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“It’s time for you to find an omega to marry,” his old man had said.
The old wolf hadn’t been joking, either. Tiberius was nineteen, and an alpha, so he was well aware that mating with a suitable omega and producing offspring was his duty, but hell, he thought he had a couple of years left before he was tied down with brats of his own.
He was still studying, for fuck’s sake, at the prestigious military and business Howl Academy that his fathers and forefathers had attended, taking military shifter history and politics, marketing and economics, all that was required to inherit the family business and be a worthy son.
The business his beta brother Emanuel understood perfectly and wanted to manage, but couldn’t, because the Tiberius was alpha, and alphas had responsibilities.
Fuck. Like this goddamn marriage thing—
“Ty, what’s up, man?” Marcus approached in long strides and lifted his hand to high-five him, then lowered it with a grimace. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Nothing.”
“The hell you say. What did your dad do this time?”
Heat spread up Tiberius’s neck. “Nothing. He’s not—”
“Ty.” Shrewd dark eyes glared at him from a lean, handsome face. “Talk to me. Come on, man.”
But Tiberius dragged his hair away from his face and turned away. “Not in the mood. Leave me the fuck alone.”
“No way. Coming with ya.”
He bumped Tiberius’s shoulder companionably and started telling him about the new videogame he’d got, describing the weapons and the races. On any given day, Tiberius would’ve let his friend distract him, but it wasn’t working this time.
On the way to the alpha salon, they collected Nero, their quiet third wheel, and headed straight for their corner.
Alphas had their own sitting area with a cafeteria and bar. They owned the Academy, and the world. The salon was a symbol of that. Omegas served them for credits. Betas remained in the general cafeteria of the Academy, unless their status changed.
Tiberius sank in the plush velvet chair and pressed the button to call an omega to serve them drinks. He’d probably skip classes today. Get buzzed, or stoned, or both, and forget his duties for a few hours.
Tugging his black military jacket open, rubbing at his clan’s brand on the side of his neck out of habit, he leaned back. The collar of his shirt felt stifling, so he popped a few buttons, too.
That’s when the silence at the table hit him. It was Nero, who was quieter than usual. He was rubbing at the faint scar on his cheek, a scar he always refused to talk about, and had a dark look in his green eyes.
“What’s up, pup?” Tiberius muttered. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
“None of your business,” Nero snarled.
“Oh, I see. It’s one of those days, huh? Cheer up, man.”
“Shut up, Ty. Not all of us were weaned off unicorn teats and fart rainbows when we walk.”
“Damn. It is one of those days. Joy.” Tiberius glanced around. At least he’d get some food and drink in him. “Where are all the omegas? Is nobody available today?”
“Told you that you should have taken a Boi on,” Marcus muttered, shoving a chestnut strand of hair out of his eyes. “You can afford it, unlike me.”
“That’s what happens when you throw your money away on Lotus Academy events and parties,” Tiberius said darkly. “Besides, I told you, I don’t want a Boi following me around like a fucking pet.”
“Why not? Lots of pretty omegas have just come in. Betcha lots of them need the credits and would do just about anything for them.” Marcus winked at him and licked his lips. “Anything, my friend.”
It reminded Tiberius of the old wolf’s words and he scowled. “Fuck off.”
A “Boi” was what the folks at Howl Academy called a “kept” omega: an omega you paid to be your servant, following you when you weren’t in class to fulfill your every desire. Those consisted mostly of running to buy the alpha drinks and cigarettes, serve the booze, clean up, things like that, though it was a well-known fact, as Marcus had remarked, that often it went beyond that and Bois were often used for sexual pleasure.
Some alphas were turned on by desperation.
Not Tiberius. Besides, what if he got an omega pregnant? The wrong omega, not the high-born his father wanted him to marry? That would be a spectacular failure in his filial duties.
And he didn’t care for having a brat to take care of. God fuck, what had gotten into the old wolf’s head? Alphas were expected to finish the Academy and then take their time before creating a family.
