As the iron gates creaked open, Elias breathed in the aroma of icy stone.
More ceremonial than necessary, chains rattled around his ankles and wrists—the point was that. This was not a prisoner's entrance. It was a performance. A programme. The Omega was being given to the throne as a shame-wrapped gift.
He focused his gaze on the ground, as they had instructed him. Not too low to appear defiant, not high enough to challenge. Still. Silent. Send.
Filled with courtiers, soldiers, and predators hung in silk and gold, the great hall lay before him. With curiosity, hunger, or disgust, they all turned toward him. Some leaned in to speak sotto voce. Some people smirked.
Elias clenched his jaw.
Please encourage them to look.
King Auren sat atop the marble steps of the throne at the far end.
The youngest king in history. Born of war and reared in steel, an Alpha. Crowned with a past of blood, betrayal, and the ability to rule armies with a single instruction.
And now, Elias was his.
As the guards stopped him a few steps from the throne, his cold bare feet felt cold against the stone. Though his knees trembled, he kept himself from falling. Not in front of them. Not in front of him.
The herald called, "Present the offering."
Elias's head lifted.
Just once.
Just enough to see the man who held his chains.
And their eyes met.
King Auren resembled no monster. Not the way they described him. His expression was impenetrable, cut from calm authority rather than cruelty. Sharp and intellectual, his dark hair just grazed over his eyes. It caught him off guard, though, was the way he looked at Elias.
He wasn't enthralled.
He found no humor.
He seemed irritable.
Auren commanded, "Remove the collar."
Hall's gasps resonated. Elias stiffened.
The guard wavered, "Your Majesty, he's— unbound." He hasn't been claimed. He might—
"I say, I'd take it away."
The security officer complied.
Metal clicked. The collar dropped.
Elias was also able to breathe for the first time in years.
The moment stretched too long. Too subdued.
Auren then got up from the throne and steadily descended the stairs, every footfall echoing in the thick air. He halted right in front of Elias.
Not near enough to threaten. But near enough to communicate, so he could just hear.
The king stated, "You are not a dog," adding, "Hence, I will not treat you like one."
Elias's heart pounded in his chest.
He ignored it. He would never consider it.
"Guards," Auren commanded, "take him to the east wing. Give him quarters. Not until I say, he is not to be touched."
One more wave of whispers.
Elias did not look back as the guards carried him out.
Still, long after the doors closed behind him, he could sense Auren watching over his skin.
Adam chased Crown Prince Lev along the hallway, which was silent. His footprints were less loud than the king's,s; not because he wished to be quiet. It was custom; it had been ingrained in him from an early age. Omegas were intended to walk gently, to be undetectable unless addressed. Lev, meanwhile, always noticed him.
The guards outside didn't even blink as they arrived at the prince's secret room. They just opened the door without comment, bowing. Nobody ever challenged Lev. He was the northern throne's Alpha heir. Gorgeous, ruthless, unattainable.
Inside, the room smelled somewhat of leather-bound volumes and burning cedar. Lev turned his back on Adam and shed his cloak onto a chair. At first, he said nothing. Rather, he strolled to the window and stood there for an extended period, watching the moon paint the courtyard in silver.
Head bowed slightly, hands clasped, Adam stood immobile by the door. He felt the force of Lev's aroma, dominant and strong. Rich like clove, crisp like winter. It overwhelmed his senses.
Lev said eventually, not turning aboutYouou are tense.
No, Your Highness.
You are lying.
Adam stayed quiet.
At last, Lev turned toward Narrowedow with curiosity rather than rage; his amber eyes shone in the candlelight. Come here.
Adam obeyed. He came slowly and stopped a few feet from me. In two steps, Lev closed the area between them.
With gloved fingertips, he lifted Adam's chin and studied him like looking for defects. "You're not wearing the suppressants."
Adam halted. "I ran out."
Lev turned his head and smiled slowly, curling his lips. "How careless."
"I was not intending to—"
"You reek of Omega heat," Lev interrupted, his voice a murmur, but his hand slid away from Adam's chin and down his neck. "You think I don't notice the way the guards look at you when you pass by?"
"I don't want anyone to," Adam responded in a low voice. "I don't."
Good, Lev murmured, thumb caressing Adam's jaw. "Because I'll have their eyes gouged out before they even consider touching what's mine."
Adam shook from the force of those words, not from terror.
He ought to have grown used to it. Lev consistently talked in that manner. Possessive. Cold. Brutally frank. Tonight, however, something altered. The way he touched him. His eyes softened, just a little.
"Do you want me to have someone come for the suppressants?" Lev inquired suddenly, backing back.
"No," Adam said hastily. Then stopped. "I mean... It's not needed. I'll manage."
Lev's jaw tightened. "You shouldn't have to 'manage.'"
His voice was peculiar. Like dissatisfaction, but not with Adam. More like with himself.
Adam was unable to grasp it. Wasn't Lev meant to be heartless? That's what everyone claimed. A weapon in royal flesh. Sharp like steel; cold like snow.
With Adam, though, he wasn't.
"Sit," Lev commanded, pointing to the velvet settee near the fireplace. Adam sat down. Lev drew two glasses of amber from a crystalline decanter. He gave one to Adam, who paused.
"I don't drink," Adam stated.
"You do now."
Adam embraced it.
The first sip felt scorched. Lev observed him with a furrowed eyebrow. "You're too fragile for this court," he said after a silence. "Too soft."
"I did not request to be here."
"No. Your father sold you here."
That reality pierced deeper than the alcohol.
Once a little noble, Adam's father had lost everything to gaming, he presented his son—the lovely, rareborn Omega—to the palace in compensation. - Like a pet. One prize.
Lev had told him the day he arrived.
"I was meant to be a concubine," Adam said harshly.
"You still are," Lev said, voice chilly once more. "But you belong with me. Not theirs.
They fell silent.
Then Lev started once more. He kneeled before Adam, which stunned the Omega.
Lev muttered, setting his glass down, "But your shackles are heavier." "My crown is heavy."
Adam tightened his throat. "Why do you keep me here, Lev?"
"Because you're the only thing in this palace that doesn't lie to me," Lev's hand reached out once more, fingertips brushed Adam's wrist where the silver chain bracelet lay—a sign of his status.
Adam was at a loss for words in response to that.
Lev got and leaned in, close enough for Adam to sense the warmth of his breath. "Let them converse. Let them whisper beneath their sleeves. They will never be allowed to take you.
Then, suddenly, Lev slammed his mouth to Adam's.
It wasn't a greedy kiss. Not completely. It was firm but not abrasive. Short but not pointless. He said nothing as he retracted.
Adam's heart thudded in his breast.
Lev turned away, his expression illegible once more. "You should sleep here tonight. It's more secure.
And just like that, the moment passed.
Lev approached Adam's desk; Adam remained seated on the settee. The fireplace cracked between them. Lev's fragrance was still lingering in the air. His heart kept pounding.
He knew better than to fall for a king.
Particularly, a prince with daggers crowning his eyes guaranteed both devastation and protection.
It was already too late, though.
He was chained—and maybe, just maybe, he did not want to be free.