Omega’s Gambit by Flora Quincy

Syon

I never felt soalive as the moment that I looked across my dining table at Hartwell looking pleased as punch that she had convinced me to take part in her mad scheme.

“How’s your progress with the countess?” The question seemed to sober her immediately.

“She is more interested in hearing a suit from an alpha,” she frowned and ran a finger around the lip of the glass causing it to hum. “She… She has taken me into her confidence. I am unsure if it will be possible to… Perhaps she will see my deceit and willingly fall into the arms of another without much thought. Syon, and I ask this with a formality, do you think you can be gentle with her? Take her into your household and… She wishes to be a figure of romance.”

“Yes, I can be gentle… Play with me.” I realised I didn’t wish to discuss my possible marriage to the countess. Not when it had her becoming so serious all of a sudden. I preferred playful violet eyes to sombre ones, but would she agree to my invitation? I closed my eyes to steady my nerves. Though why I should be nervous escaped me.

“Play? How would I play with you?” The violet eyes were somewhat unfocused. But her words caused me to focus on a pair of pouting lips. I had a very clear idea of how I wanted to play with her. How I wanted to play with that mouth. The image was enough that I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

“Billiards,” I said after clearing my throat.

Horne lit the candles, and I watched as the billiards room began to throw off the dark shadows. I rarely came here, having no one to play with, but the urge to keep her with me as long as possible had prompted me to insist we play. She’d admitted ignorance to the game, and instead of letting her off I only pressed harder.

“No, you are doing it wrong,” I set my cue aside and moved behind her to better hold her body into the correct position. A mistake I realised as I folded my body over hers.

My hard cock, which I’d been working to forget, begged to grind against her.

“Is this necessary?” She looked over her shoulder. Every thought was arrested by the look in those violet eyes. “Is my form truly that bad?”

“Yes... You’ve the most unusual eyes I’ve ever beheld. What can I call you when it is just us,” I smiled. It bothered me that she preferred being called Hartwell. “Tell me there is something you like more than Hartwell.”

“No,” she breathed, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “I like Hartwell more than anything… Too many treat me like a child because of my size. Iris Hartwell, the pocket alpha. All my older sisters were omegas. Iris and Viola could both have been alphas, both omegas. But in the end, it was one of each.”

“Omega? You?” I huffed a laugh and rested my forehead against her dark curls. An omega? My body shook with laughter, bitter in the knowledge that she was an alpha. If she had been an omega, I would have said her manner was at times coy, flirtatious. No. She would never be like that. Every move, look, word proclaimed her unconscious of my carnal response. “Of course, that is it.”

I licked my lips and searched for some topic that would change the tenor of our conversation.

“Did you know you could give me a glass of spoilt milk or meat gone off, and I would not be able to tell?” I asked her, knowing I shouldn’t keep her trapped by my body. But instead of straightening, rejecting temptation, I shifted closer the better to feel her heat, catch the faint whiff of violets and vanilla.

“You can’t smell?” she gasped. “But… Why?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted, breathing in her scent, knowing my cock ached for her, for an alpha. I should not find her so distracting, I should consider the deviance of desiring another alpha. Instead, I wanted to conquer her more than if she’d been an omega. Conquer and claim. But my own damned honour prevented me from enacting what my cock and knot wanted: to fuck my secretary in all her holes. “Though I suspect my busted nose might have something to do with it. Until Viola, I have not been able to scent anything.”

“Syon?” Hartwell asked. I liked the way she stretched the first syllable. No, to be fanciful, it was spoken like “sigh”, rather than the Old Testament name for Jerusalem. She did not proclaim me Zion, but something far more illicit.

“Syon,” I corrected.

“I know how to pronounce your name,” she snapped and tried to straighten in my arms but it only pushed her into my body and aching cock.We both went rigid.

“Syon,” there was a warning in her voice that I chose to ignore. A warning I refused to acknowledge.

“You are a beautiful, if impudent, woman, Puss. My body’s reaction to your proximity is only natural. I’m not ashamed of it. Nothing improper...” Except nothing could be more improper… Unless she’d been an omega. Then I’d have compromised her and be obligated to marry her.

“Puss?” she huffed, still indignant at the endearment. But instead of moving away seemed to press back onto my cock, as if exploring what was between us and damn hard to miss because the “it” was damn hard. “Oh… I… I’ve never done anything like this. With an alpha,” she whispered.

