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Syon
I gasped,pulling in deep lungfuls of crisp winter air that was not saturated by Viola’s enthralling scent of violets and vanilla, the hypnotic way her violet-eyed stare cut through me. Her eyes had looked so vulnerable but also near black with desire. And her slick. Goddess! her slick. Then how she’d wanted to…How she had! My balls ached, and my cock hard again. The urge to return and give her what we both wanted… Except would she want me to fuck her mouth, quim, or ass? I wanted to give her my knot in all three. How could I have left her when she smelt needy and ready for an alpha’s knot? It was cruel to her, and torture for me.
Viola Hartwell. I looked up to the drawing room window and saw her looking up at the clouds. An unattainable ideal for any alpha. And for me a temptation I had rejected.
She was more than I could have hoped for. More than I could have longed for. She put me in danger more than her twin. For Viola, I was feral. I could grasp control of myself with Hartwell. She was an alpha. In Viola were all my ideals and requirements in a wife—and ones I’d not realised I wanted. But she had one quality I could not discount: Viola tempted me into taking her as my mate. The way she had so gently bared her neck for me, and I’d been on the brink of mate-marking her there. Unlike with the countess, I lacked the control to rut Viola and not mark her then and there. Her scent so strong I knew that even though she wasn’t in her heat the mark would have taken. Then where would I be? In a marriage with a mate and no guarantee I wouldn’t turn as jealous as my father had. Jealous to the point of challenging alphas if they dared look on my mate? I would not hate her as my father had hated my mother. But Viola deserved a mate of her choosing rather than a feral alpha. I owed Hartwell that much if I married her sister. Worse still, it didn’t change my feelings for either of them. Could I take them both? I was hard from the fantasy of the twins in the duchess’ nest—easily the most erotic things I’d ever imagined. Twin perfections. Who would refuse that?
And yet the passionless marriage to the countess put me on edge. If I subjected myself to such a connection, would I then become my grandparents, who were married in name but mated to others? I’d not give up Hartwell. I could not. Amongst the peerage, packs were acceptable when the parentage of the heirs could not be questioned. Hartwell was a woman. She could give me children, alpha children… Except not. Alpha-alpha pairs were barren more often than not. And if my wife were to take a mate? If I married Viola in order to keep a facsimile of my secretary near, what would I do if Viola mated another? If I mated her twin? The thought of Viola near another alpha nearly had me returning to her and claiming her, ruining her on my knot, holding her close until someone discovered us and saw exactly how an alpha claimed an omega. It would be a rape and I would never do that.
No solution came to mind. None that would solve my problems and keep others safe.
“No good can come of this.”
What I had done with Viola was a betrayal of my relationship with my secretary, my Hartwell, but I could not regret it. I must do the honourable thing. I needed to marry the countess. Save her. There would be others for the Hartwell twins. An omega for Iris. An alpha for Viola. I’d give them up despite what Viola had said. I knew if our situations were reversed, she would do the right thing. Save the countess.
* * *
I passed a restless and frustrating night. No matter the number of times I jerked my stone hard cock or squeezed the life out of my knot, I returned again and again to a state of perpetual arousal that only an omega’s, only Viola’s slick coated cunt could provide. I was near to a rut and no easy lie could change how I fixated on violets and vanilla. I had to find some relief and flirted with the idea of kidnapping Viola. I could just keep her in the duchess’ nest. I didn’t need to touch her, fuck her. Just knowing she was there… Building a nest… That was a lie. I could not have her or Hartwell near with me without my near feral alpha taking over. Violet eyes were the only thing that might provide relief. Violet eyes looking up at me as lips over my cock, which I would thrust deep into a hot and willing mouth. Or violet eyes dilated in ecstasy as my knot stretched a hot and slick hole. Or violet eyes half shuttered with the bliss of too many orgasms.
As dawn approached I came to my conclusion. I could not marry the countess. I could not deny myself and my needs. Let another save the countess. It was arrogant of me to think other alphas wouldn’t be interested.
I held off for two days before I headed to Weymouth Street and demanded of Florey where my secretary was.
