Interminable waiting.
Strangely, though, the endless anticipation only heightened my excitement when I finally received word that she was ready to be brought to me by my harem.
I am fond of my Beta courtesans, but now I have a new plaything.
One who can bear my heirs.
I don’t usually dress in my armor unless we’re going to battle, but I wanted to make an impression. If she pleases me, this Omega will be my mate for life, and we will be spending a lot of time together. I wanted to give her a glimpse of her good fortune; what a splendid mate she is lucky enough to be getting.
But she did not seem very impressed. Or grateful.
She is not the Omega I was expecting.
Her hair is golden, but it barely grazes her shoulders. Her face is pretty enough, I suppose, but she is so small, I fear I would break her during the rut. And a little too slender for my liking. Narrow hips, small, pointy breasts… I prefer my females to be more curvaceous. More feminine.
Not to mention more submissive.
She is defiant, disrespectful, and demanding. Not qualities I will accept in a mate. Khan made his Omega his queen, hismajesta, and allows her to rule at his side—at least in name. But I will keep Kim as a proper Omega. I will use her during the rut, and leave her in the pleasure house the rest of the time, with the other courtesans. She will be coddled and spoiled, and become content. One way or the other, she will learn her place.
Her reaction to me is pleasing. When I removed my helmet and she saw my face, her pupils dilated. She was unable to hide her attraction.
And now, the serum must be taking hold. She’s going into estrus.
She lets out a moan as her eyes widen. She glances down, then back up at me.
Her scent hits me like an axe to the skull. Sweet. Floral. Intoxicating as honeyed wine. It travels up my body as if I were stepping into a bath, and a lust unlike any I’ve ever known overcomes me in an instant.
My cock is rigid, pounding. The blood is roaring in my ears. Everything around me—where I am, who I am—fades into the background until all that exists is the little peach and gold female standing a few feet away. Her scent. The look on her face.
I must have her. Now.
A growl rumbles out of me. I’ve never growled for an Omega before, but it’s as natural as breathing. My chest vibrates with the thunderous sound, and it has an immediate effect on the Hoo-man, who lets out another stunned moan, and takes a step back.
My armor is too tight. Ulf damn my pride. Why did I try to impress my Omega? I should have worn something simple. I tear at my breastplate. I need to move freely. As I remove the golden pieces, a rich scent rolls off my skin in waves. There is no doubt about it. I am in rut.
The Omega is aroused. Her face is flushed, her lips have grown redder. I find myself attuned to every little nuance of her. The sweet, musky scent of her slick reaches my nostrils, and I suppress a groan of longing. My balls feel heavy, full, taut. A delicious, weighted desire coils in my gut like a snake.
“Come here,” I manage, tugging off the last bit of my armor, leaving me only in my greaves and the tunic I wear beneath the heavy plate.
Her eyes are cloudy with lust as her gaze drops to my chest, then lower, then back up to my face. Her protest is barely audible, but I hear it. “No.”
She takes another step back.Wrong way, little Omega.
There are guards posted outside the door. She cannot escape me. Her resistance is fascinating. When was the last time a female—or anyone—denied me what I wanted?
Even so, a part of me wants her to want this.
To wantme.
She turns to flee but I anticipated this, and am too quick for her. She’s barely taken a single step before my arms are around her, hoisting her into the air and tugging her against my chest. Her back is to me, and she’s kicking furiously.
Every time she parts her legs, another wave of her musk ratchets up my desire. But she’s straining herself, and I do not want her to cause herself harm.
“Do not fight,” I say, carrying her through the hidden doorway and into my private bedchambers. She weighs nothing. Her upper body is pinned against me, with my arms folded across her chest and arms, but her legs are still scissoring like she’s trying to run away.
“Fuck you,” she spits, wriggling with all her might.
“That’s not very polite.” My cock feels huge, straining towards my belly. It would be so easy to simply push it up between her legs—but I will rein in my rut and go slowly. I will make our first time good for her. To do that, I need to learn her. What she likes. What she dislikes. What makes her moan instead of curse.