“Shall I show you?” I gave her no moment to protest and turned her, lifted her until she settled on the edge of the billiards table. Her violet eyes met mine. Our eye beams twisting and pressing forth any number of emotions, the principle of which was desire. “Have you touched yourself before?”

She smirked. “Of course I have. It isn’t just men and omegas who take their pleasure into their own hands.”

“Have you fucked?” I grinned. This time she blushed. My alpha crowed with pleasure. “You’ve never fucked. Been kissed?”

“By Sarah,” she blushed again. I was shocked. I’d expected her to have a bit more experience than a single kiss. Even if she was young…A whiff of violets and vanilla wafted off of her, and I chased the scent, hunting down where it was thickest. Unsurprisingly, it was along her neck where, if she were an omega, her mating gland would be, though that was covered by her poorly tied cravat. It suddenly occurred to me that the twins might both smell of vanilla and violets. For Hartwell was not dressed in her sister’s clothes. I told myself I wasn’t going to kiss her. Our relationship was already too complicated. I drew back, prepared to put distance between us, when she turned her head just enough for our lips to brush in a delicately chaste kiss. Heavenly, and infuriatingly inadequate as far as my alpha was concerned. I pressed forward, pushing her thighs apart so that I could rub my aching cock against her hot centre. She gasped, and I deepened the kiss, taking advantage of that willing mouth. A wave of satisfaction that I was the first alpha to claim her like this washed over me. The heat between her legs increased and she began to rock into me, unconscious and so deliciously innocent. Then her fingers laced through my hair, a gentle tug pulling me in deeper. With stunning clarity, I realised I wanted her virginity, I would be the first to fuck her. The imperative to stick my thick cock into her cunt had my hands flexing over her hips. I’d rub her clit until she screamed and squeezed so tight on my knot that I would never stop coming inside of her… I jerked back.

“I…” My eyes flickered across her face. “I should not have…”

“Syon… Please, do not apologise,” her hands clutched my coat, and her face buried into my chest. Her next words were muffled. “Oh, Goddess! But please do not apologise. As you said—”

“It is natural. It is nothing,” I confirmed, tilting her face until our eyes met. She nodded, eyes bright, pupils dilated. Goddess, what had we been thinking?

“The wine? That… That lowered…” she trailed off.

But I had no such excuse. When I told her that, she cupped my face with her hand.

“I wanted it,” she told me, her voice steady. “I wanted you to kiss me… Dammit, Syon. I kissed you first!”

I laughed. She had kissed me first. “We can forget it then?”

“Of course… I should probably go now.”

I nodded. She needed to go, or I would do something rash. I would drag her to the duchess’ nest and fuck her until her own scent was drowned out by my own.

* * *

“I cannot be a leading figure in politics,” I snapped a few days after our aborted billiards game. I couldn’t forget her heat or her kiss. But when she hadn’t mentioned the interlude, had avoided looking at me for the last few days, and had only spoken when necessary, my pride determined it best to ignore the raging need to taste her again. All of her. “My position as a duke does not permit it. To think that I can stand and give this speech...”

“You should! I wrote this for you!” She waved it in my face, and I saw red. Hartwell knew I wasn’t dismissing her work. She knew that. So her anger towards myself was a slap in the face, and one I would not tolerate. Perhaps I’d been too lenient with her, especially since the kiss. I growled and made to snatch the sheaf of papers from her, but she pulled away at the last moment

“Fine, I’ll give it to Gale,” Hartwell threatened, violet eyes flashing bright.

“She won’t make it,“ I dismissed the notion.

“Not the Viscountess. Her son, Frederick is capable. He is standing at the next by-election. My uncle took me to a dinner with them the other night. I’ll give it to him—“

“Frederick? Dinner? You think I will permit you to consort with that ass?” I snarled and grabbed her by the lapels of her coat. I shook her a little, which caused the pages to flutter to the ground, forgotten in the heat of the moment. “You will stay away from that alpha. Not because of his politics. They are liberal to be sure. No, you will keep out of his sphere because I will not have my secretary consorting with a known rake. Just because you like his politics does not make him fit for your company. And while we are discussing Mr Gale, keep Viola away from him as well. I won’t have him sniffing around her like a bitch in heat.” I spoke with sneering anger and could not have expected what happened next.

