She pouts. "Why worry about him when you have us?"
The beta on my right kisses my neck. "We can make you forget all about duty, Your Highness."
I should stay. The warm bodies, the alcohol, the simple pleasure of victory. It's exactly what I need after the bloodshed of the past few months. I can’t remember the last time we had a bed to sleep in for the night. But Cillian's absence nags at me.
"Excuse me, ladies." I lift them gently from my lap. “But I need to check on something. Don’t go anywhere.”
I make my way upstairs, telling myself I'm just being cautious. Some rebels could have escaped our sweep. Cillian might be in danger. It's my duty as his commander to ensure his safety.
I know it's bullshit even as I think it. Cillian can handle himself better than anyone I've ever met.
Outside his door, I pause. "Cillian?"
Silence.
I knock. "Cillian, you in there?"
After a long moment, his voice comes through, strained and tight. "Go back downstairs, Logan."
Something's wrong. I've never heard that tone from him before.
"Are you alone?" I ask, hand moving to my sidearm. A rebel could be in there with him now, knife to his throat and coaching this strange response.
"Yes. Just... go enjoy yourself."
My instincts scream danger. "I'm coming in."
"Don't—"
I ram my shoulder against the door. The wood splinters on the second impact, and I burst through, weapon drawn.
The smell hits me first. Sweet, intoxicating, unmistakable. Omega in heat. My body responds instantly, a primal surge of desire that clouds my vision.
Cillian is huddled in the corner, knees drawn to his chest. His uniform is soaked with sweat, his pale hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes, those ice-chip blues, are wide with something I've never seen in them before: fear.
The scent of slick permeates the room, and with dawning horror, I realize it's coming from him.
"Cillian?" My voice sounds distant to my own ears.
"Close the fucking door," he hisses.
I slam the door shut behind me, my hands trembling with shock. Cillian. My guard commander. My closest confidant.
An Omega.
The revelation crashes through me like artillery fire.
"How long have you known?” I manage to ask, my voice barely recognizable.
Cillian won't meet my eyes. "Always."
The single word hangs between us, heavy with implication. Years of shared battles, shared women, shared secrets — and this fundamental truth hidden from me.
"You lied to me." My anger flares, competing with the instinctual pull of his scent. "All this time?"
"I had no choice." He presses himself further into the corner, trying to create distance between us. "You know what happens to male Omegas in the military."
The same thing that happens to male Omegas everywhere.
