Omega’s Gambit by Flora Quincy

Viola

I pushedout the door to find Horne and Timms standing to the side. I frowned at them. “If it had been His Grace finding you listening at keyholes…”

I let the reality of their indiscretion hang in the air. Syon would have roared at them if he’d been the one to discover servants, no matter their place in his household, listening in.

“We were concerned for your well being,” Horne’s dignity wrapped about him. “A bath—“

“Baths,” I emphasised, afraid they’d only heat enough water for one. An irrational fear, but my nerves were stretched thin and the last thing I wanted was even a sliver of confusion to creep into the minds of servants. Ones I must trust. “A bath for His Grace and one for myself.”

“At once. I shall see to it myself,” Timms bowed and turned. There would be a chaos of whispers and questions amongst the staff. How could there not be? It was barely noon. The night after the first dinner Syon had hosted in years. And directly following a screaming match between us. They probably wondered why I wasn’t being tossed out the street—alphas had been known to do more for less. Or why a doctor had not been called to care for my wounds. I rubbed my arms at the thought of fighting off a sawbones. Then the question of preparing two baths. Surely that would cause as much comment for such a luxury. But better than if one bath had been ordered and we had shared it.

I found my way to the bedroom I’d used for the past few weeks and shook my head at the familiarity of it all. The unfashionably heavy fabrics hanging about the bed. The even older furniture. It was hard to believe that the house had been designed and built only thirty years before. I turned and caught my reflection in the mirror. My hair curled wildly about my flushed face. My eyes though… Fear. It must be fear, for to contemplate any other emotion would be admitting too much. I could claim to be afraid of Syon when he raged. I should be afraid of him. But instead, his temper pricked me. I wanted… I wanted him to prove that he was the alpha for me. “The,” not “an”. The definite article, not the indefinite article, for he was the only one that mattered. The one whose dominance I craved. My alpha. Not some other omega, who would quake and hide from him. But for me! I who had faced him, fenced with him. The omega who didn’t cower or tremble with fear. No. I would not do that. I had been taught better. I became lost in my thoughts for what seemed like hours. People passed on the street, carriages came and went, and my thoughts revolved ever deeper and yet unsatisfactorily around the problem of Syon. Syon, the man and alpha, rather than the duke. The one who had saved me from my tête-à-tête with Lord Paxton. The one who barked at me this morning. I pressed the heels of my hands to my temples and cursed all men and alphas. But the person I cursed longest and most fluently was myself.

“And that is the truth of it,” I muttered. “You love him.”

“Your bath is ready, Miss,” Timms said. “If you need anything, do not hesitate to call.”

I gave an absent nod and waited for him to leave before reaching for my ruined cravat. I discarded each piece of clothing onto the bed until I stood naked. Stripped of every material protection. I was too tired in my body and soul to worry about the recklessness of my current nudity. Too reckless to care when my hand brushed against the dark curls covering my sex. Too reckless as I slipped my fingers between the folds and found the gathered slick. I felt no humiliation at my arousal. Syon had worked me over whilst we had battled and then scented me, giving over his aggression in favour of a different kind of dominance. One I should not have desired, but with every passing day, I wondered what it would be like. Not to hide my dynamic but to stand before him like this. Perhaps not so naked. But certainly as myself, as an omega.

Impossible. He would never forgive me. He’d proved today that even the smallest challenge to his alpha would result in irrational retribution. Swords before words. He’d never hear me out if the truth were discovered.

The bath’s steam scented with lavender and rose filled my lungs with an altogether less intoxicating smell. With each inhalation, I relaxed. I washed my body but soon I focused less on becoming clean and more on the pleasure I could draw with each pass of hands over skin.  My nipples tightened, and I closed my fingers around one, giving it a hard pinch while the other pressed down on the little bud between my thighs. My breath caught as the need humming through my body began to harmonise with my practised touches. I had touched myself before—how else could I get through a heat unattended by an alpha?—but never had I had someone to imagine playing with my body. Now all I could picture was Syon looming over me, his body hard and hot. The outline of his cock, pressing against his breeches. When I’d been on my back, it had drawn my gaze like a lodestone. I’d wanted to see his knot which his tight breeches could not hide. Whoever he wanted—Olivia, or possibly even Viola—I could take that look in his eyes and turn it into fantasy. My slender omega fingers would never be enough but I did my best. Scratching and pinching my nipples, rubbing at the little button of heaven between my slick folds. Even in the bath, I knew I’d produced more the slick than in any previous heat.