“Are we getting a fucking drink or what?” Nero muttered, dragging his fingers through his white-blond short hair. “I need to knock myself out.”
Shooting him a concerned look, Tiberius pressed the button again, then decided he’d had enough and got up to grab a passing omega by the arm.
“You!” he growled. “You’re serving us. Move.”
The omega let out a surprised oof as Tiberius hauled him to their corner and stood swaying as he was released, dark hair falling in his eyes like silken tassels.
Tiberius sank back in his chair and flicked a finger at the omega. “Burgers, bloody. A bottle of Scotch and a box of Cubans. Lots of ice. And some weed, if you find it, but only if it’s good quality. Here.” He pulled out a wad of bills and pushed them over the table. “Should be enough to cover it all.”
The omega blinked as he reached for the money. He had very long dark lashes, Tiberius noted idly, over very blue eyes.
Pretty.
And clueless. A total newbie from the looks of it. Delicate and slender, with creamy skin and soft, tousled dark hair, he stood there uncertainly in his omega tunic—a soft, half-transparent habit with white pants underneath.
And then the scent hit him. Sweet and musky, it curled inside Tiberius, getting his dick unbearably hard and his balls tight.
What was this? A quick glance at the others showed him they weren’t getting aroused like he was. Was that scent coming from the omega? It couldn’t be the omega being in heat if the other alphas weren’t affected.
“Boi, go get!” Marcus slapped him on the ass, making him blush, and the omega turned and hurried away, presumably to do their bidding.
Leaving Tiberius achingly hard and wondering and pissed as hell.
“Don’t touch him again,” he ground out. “Ever again. Hear me?”
“Hm...Interesting,” Marcus said.
“What is?”
“What you just said. And the way you look at him. Haven’t seen you pay attention to any omega until this one, and there’s plenty of pretty faces around, though you generally don’t seem to notice.”
“Dunno what the fuck you’re talking about,” Tiberius grunted.
“Don’t you, now...”
Tiberius huffed and ran his hands through his hair. “I just hope he brings the drinks quickly. I need a hit and I need it now.”
***
The omega did indeed return quickly with what they ordered—minus the weed. Then again, being newbie, he wouldn’t know where to get it just yet. He balanced the glasses and bottle and the pack of cigars in his arms, managing to settle everything down on the low table without breaking. He was out of breath. His cheeks were flushed, making his blue eyes look brighter, and—
Why the hell was Tiberius noticing such things now?
Fuck, Marcus was right, this was interesting in an unsettling way. An uncomfortable way. Tiberius winces as he shifted in his seat, still unbearably hard. What the fuck, right? He wasn’t twelve anymore, to sprout erections at the drop of a hat. Pretty eyes, pretty omega—sure, yeah. Still not enough to get him hard on most days.
Marcus was unbuttoning his jacket, too, but that had probably to do with the heating inside the salon—or the omegas moving among the tables. With his dark blond hair slicked back, his dark eyes, his wide shoulders and strong body, he never had trouble finding a bed warmer. None of them did. It was just that all the talk about families and babies had put a damper on Tiberius’s libido.
Which sucked big time.
“Boi, what’s your name?”
It was Nero asking, and fuck him for asking before Tiberius had a chance to open his damn mouth and ask first.
“My name’s Reese, alpha.” The omega bowed his head, that silky dark hair sliding over his eyes, hiding them. “Of Clan Saber.”
God damn, he was cute.
“Clan Saber,” Nero muttered. “Are you by any chance related to Lord Ailey?”
A flash of wide blue eyes. “Yes, alpha. He’s my uncle.”
Nero nodded. “You look like him.”
Tiberius frowned. “The alpha lord who won the Grand Tournament ten years ago, against the bewitched weredragon and the Fae knight?”
“The very same.” Nero looked pleased with himself. “A good clan.”
The color on the omega’s smooth cheeks deepened. “My lords, alphas, do you need me for anything else, or will you pay and allow me to go?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Tiberius heard himself say as if from a distance. “You’ll be my Boi, starting from now. So get yourself down here, at my feet, omega, and obey my wishes.”