But his body needed a break, a real one, no matter how fantastic it felt to experience a true knot.
Their first game had passed quickly, mostly because Fenrir had spent it getting a read on Oberon’s play style. He’d let the alpha win, but only the once.
The second game was stretching into hour number four, and his alpha was now understandably getting frustrated.
“Iamgood that this,” Oberon growled. “I was head of the savage club at university. I’m a member of the Glass Society!”
“Impressive.” He wasn’t mocking him, he really meant it.
The Glass Society was a club that required a hefty membership fee and a qualifying level of skill. As the oldest savage club in the galaxy, they prided themselves on their ranking and only extended invitations to join to those who’d made a noticeable mark in the gaming community.
“The real question is, why are you so good?” Oberon challenged, sliding one of his circular, light blue glass pieces diagonally to the left three spaces.
“My grandparents had an old set,” Fen moved to block him as he explained. “It was the only thing my grandfather andI could do together without fighting. Sportsmanship was very important to him, believe it or not.”
Ironic that the guy who’d used illegal substances and skimmed funds off the top also looked down on sore losers.
“There’s one at the estate as well. Sometimes, I can convince one of the servants to play with me.”
“What about when you can’t?” Oberon asked. “Michelle won’t?”
“She and Trick play all the time.”
“They leave you out?”
He shook his head. “I turn her down. Nothing good will come of letting her deeper into my psyche. You can learn a lot about a person based on how they maneuver in a game like savage.” The corner of his mouth curved up. “And how they handle being matched against a strong opponent.”
“For the record,” the alpha drawled, “I enjoy that you’re skilled. It’s just, if I’d known it would take this long, I never would have suggested it in the first place.”
“Why? Something else you wanted to do?”
“Judging from your tone, you know exactly what’s on my mind.” Oberon captured two of Fenrir’s pieces in one move and winked at him.
“No more screwing. My back can’t take it.” He considered going easy on the alpha in an attempt to sway him, but decided against it.
Oberon’s eyes narrowed as he watched one of his pieces get taken before Fenrir positioned his Royal Consort in a dangerous spot. “How about a bet? If you win, you can fuck me. If I win, I can fuck you.”
“I don’t want to mount you, King.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Better idea,” he offered. “If I win, you cook lunch. If you win I—”
“Let me fuck you against the counter.”
Fenrir glared. “Is that all you can think about?”
“We’re still in the mating period,” Oberon reminded. “The more pheromones we exchange, the healthier it is for both of us. It strengthens the bond. Don’t you feel better than you have in years?”
“Oh, so you’re doing this for my benefit.” He didn’t buy that for a second.
“It’s a factor,” the alpha insisted. “Of course I want my omega to be happy and healthy. Well? How do you feel? Any concerns? Any signs of influx?”
“No.” He waited for Oberon to make his next move, contemplating, and then took his turn. “Everything has regulated itself. This is my new normal, so I shouldn’t have to worry about influx again. Unless you die, that is. Or are severely injured and so bedridden that pheromone exchange isn’t possible for a long period of time. Or you get erectile dysfunction. Or—”
Oberon held up a hand, stopping him. “Okay, I think we get it. You can stop listing all the horrible things that can potentially befall me now.”
He shrugged and cornered the alpha’s Emperor. “Still want to bet?”