“Wonderful. I need not send the missive I was planning. I’ll accept their arrangement. Your firstborn son will be forfeited to the Heulwen and raised as theirs. Your secondborn will have firstborn rights to the Eclipse. We best arrange a ceremony so you two can start on it. Two-hundred-fifty-three years old and still unwed.”
Marquis stood there, watching a perfectly compatible omega be stripped from him the moment they matched. “Father?”
“You’re dismissed, Marquis. Baron has taken his right. Perhaps you will have better luck searching out an unfamiliar omega or a female. I can’t see you being particular.” Arthur’s jab left Marquis hollow inside.
“Damien. It was lovely to meet you. Do you wish for this match?” Marquis didn’t want the omega to slip from his grasp unprotested, especially if he didn’t want to.
The lovely omega’s face slid into a bitter glare, as two-faced as Marquis ever dreamed of being. “If it’s all the same, the next in line for coven head is more befitting of my station.”
He sneered and idly Marquis wondered if Baron had planned it, getting his hopes up. Baron had interfered with every potential spouse he’d ever met, so it seemed a fittingprankhe’d play.
In the days leading up to Baron and Damien’s ceremony, it was decided that renovations needed to be done to the family wing of the house. Marquis was to be moved to Baron’s former suite and the main family wing of the house was to go to Baron and Damien to house their eventual children.
He’d barely moved into the room, searching every corner for curses, hexes, foul odors, and spells, when he lay in bed one night and stared up at the ceiling. A slight rap at his window drew his attention. Baron’s old room was technically on the second floor, but the first was a sort of basement. That area of the estate had been split level for that reason.
He strode across the room and opened the curtains to see a pink-cheeked young male with a bright grin that went sour when their eyes met. Marquis stumbled back as he mouthed, “Who the fuck are you?”
A brazen, raw-mouthed, and uncultured male with fine silver hair and dark and bottomless eyes sneered at him through leaden glass.
“The fucking owner of this room, that’s who.” Marquis marched over and threw the window up, glaring at the ne’er-do-well.
“What happened to Baron?” The stranger, in the warm, humid summer air, threw the rich, fine scent of omega.
“He’s been moved to the family wing with his soon-to-be mate. But you haven’t explained what you’re doing here.” Marquis stared the omega down, taking in his features. His hair, like starlight. Eyes like obsidian. Eyes that dulled and cinched with confusion.
“Mate?” When his voice softened, he lost the garish edge. The poverty and lowborn accent went hand in hand. Likely from a weak mage family that formed a coven back when they used the Americas as landlocked prison.
“An arrangement recently made. The decision was finalized two days ago.” Marquis backed away from the window and gestured for the omega to come in. If he’d wanted to do something nefarious, he would have already done it.
He dipped his head, posture slumping. “How long’s he known?”
“I’m unsure. He rejected the omega at first, and Father said something about him having a paramour…” Marquis’s heart burned with anger. The male before himwasthe paramour.
“So, Baron was forced into it?” The omega’s voice trembled.
“Eh… Not precisely.” Marquis sighed heavily and told him of the events before.
“I’m nothing that cannot be broken off, huh?” He scoffed. “And I take it you’re his dunce of a brother he prattles on about. Marquis? Arthur means king, you know. Marquis… Baron… He really fancies himself and his children royalty? How tacky.”
“And you are?” Marquis was unbothered by the teasing. He’d had worse from Baron his whole life.
“Mads. Mads of Blue Dawn.” The omega, Mads, sauntered over to Marquis’s bed and flopped back, shoes hanging off the thin sheet he used in warm summers.
“Mads, as in Matthew?” Marquis raised a brow.
“Fuck no. Mads. Just Mads. Don’t call me that Christian massacre of a name.” He scowled. The lesser covens had been heavily prosecuted by the Puritans. It made sense he’d harbor ill will.
“Alright, then. Now, who are you to Baron?” Marquis took a seat at his desk and swiveled his leather chair around.
“Nobody. Now, at least.” Mads sighed. “Ain’t the first man I gave my heart to. What about yourself?”
Marquis shrugged. “Baron has a habit of finding my lovers attractive, and it always goes sour.”
“Damn.” Mads sighed and rubbed a hand down the front of his chest, his breath shuddering as if he were fighting tears. “Want to piss him off?”
And Marquis did.
Chapter Two
