Then Syl.
Syl was a beta and furious about it. It was Arden’s fault. He’d hissed at Arden that if only he hadn’t spent so much time with a stupid, weak omega, then he’d have presented alpha, too. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Arden. Stay away from me. Stayaway.” He’d slammed out of Arden’s parlour and never set foot in it again.
He didn’t respond to Arden’s notes, either.
Arden sneaked down after dinner one night, determined to clear the air between them and assure him that it didn’t worklike that, but Syl refused to listen. He shoved past him, knocking the breath out of Arden and almost sending him to the floor.
It was unfortunate that Lassit, who lived in Sevennis most of the time by then, was there to see it.
He threw himself at Syl with a snarl and the pair of them brawled in the marble hall like the stable lads often did outside, only it wasn’t for fun, and no one was smiling, and instead of cheering on the sidelines and exchanging good-natured bets, the servants had to wade in to separate them.
Dahli ignored him. Syl was cruel. And when his older brothers looked at him, there was a darkness to them that Arden didn’t understand.
It was only now, having enjoyed his first taste of freedom at Avendene, that he finally understood why his parents had coddled and sequestered him the way they had, only allowing him to socialise under their very strict supervision whenever they held house parties in the summer or over Yule.
They were trying to prevent him going into heat for an alpha, like he’d done for Beckett.
They were trying to prevent Ardenneedingan alpha, like he’d needed Beckett.
Arden hadn’t just needed it, he’dlovedit, being tucked beneath Beckett’s large, powerful body. Taking him. Asking for more.
He’d loved the kissing most of all. He’d wanted to try kissing Beckett other than on his mouth. He’d wanted to test the straining, sleek muscles that moved over him so devastatingly with his lips, to dust kisses down his limbs, to follow the hard ridges over his long torso down to?—
But—
But what if Arden was a normal omega, and he’d gone into heat at Dalbryn years ago as he should have done?
Beckett wouldn’t have been there.
Jack wouldn’t have been there.
Who would have helped him?
Would they given him a choice, like Marl did when he explained what was happening?
Would they have given him to a stranger? Or to one of the local alphas he vaguely knew? Or…?
No.No. He wouldn’t have wanted it.
Hewouldn’thave.
His heart pounded in his chest and his mouth dried out with panic. His breathing came short and fast.
Now that he was safe, the constant whisper of danger that he’d ignored for years, the one that had lingered at the back of his mind since Clarke had pushed him down and lain on top of him, clamoured louder and louder.
He flung the bedclothes back and was across the room to the door, the handle icy cold in his heated grip, before he even realised what he was doing.
He was out in the corridor before he even gave thought as to whether he was decent or not.
By then it was too late. His heart was drumming in his chest as if it was trying to escape. He wanted one thing, and one thing only: his alpha.
He didn’t even think. He knew exactly where he was going. He’d explored every inch of Jack’s immense house, and he darted down the corridor to Jack’s private apartments, threw open the door, rushed across the room and scrambled onto the bed.
He pressed his shaking body against the tall, solid form, burrowing as close as possible.
Still not safe.
He turned over, backing into the hard, hot curve of muscle and grabbed a strong, thick arm with his cold fingers, wrapping it around his waist. He squeezed his eyes shut and told himselfthat Jack would forgive him the impropriety of climbing into his bed uninvited.
