Fourteen,” Koah confirmed the story Fenrir had told days ago. “Grandpa pissed off the wrong person and got Fenrir dragged to the Wardrobe. Lower levels at the time. They took him in as a soldier of sorts. Had him run errands for them. Do grunt work.”
“How’d he end up a test subject?”
“Looks like it was a random selection. The Wardrobe pulled anyone who wasn’t considered essential personnel and tricked them into it. Pretty disgusting behavior. I can’t believe it hasn’t come to bite them in the ass sooner.”
“Probably because most of their earlier trials failed,” Oberon figured.
“You’re right. My informant has been feeding us information about that for months now. The first three years of the medical trials, only your omega survived.”
“Fiora’s theory is that Michelle used her alpha pheromones to influence Fenrir while he was at his most vulnerable.” There was a question there he was hesitant to put voice to, but Koah read between the lines all on his own.
“Are you asking if he was really still product the night of the auction? Yes.” He continued before O could feel any sense of relief, adding, “But just because he wasn’t made pack, doesn’t mean he wasn’t working for her.”
“Explain.”
Koah blew out a breath. “Ever heard of the Wolf?”
This again.
He really had chosen the most complicated omega on the planet.