“Syon!” I gasped as I imagined his hands taking the place of mine. I did not think he would be rough. No, not Syon. His fingers would work hard and steady, focused on driving me towards a cliff of bliss before yanking the reins and keeping me hanging on the precipice. He would torture me like that for hours. My breath came in short pants at the thought of him in the bath with me. Leaning against the solid plains of muscle rather than the tub. Caged in his arms, his giant cock pressing into my back. Bigger than any dildo I had used during heats. And the knot at his base beginning to swell until it plugged me. I might only have anatomical drawings and the erotic etchings Beatrice had given me as a gift after my first heat, but my imagination ran wild. The knot would grow, and as his fingers edged my orgasm I would reach behind and massage the base. If he teased me, gave me no relief, I would have him suffer the same. We would go on like that until he lost all patience and would spin me around. I would be facing him, my breasts against his chest. My eyes flew open staring blindly at the ceiling as I worked my fingers faster between my legs. Abandoning my breasts, I shoved two fingers into my slit. Pressing deep but never as good as the real thing—my instinctual knowledge that I needed a knot to truly satisfy me. I forced a third finger, but still it was not enough. In my fantasy, Syon worked me, tested my opening on his knot which he wanted, needed to shove deep into my tight, slick sex. Testing, stretching me until a sudden thrust, and we were tied together.

I bit my lip as my orgasm crashed upon me, my back arching sharply as my walls grasped for a fullness that wasn’t there. An unfamiliar drowsiness came upon me. Normally I would be dissatisfied, fretting over the unknown feeling of an alpha’s knot. I knew the difference though— the fantasy my mind had concocted had a face, it had a name. My body recognised that an alpha was responsible for my slick. Tears pricked my eyes in frustration.

* * *

After dressing, I stood at the head of the stairs, on the point of fleeing, but my resolve cracked, shattered. I closed my eyes and turned around to hunt him down. Everything demanded that I see Syon before I left. He could not force his knot into me, but I could look at him, even if just for a moment. I followed his scent to his bedroom, a place I’d never been to before. He’d not closed the door, and I used that excuse to push my way in. His back was to me, and he was naked as the day he was born. I’d never seen a naked man. To say I became enthralled by the powerful muscles that covered every line of his body would be an understatement. I longed to run my hands and tongue along every inch of his sweaty skin, taste him, feel his weight, knowing I could not break free on my own.

“I think that she is opening to the notion of a husband,” I told Syon’s back.

“You will leave for the afternoon.”

”Syon,” I stepped into the room but stopped when he spun to look at me. His eyes were black with arousal and his mate stain like an oak leaf stood out on his sharply muscled abdomen. I swallowed at the sight, unsure where I should focus my gaze. He had his stiff cock in one hand and jerked it up his length, rubbing his thumb over the flared head, spreading the pearl precum before running it down to where his knot had begun to swell. I gulped at the sheer size of it. After what I had done in the bath, my need had grown to a fever pitch. The unmistakable sensation of slick gathering between my thighs at his heightened scent. My omega desires clamoured for more, and my hands (I knew) still carried the faint whiff of my own arousal. A part of me wanted to raise my hands to his nose, taunt him with that smell and expose my sham. But then I also felt a thrill of the deception. It was an ugly thought, but something about his nose blindness made this little meeting almost a figure of our joint imaginations.

“Foolish Puss… know your destiny then. Come here. Kneel at my feet, Hartwell,” he ordered—a purring, seductive command more powerful than if he’d barked at me.