“Kellingham House,” was the unwelcome reply, but at least it was across the square from my own residence, from the duchess’s nest. It would suffice. “The countess is receiving alphas. My niece and mate…”
But I was off before he could finish.
The countess’ butler tried to forestall me when I arrived, but I pushed past and stormed the drawing room.
The widowed omega sat on an elegant little sofa in an equally elegant room. She could have fit into my pocket, the perfect representation of an omega. But I could not look away from where Hartwell stood by the window talking with a woman I did not recognise.
“Countess,” I bowed to my hostess.
Then I turned to my quarry, who looked pale as the tucker that spilt from a gown of cornflower blue, which set off her eyes to perfection. I knew it was Hartwell and not Viola from the little frown and disapproving shake of her head. So different from Viola’s omega instincts when I’d been with her the other day. I did not think I had beheld anything as perfect as my secretary being irritated with me. I grinned because I realised two incontrovertible facts: Hartwell was my best friend, and I was wildly, madly, deeply in love with her.
“I would talk to you before I leave. Now,” I said. Not quite a bark but I would not permit her to thwart me.
She hesitated for a moment, looked at her companion before following me out the door. A fortunate thing, for if there had been a hint of reluctance, the feral alpha inside of me would have pounced and dragged my prey from the room. Once within reach, I grabbed a slim wrist and pulled us into the nearest room, a library, the curtains thrown back to reveal a room that looked like it had not seen a soul in many months. What more proof did I need that the countess was not for me? The abandoned chamber was more than adequate for my purpose. A lair for me to press my case, and make it known I would have mine. Butcivility. I clung to my control, despite the fight put up by my alpha to claim, even in another’s house, what belonged to me. For now, we were alone. I must depend on every expectation of polite behaviour to hold me back. I could not scare her—if Hartwell could ever be scared. Another grin played with my lips as her frown deepened.
“I am taking you now. Hartwell, you are mine,” I spoke plainly so she would not misunderstand my meaning.
“Your Grace, you are mistaken. I belong to no one.” Her voice might tremble but the chin and eyes were all proud defiance. “I’m Viola,” she hissed.
“I know exactly who you are. You are mine.”
“Fool! You are blinded by an omega’s scent,” violet eyes flashed. I knew who those eyes belonged to because they were the eyes of the one I loved. This creature before me could stop my world with a smile or a spark of temper. She had demonstrated a knowledge of politics I wanted to nurture and encourage. I wanted to see this incredible woman before me grow and flourish. Yet, I could not allow myself to get closer. Whatever scandal might come, I could allow it to fall on my broad shoulders. But the thought of it touching my dear beloved—for that is what the owner of those violet eyes was to me—to allow even a breath of scandal to harm this perfect formation of body, mind, and heart was a knife through my chest. I could bear it, though. I had the power and the will to clear the path. But first I would have her in the duchess’ nest. Alpha or omega I would rut Hartwell in her nest as my mate and wife deserved.
“No scent could hide you from me,” I purred. “I would know it is you by looking in your eyes. Those flashing orbs which sent forth our souls to combine… See Hartwell, I turn poet for you. You enthral me.”
Those startling eyes shuttered, hiding whatever emotions were coiled and pleading to get free. The delicate throat rose and fell as she swallowed down some words before looking back into my eyes. Violet eyes, so slightly dilated that I knew we both rode the rising, tumultuous passion. Her actions had already proved as much. Yet there was sad resignation in them. My heart pulsed as if it had been dealt a blow it would never recover from.
“Did you speak with Viola?” I asked, suddenly afraid the twins had revealed all to each other. “So much has changed since then. I should have come to you sooner. The very moment I knew my mind…”
“What is’t you want, Your Grace? Did you not tell Viola you must marry the countess. What need to speak with me except to tell me to leave and never see you again?” Her nostrils flared, and I relished how her violet eyes dilated when she realised exactly how aroused I was.
“Whatever was said to Viola about you, about the countess—ignore. I will have you. You are mine. Understood?” I growled.
“I…” she began. That delicate flush I’d become so painfully aware of in the past weeks swept from fair cheeks to what was exposed of her chest. “You cannot want me… Not forever.”
