“You’re trying too hard to seem strong,” the alpha murmured, his fingers moving lazily through Ehlian’s hair, curious and unhurried. “Yet you won’t even look an alpha in the eye. They’ll tear you apart in here, kid.”
“I’m not a kid.”
“Then stop acting like one.” The alpha’s tone sharpened. “Look at me.”
Ehlian hesitated. He knew the risk of his own rule—keeping his eyes down forever wasn’t realistic. Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted his gaze.
And everything else vanished.
The room dimmed around him, every detail fading into a haze except the alpha’s eyes. Deep brown, scattered with amber flecks like sparks from a fire, they shimmered with magnetic brilliance.
Arox alphas and omegas were born with eyes unlike any others. The natural brilliance of their irises mirrored their telepathic power, the most sacred part of their existence. Ehlian’s own green eyes, streaked with bluish dots, shared the same magnetic beauty. And yet, caught in those intense ember depths, he felt stripped bare.
But the mesmerising beauty hid a danger, a weakness: Aroxans bonded through their eyes. However resilient their wills and mental shields were, here amongst soulless criminals, any omega could be bewitched, possessed, tamed.
“Was that so hard?” The alpha’s voice broke through the haze, soft but cutting. “See? You’re still alive and unmated.”
Ehlian blinked, and the room sharpened back into focus. The alpha’s face came into clear view: dark, neatly combed hair, sharp features, and an easy, almost smug air. Yet his strikingly handsome face belonged on the cover of a magazine, not here.
And then it hit him.
Hayce Cartivair.
Heir to the Cartivair empire.
Dangerous. Unpredictable.
Second-born to the Cartivair commercial dynasty, Hayce was no ordinary criminal. After his father had threatened to cut him out of his will, he tried to turn him into a puppet. Losingcontrol of his anger, the damage went beyond manipulation. Hayce had fractured his father’s mind and telepathic core, shattering them with such force that it cost him his life.
Ehlian’s voice wavered as he spat, “Will you make me your puppet too?”
The atmosphere darkened instantly.
Hayce’s telepathic power swirled like a storm, invisible waves that slammed into Ehlian’s senses. His fingers gripped Ehlian’s hair tighter, and for a heartbeat, it felt as though he would break.
But just as swiftly, the storm passed.
Hayce let go, stepping back toward the bar and opened the bottle Ehlian had threatened him with minutes earlier. He poured two glasses and handed one to Ehlian.
Reluctantly, Ehlian accepted. He swallowed it in one swing, the alcohol burning his throat pleasantly.
“I don’t care who you are,” Ehlian finally said, his voice cold. “I’ll never be your fuck toy.”
Hayce let out a faint, dismissive hum.
He could hum all he liked. Ehlian meant it. “Is there only one bed?”
“You didn’t bring yours?” Hayce replied smoothly.
Ehlian glared. “Lost it on the way. Must be floating in space.”
“Then yes,” Hayce said, humouring him. “Only one bed.”
“I’m not sleeping in the same bed with you.”
“Then sleep on the floor.” Hayce lay back down on the bed, flipping his book open. “I don’t care.”
After pacing the room for a while and scoffing at its ridiculous luxury, he found the farthest corner and lay down on the carpet. It was cold and hard, but better than sharing a bed.
