Even if he couldn’t produce offspring on a planet that desperately needed it, he was still a catch. The alpha was lucky to have him.
…Unless Fenrir had just inadvertently killed him.
Then it’d be his bad.
It seemed like forever before the sounds and sights of the lasers finally came to a stop. Smoke drifted, mingling with the falling snow to create a blanket of sorts that made it difficult to see. Fenrir stayed put, keeping his breathing as even as he was able as he waited. With each passing second, the desperation and worry grew.
He couldn’t remember getting the bite. That wasn’t fair. So much of his life wasn’t fair. Surely the universe wouldn’t take this chance away from him too. Even if the only reason Oberon had claimed him was to get him on the White Frost’s side, Fenrir could accept that.
A nagging tightness in his chest had his restlessness growing, and no longer able to contain it, he started moving. It wasn’t in a Shout’s nature to wait while their partner might be in danger. He’d given it his best shot. That would have to be enough to satisfy his alpha.
The forest settled into relative silence, the sounds of his bare feet crunching in the snow the only thing heard for what seemed like miles. That stillness was only broken by the sudden storm sweeping through the trees as though summoned.
Thick flakes began tumbling from the sky, making it even more difficult to see as Fenrir trudged his way through the woods. Judging by the extreme drop in temperature and the harsh winds, the storm was going to be a bad one. The cold might not affect him, but his alpha was a different story.
If the alpha was dead, what should Fenrir do?
Though he hadn’t given them the chance to, there was no doubt in his mind that those soldiers had been sent to kill him as well. This wasn’t a rescue or retrieval mission, if it had been, they would have come in the dead of night and tried to infiltrate the cottage.
Which meant Michelle must have found out about the claiming bite.
Fen could run. Maybe he’d make it, maybe he wouldn’t. The Wardrobe was definitely after him, but he could get ahead of the White Frost, and after this little light show display, they were clearly the more dangerous of the two. He could head for the docks and barter for a spot on the first ship to literally anywhere.
He could disappear.
And spend the rest of his days as miserable and trapped as he had the past decade.
Hiding and locked away like some hideous creature unfit for society or the basic comforts of life.
Like friends.
Family.
A place to belong.
Was it foolish of him to so desperately want to be accepted by another living soul? Yes.
Was it even more foolish to want to be accepted by Oberon King, a person he wasn’t even sure had a soul to begin with?
Yes times a million.
But the alpha had droppedelevenmillion on Fenrir at the start of all this.
Surely he could take a chance on him, the same way he’d taken a chance on Fen.
Giving him the bite was no light matter. Despite his earlier thoughts, he knew better. Oberon wouldn’t have wasted his once-in-a-lifetime chance at a mate over something like the petty scuffle between the White Frost and the Wardrobe. If this had taught Fenrir anything, it was that Michelle was so far over her head it was laughable.
Some things were sacred, even amongst evil people.
The only reason an alpha would claim an omega was because he wanted to.
Despite hardly knowing one another, Oberon had chosen Fenrir.
For life.
“He can’t die on me.” Fen picked up his pace, feet taking him down the path before he threw caution to the wind and deviated from it.
Relying on his omega instincts, he sniffed at the air, searching for any hint of that familiar alpha scent that always riled him up. There was so much blood that it made it hard at first, but eventually he caught wind of it, following the trail further from the direction of the path.