“Do not call Viola a bitch,” she slapped me with surprising force. When she realised what she’d done, those violet eyes went wide with fear. “Dear Goddess! Syon—”

“I like the fire, Hartwell.” Because Goddess give me strength, but the fight in her made me hard. “But do not ever raise your hand to me like that again.”

“You called Viola a bitch in heat,” she hissed, her fury returned.

“I called Gale a bitch in heat.”

“And don’t insult omegas while you are at it!” she snarled.

“Never was there a greater idiot with an even greater intellect.” There were times when I forgot my own strength. Now was not one of them. I wanted to remind this recalcitrant and alluring creature who the real alpha was. I pulled her across her desk until her face was pressed into the cool wood, her eyes level with my hard cock—Goddess help me, I was aroused by the thought of dominating her. With one hand I held her down. The other pushed her coat out of the way. I wanted as little between my temper and her willfulness as possible. My hand fell with a dull smack on a surprisingly luscious bottom that had her crying out more with surprise than any pain. There were too many layers of fabric between us for me to hurt her. Three more swift hits followed, and she struggled as each landed. Struggling more as I stepped close, my cock twitching in my breeches. I had never been so close to fucking an alpha—would her tie be as powerful as an omega’s cunt? My body responded to her proximity in a way I could not have anticipated. I gave her a final spank that shoved her further up the desk, causing the contents of my desk to topple to the ground. I was on the point of pulling her breeches off, of fucking her when sanity returned with alarming abruptness.

“Get out,” I snarled. “Fix your attitude before you return tomorrow.”

“I have work to do.” Her breath was heavy, but she did not sound defeated. How she had the gall to continue to push baffled me. It drove my temper to new heights. I raised my hand to deliver a spanking she wouldn’t forget when Horne called through the door.

“Your Grace, the tailor is here.”

I swore. I didn’t give a damn about my tailor, but I did need to get away from Vi.

“I want you gone within the hour,” I told my brattish secretary. “Do not talk back. One hour.”

* * *

I ran Paxton and Fordom to ground in a new gaming hell owned by the darkly sinister alpha Oberon Drexler, who dressed in all black and was shadowed by a man known only as Puck, but called the Black Devil for his punishing left. They were as odd a pair as Paxton and Fordom. Though the former were rough when compared to my two… Friends, I decided. We had too many overlapping interests for them to be anything other than friends. The night was young, but the rooms were crowded, for Paxton had won his race between here and Newmarket in record time even with the roads less than ideal. He was being celebrated, though you would not know from the scowl on his face. When he saw me it cleared. He pushed through the crowd to my side. “We must talk.”

“The Hartwells?” I guessed. “I’ve a question…”

He grunted and signalled to Fordom, who followed us into the quiet hall.

Up close the man looked like he’d been through the wars and then dragged backwards through a hedge rather than successfully beating the standing time for a race to Newmarket. “None of us can protect them forever. Mrs Hartwell’s embassy to the French has failed. She and Beatrice are amongst the enemy, and Fordom is struggling to pry them away—both stubborn to the end—I wish to Our Goddess I knew where the vixen was so that I could box her ears and then drown her in the Channel. Now I’m hearing your Hartwell spends all her time with the Countess of Kellingham. As if she doesn’t have enough to do with her time. Exert your power, Orley. You’ve more of it with the twins than we.”

My secretary wooing the countess? I nearly told them the truth.

“I don’t tell my secretary how to spend her time,” I lied. “Besides, she’s too young an alpha to be seriously sniffing after omegas.”

“Alpha? Sniffing after omegas? Are you still going along with that ruse? Very well. Suit yourself. I wash my hands of all Hartwells and urge you to do the same. Unless you plan to take your little secretary in hand?”

I growled at the thought of taking my hand to Hartwell and spanking the insolence out of her. How I’d already done so and been interrupted before making the correct impression. But just as quickly thrust the image away in case my scent changed and the others perceived my... My interest in that depraved image. I looked between them. A truly odd pair to be sure, but then who was I to judge? I tossed and turned every night haunted by a patchwork dream of violet eyes and a scent of violets mixed with vanilla.

“Very well. I’ll speak to Hartwell, see what she can do. Do you have any idea where I might find Iris?”

Paxton relaxed as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

“You just took a weight off my shoulders. Viola… She is a brat. I’d rather not hang for strangling her. Better to get Iris to do something.”

