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Syon
I rolledonto my back and took a firm hold of my knot which was swelling almost painfully. A rough jerk at my hard cock was a kind of punishment for not recalling the dream that had caused me to grow increasingly frustrated each morning for the last few weeks. I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed in deep through my nose trying to draw in the scent that haunted my days. Yet it was dangerous to touch myself, for then I imagined violet eyes. To conflate Viola and Hartwell—even if she wanted to be an omega—was dangerous.
I stroked up and ran a thumb across the head, smearing the precum and stroking down with a hard stroke trying to mimic the tight grip of an omega’s quim as I thrust deep inside Hartwell. Omega or not, I knew she’d be tight around my cock and knot. I’d fuck the insolent challenge out of her… I groaned. The reality of what I imagined more effective than a swim in a cold lake. An alpha? That did not cool the ardour. But the knowledge that in indulging these fantasies, allowing them to rule my passions would only bring pain. I would not take a wife and mate another. No matter how much my heart called to Hartwell, the likelihood of two alphas having children was low, and oddly those children were almost always betas.
I rolled off the bed, tossed a dressing gown on, and strode to the window, looking out across the square. The countess’s house mocked me. I could almost remember her face seen across a ballroom when they’d been newlyweds. But the harder I focused on fair hair and pale eyes, the more I conjured dark curls and violet eyes. My hand shook as I lifted the lid of a plain box on the table by my bed and removed a lace handkerchief I’d found dropped by her desk. I brought the delicate fabric to my nose and caught the first whiff of violet eyes—I could not put a name to that scent without pushing myself beyond the limits of a civilised alpha. A near feral growl reverberated through my chest as my cock stiffened once again.
Without thought I reached down and pumped steadily, precum easing my way. Again that smell with a sweet underlying hint of Viola’s vanilla and violets. The combination brought forth the flush of my impending orgasm. I gritted my teeth hoping to prolong the moment and switched hands so that the one holding the delicate fabric fisted my cock. The other gripped the swelling knot. My balls drew up before my orgasm pulsed through me, the handkerchief catching my spend. It was a poor imitation of where I wanted to plant my seed but better than letting it completely go to waste. At least I had now marked something that belonged to… Viola. Or was it Hartwell, who had taken Viola’s scent… I did not care. It would have to be enough because I would never let myself take what I so desperately needed—my knot lodged deep, my mark fresh on her neck. And after yesterday? I wasn’t certain I was alpha enough to resist the temptation Hartwell offered. I’d see her on her knees again.
Torture indeed, especially when I knew Hartwell would be arriving within an hour. Yet I could not feel disgusted with myself or the feral alpha lurking beneath the surface. I was soothed by the knowledge that in some small way I had marked what was mine. Enough that I was able to spend the day with Hartwell with only the now constant need to fuck my secretary.
* * *
Hartwell stood in front of me, her face flushed. I grinned. If I wanted she would go to her knees again. Only this time I would fuck that perfectly insolent mouth.
“Viola has been called to Kellingham House… I must change here… Your Grace?” She licked her lips, and my gaze fixed on how tempting her plump bottom lip looked. I blinked, her words breaking through my thoughts which increasingly trended towards depraved fantasy when she was near. “I, uh, I need to change here. I am supposed to attend a concert as Viola tonight. I had not thought… Mrs Markham sent a message around... She wanted us to join her for dinner beforehand as she will be my chaperone.”
“What?” I glared at the eyes that haunted my dreams. It was one thing to fantasise, another to have that dream presented on a silver platter. “You didn’t tell me this before.”
“I didn’t know how. I… Viola was invited this morning. I planned on going home to dress…”
“When did that change?” I gripped the desk to hold myself still. I had forbid her to dress as Viola in my house. Even the memory of her in a dress sent my pulse racing. I longed, needed to see the vision of Viola in my house. Her scent filled the room. And with it came the memory of when she had expressed her wish to be an omega.
“When it became clear there was too much to do!” She growled. “We still have to go over your speech before the lords. The business of being your secretary must come before my social engagements.”
“And you have your things here?” I interrupted.
“I sent for them, yes. I can just use a guest room. You don’t have to see or smell Viola.”
I swallowed at the sudden image of a naked Hartwell in my house and knew if I had to suffer that knowledge I might as well complete the torture by having her change behind the screen as she had done before. My voice was understandably hoarse when I told her. “You will change behind the screen as before while I practice my speech.”
“Is that wise?” Her voice was soft. “We’ve… We’ve done things.”
We had not once spoken of what happened after the duel. How I had fucked my hand until I’d ejaculated on her face. All the while hoping to stuff Hartwell with my cock and knot in her every available warm and wet opening.
“I think I am more than capable of controlling myself,” the lie slipped off my tongue.
“I’ll ask Timms to bring it through then,” she said softly.
“What?” I snapped. When had my secretary commandeered my valet?
“I needed to have the wrinkles released from the gown. Our Goddess, Syon, do you expect me to appear in public in a creased gown?”
“Puss, I couldn’t care less how you appeared, I want to know why you are instructing my servants.” All too often Hartwell made some move on the board that pulled me up short. I’d gone from wanting to fuck my cock into her mouth to annoyance that she had command of my servants. I smiled at the turn about. I couldn’t even be angry with her about it.
“I am your employee. You pay me a wage as you Timms or your footman or charwoman. I can speak to them…”
I stood for a moment in shock. I had never considered my relationship with her in the terms she used. “You are not a servant.”
Hartwell chuckled. “As it pleases, Your Grace.”
I growled but without any heat. If she chose to needle me, then I would indulge her as I was coming to realise I indulged her in all things. “Fine. Order my servants as if they were your own. See if I care.”
“As you wish,” she swooped into an exaggerated bow. The bell was rung, and there was a flurry of excitement that brought in both Horne and Timms to arrange the screen, place candles, and finally with great decorum a gown. I tried to avoid the parade of ceremony that passed by my desk. It disrupted my work and gave me ample time to build the anticipation of what was to come. For though my secretary held my interest, the unknown Viola caught me up in a swirl of desire. The gown being thepièce de résistanceof lavender satin gave off the intoxicating scent of violets and vanilla. A fragrant manifestation of the power of omegas over alphas.
At last, it seemed to be time. By some invisible summons, Hartwell put down her quill and tidied her desk as if she were not about to transform into her twin. I sat back in an armchair and watched as Timms helped her shrug off the well-fitting coat. With a careless wave, she sent him away and disappeared behind the screen.
“Why not recite your speech,” came a muffled voice.