I teetered on the point of refusing him, but my baser needs carried me closer until I knelt at his feet. Up close, the smell of him was even more heady and addictive. His expression did not change, but he began to jack his cock with harsher strokes, using more of the liquid that seeped from the tip to ease his way. His movements hypnotised me. I did not know how long I knelt at his feet like a supplicant. I dared not touch for fear the spell would break. I watched entranced when he directed his cock at me and with a series of grunts painted my face with his seed. I felt it warm on my skin; so much more of it than I thought possible.

With deliberate movements, Syon used his cock to smear my face with his spend. Rubbing it on my lips, my cheeks. And I? I nearly fainted with lust for the scent was overpowering. Only a hand on his powerful thigh kept me upright. I craved it. I wanted it, but as much as that I needed him to mark me with his scent like this. People must know that he’d claimed me like this.

“Lick,” he commanded, bringing his fingers to my lips. Goddess, the taste! Unlike anything I’d tasted before. Almost like the taste of my own slick but stronger, salty and smooth.

“All of it,” he said and used his fingers to gather what I had missed and feed it to me. When he was satisfied, he turned and picked up a damp cloth, which he used to tenderly clean my face. I wanted to complain he should leave it—I wanted to smell like him—, but this moment was his, I knew that. Whatever my desire, he needed this.

“You should leave now,” his voice was tight, forcibly controlled as he gripped his unsatisfied knot.

I stood, moved away, fully aware of the dangers of staying a moment longer. “I’ll be back tomorrow then.”

“Puss… Hartwell,” Syon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he met my violet eyes with his dark ones but it was as if we spoke different languages for I could not understand what he was trying to convey without words. He huffed out a breath. “You need to know—“

“You don’t need to explain,” I stuttered and struggled to my feet. “Natural. We agreed. After the kiss… We agreed.”

Then, like a courtier, I backed out of the room unwilling to miss a moment of his heated gaze. On reaching the head of the stairs and began to descend, my hand gripping the bannister and carefully placing each foot in front of the other. My chest fluttered at the sound of something above me. Would he storm down and drag me into his arms in hope of finding an omega’s scent still lingering on my skin? Would I give in? Would I push him away? Did I possess the requisite strength to deny him? Between each too loud heartbeat, my ears strained for the sound of that familiar step. Was that itch the weight of his gaze on me? Could I turn around and run back up to confess everything to him? And what were my feelings and thoughts, versus those of my omega dynamic responding to the nearness of an alpha? At the bottom of the steps, Horne stepped forward with my overcoat and tricorn hat in hand. He froze when I was close enough for him to smell me. How could he not? Syon’s scent coated me like a warm blanket, comforting and… I felt safe knowing that the world could smell him on me.

“He is in a mood. He’s not used to so many guests. Don’t take it to heart,” Horne told me as he helped me into my greatcoat. “Take care of yourself, for it is cold out. I wish you would permit me to order a chair or carriage for you.”

I hummed in understanding. “No need, Horne. The walk will do me good. Make sure he remembers to eat.”

“Of course. You take such care of him.”

I froze, dread building that I was suspected of being other than what I appeared. Very slowly, I turned to look at the old servant. His face was completely impassive, and I cursed at the skill of long-serving servants to keep their thoughts so close.

“Perhaps that says more of the care he...”

”No need to come to blows,” he put up hands to forestall my protest. “Merely that before you came, His Grace rejected any fussing. You have made our job much easier. We hope you will be around for as long as—”

“I leave at the end of this parliamentary session,” I cut him off. “If not before. When he marries…”

“I hope that is not true. That you will change your mind.”

The words were spoken with such kindness that I ground my teeth and resisted giving him my best alpha growl. “I am not some changeable omega.”

“Which is why you are so good for him,” Horne assured me and opened the front door. I paused for one long moment. “So like the dowager duchess.”

“You are lucky he would hunt me down and rip me to shreds for quitting over something you said. But I might risk it if you continue.”

His smile was enigmatic. “I was butler to His Grace’s grandmother. My loyalty lies with her and now with His Grace.”