“Since when do you use their christian names?” Fordom laughed before taking snuff. He shook himself like a dog and then looked off into the distance. “Goddess save me from all omegas, especially those called Hartwell. I might jest on occasion but tangling with Beatrice was always purgatory.”

“It is hell,” his friend snapped.

“No, Pax. Purgatory. You are welcome to it, for I’ll none.”

“The two of you have issues,” I said. “Tell me where I can find Iris Hartwell and explain to her how it’s to be.”

“Likely here,” Paxton sighed. “It is why I wished to speak with you first.”

I grunted and with a brief nod left them in the darkened passageway. Back in the well-lit rooms where the murmurs of conversation intermingled with shouts of laughter, I looked for my quarry. My hunt was in vain. Instead, I came upon Florey and a pack of his cronies rolling dice.

“Your grace, will you join us?” Viscountess Gale asked. She was a Whig by convenience, and I could see the taunt in her eyes. I found myself bristling.

“Another night, perhaps. Florey, I look for your niece. I don’t suppose you know where I might find her?”

“Is she here?” Gale looked around, clearly curious about my secretary, which set my teeth on edge.

“Oh, leave the girl alone!” An ancient alpha protested. “She is having fun. Let the children play!”

“I believe she left a little while ago,” Florey said. “But I cannot be sure.”

“My thanks,” I gave the table a bow and left them. However, when I reached the door I threw a glance over my shoulder. Florey was looking at me, his face pinched with worry. Perhaps he was aware of his niece’s doings. But he had no need to be. I had every intention of leading Hartwell back to safe waters where I could keep an eye on her.

I left, hoping that she’d hung about… And I was in luck.

Hartwell laughed with an alpha male I’d never seen before. The pair had their arms linked and looked so at home in each other’s company that I resented their obvious intimacy.

“Hartwell,” I barked. She did not respond. “Iris Hartwell.”

She turned towards me, and I saw the colour leave her face—a guilty conscience, no doubt. For a moment I did not recognise her as her face lacked its usual carefree smile.

“Excuse me, Your Grace,” she bowed low. “May I introduce you to my friend, Mr Arthur Jones. Arthur, this is His Grace, the Duke of Orley.”

“I must speak with you, Hartwell,” my emotions were whirling, all because my Hartwell had a friend she’d never mentioned. I did not trust myself in front of the innocuous alpha with a weak chin.

“Arthur, go ahead to my uncle's. I will meet you there in a moment,” she said. “Your Grace, shall we go inside?”

“No. The square will do.”

We crossed the quiet street and into the square.

“You are wooing the Countess for yourself,” I snapped. In truth, I did not care about that bit of gossip. I knew the truth. Rather I did not feel quite so comfortable with this version of my secretary—so much stiffer than I was used to. Bringing up the countess seemed as like to provoke her temper as anything. “Paxton brought me the news.”

“Your Grace, ‘tis a falsehood only a knave would spread! I would never, could never woo in secret. That you would think I could confounds me. Perhaps consider that Lord Paxton don’t know what his business and what isn’t,” she said through gritted teeth. “If you know anything of me, you cannot believe that gossip. I, of all alphas, would never once seek to bring talk to an omega. My sisters are embroiled in enough scandal and pranks to turn a young alpha ancient. Have you thought, perhaps,” and she looked around, lowering her voice even though none could hear us. “Perhaps if I were to wish to woo her, I would do so honestly? Like an alpha.”

“Like an alpha? Do you seek to reprimand me, whelp?” I growled. “Must I remind you that you came up with this subterfuge?”

Her face blanked, and she gave a stiff nod. “You are right. I have no reason to tell you how to handle your affairs. My apologies.”

“Now. That is not the only reason I should wring your neck. I hear from Paxton and Fordom that Viola is acting out.”

“You are damn officious—“ she choked off her words and flushed.

I growled at her. I wanted to grab the scruff of her neck and drag her to my study where I could demonstrate exactly how officious I could be. She should take it as a compliment that I clenched my fist and held my boiling passion in check.

“Iris? Uh... we shall be late if...” The innocuous Mr Jones gave an awkward cough. “Your Grace, I must be off. Viola is expecting us.”

“She is Miss Hartwell to you,” I growled, deep and threatening. No young alpha, especially one as pathetic as this Mr Jones or Hartwell who was in my employ, should be leaving the conversation first.

“You will stay at my pleasure,” I barked, exerting all of my superior alpha will.

Hartwell twisted her neck in submission, but it did not give me the satisfaction it normally did. On every other occasion, that same movement would have me wanting to scent and bite. Now I just wanted to get rid of them both.

“You will be early tomorrow, girl,” I told her, hoping she would respond as she was used to.

Instead, she unbent and briefly met my eyes before giving me a stiff bow and leaving with her friend. I stared after them. Confused and angry. The light was poor and perhaps that explained it. I had not realised how voluble Hartwell’s eyes were. How eloquent and expressive.

* * *

Hartwell arrived looking harassed, and those violet eyes shone with pent up emotion. From the moment she entered the library, I was alive to her every movement, every breath. I wanted nothing more than to lecture her in a way I could not do in public.

“Your Grace,” she began in a rush. “Syon. Yesterday evening. I was... You must understand!”

I waited for her to continue.

“Mr Jones... I was wrong to speak to you as I did. I regret how we parted.” There was a slightly deferential tilt to her head, which lacked the outright submission from the night before. A pair of sparkling eyes glanced up at me with hopeful rather than forced submission. Something inside of me gave way. Here was my Hartwell, my secretary, and the constant thorn in my side.

“Hartwell...” I sighed. “You are a nightmare. As for the countess—“

“I’m not wooing her for myself!” She burst out, taking a hasty step towards me, a hand outstretched as if to physically restrain the direction of my words.

“I—“ I paused. I had been about to tell her I did not care if she courted the countess or not. I hadn’t last night. But now? Now I wanted to snap and tell her that she was too young to be courting anyone, let alone a countess who was older than her.

“So, Miss Iris Hartwell is not wooing Lady Clare, the Countess of Kellingham” I teased.

“I promise. And Viola isn’t either,” she rushed on with a faint attempt at humour. I hadn’t thought that but was amused she wanted to tell me her omega sister wasn’t courting an omega. Then blushing, she continued. “Viola… Viola likes an alpha.”

“Viola likes an alpha? And isn’t presented? Tell me it ain’t that Jones fellow, I’d expect her taste better than that bull calf! But perhaps in picking such an unremarkable alpha…” I ground my teeth. This was madness. What did it matter to me who violets and vanilla married? “Your twin seems destined to create as many waves as your eldest sister.”

“Viola? Waves! No. I think she is coming to realise she would rather work behind the scenes. The power behind the throne.” A sheepish grin peeked through.

“She will struggle to find a mate who allows it,” I pointed out. “I do not mean that unkindly. But no alpha wants to be manipulated. No one does.”

She visibly deflated. “Not even Arthur Jones?”

“You must be mad! Fit for Bedlam.” I couldn’t imagine Viola with such a weak chinned, inconsequential alpha. “No.”

“Yes. She thought to marry him. If she has a husband who takes her politics seriously, perhaps…”

I growled. The idea of her with another had not occurred to me. But with that uninspiring alpha? A man with no presence?

“How could she shine married to one such as him?” I asked, unable to hold back the faint snarl.

“I don’t know!”

“He has a weak chin!” I snapped.

“You, Syon, are a horrible snob. What does a chin, or a nose for that matter, have to do with anything? I have not told you this before but, if I did not have direct contact with your servants and did not see the respect your tenants have for you, I would thoroughly dislike you,” she huffed.

This was my secretary. It must be out of some desire to impress her friend that had caused her to behave so oddly the night before.

“Yes, you’d hate me, brat,” I grinned. “Bad politics and all.”

“Ooo, you make me mad! Agreeing with me! Fine, I wouldn’t hate you but I’d think you terribly stuffy and backwards. In fact, you ain’t all bad and your politics are improving… Though perhaps...”

“Manipulating me, Hartwell?”

“I do love when you call me that. But I am educating you, Syon,” she winked at me. Loved when I called her Hartwell? Was she flirting? Perhaps she would… Never. No matter her dynamic, it was a mistake to think about fucking my own secretary. She walked to her desk as if she hadn’t seen how hard I’d become. It happened occasionally. Out of nowhere, a purely innocent word or look would come my way and I would find my cock stiff and straining against my breeches while my swelling knot beat in time with my heart. How she could miss it, I did not know. Perhaps she ignored it but then why? For when it happened her scent flared as well. And I would know. For still I could smell nothing but violets and vanilla when she was near me. Logically, I knew it was my mind playing tricks, but I refused to give up the illusion. Hartwell and that scent were one and the same to me.