Frustrated beyond measure, I made it to the pavement and was grateful for my decision to walk rather than take a chair or wait for a carriage. A carriage would have me surrounded by Syon’s scent, while fresh air might blow it away. If only my worries were so easily dispersed.

* * *

Turning onto Weymouth Street, I realised I was not prepared to face my aunt or uncle, should they be home or wanted to see me. My aunt had taken to bed recently, complaining of some nervous disposition, and my uncle was spending more of his time at his clubs than before. Instead, I crossed the street and knocked on Mrs Markham’s door, giving a silent prayer she would be home. Her butler opened the door and when questioned, admitted me with a squinting observation that I seemed to have lost my coat. I cursed. Until then I’d not realised I’d left my mustard velvet at Orley House. The butler led me up the stairs to a brightly lit drawing room far more fashionable and richly furnished than what I’d expect for a widow living in this part of town. He was a great, if ancient, alpha, and I was surprised to find an alpha working as a servant. When I questioned her, she laughed.

“Dixon? Oh, he isn’t my butler even if he pretends to be. He was a colleague of my late husband’s and a widower. When I decided to rent this house rather than stay in Hampstead, he said he would come too. To protect me! I think he is bored and wanted to feel useful. Alphas do not always have it easy, my dear. Their instincts to protect what they deem is theirs is... I think difficult might be too gentle a word. May I say you look very fetching in your men’s garb… But flushed… Are you unwell, child?”

“I’m well… I just…” I stopped myself before committing some indiscretion. I realised her daughter was not present. “And where is Hero today?”

“I’ve sent her to school... It is not easy being a beta heiress.”

“Heiress? I’d not known. You... You were married and mated, yet your child is a beta?”

“Yes. Shall we begin your portrait?” She raised an eyebrow, challenging me for I’d yet to visit her home and sit for her. Syon had taken all my time, which I did not regret for a second.

I watched the enigmatic omega work out of the corner of my eye. She had refused to let me see her work no matter my pleading, but I enjoyed our afternoons together when she came to visit my aunt or I met her at the countess’. I still did not wholly trust her. Her ever pointed questions about my relationship with Syon. But of all my acquaintances in London, I liked her best. We were friends of sorts. Both intelligent and independently minded. Though she chose to use those smarts to portray a frivolous society matron. And I? I masqueraded as an alpha. We talked of art and society. She told me stories of her youth and the scandals she had learnt when her sitters shared tidbits of gossip. Our conversations did not give me the same kind of joy as those with Syon. Still, I enjoyed being able to talk freely about my ideas with an omega.

“Tell me. How is your alpha?”

“He is not my alpha. He is my employer.” I flushed. She would be able to scent him on me, and I prayed she could not guess why his scent was particularly strong.

“I think it is more than that. I heard you were at a very select political dinner last night. Surrounded by alphas and very few friends of yours or your uncle’s.”

I huffed in annoyance. I did not want to discuss my own life when I could make such little sense of it.

“It was... Very instructive.” I shifted in the chair. My memories of the night. The conversation, the food, the comforting presence of Syon as he watched me share my ideas. I’d even caught him smiling into his glass after I’d cursed at Pitt for plans to prevent omegas from being permitted to travel on their own. A thought occurred to me. “You are like my uncle. Always conceiving that I have feelings for the duke. I entered his service to gain support for the Omega Property Rights Act. To push politics, not passion.”

“You enjoyed it! I’ve never seen... your scent is so sweet. And politics are your passion,” she teased. “Don’t worry. Your response to him is natural.”

“I had not noticed... Being so close, physically I mean, does it cause the body to react? Or is... I am so sheltered,” I sighed. “I know I respond physically to him. But that is nature. I cannot conceive why I am telling you this…”

“Let us take a break. Some tea, perhaps?”

“No. I can sit a bit longer.”

“Well, I would like a break.”

She called for tea and it arrived, brought by the intimidating Dixon. After we were left alone, Mrs Markham turned to me and cocked her head to the side. “Do you think Dixon and I are immune to each other?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

“Why?”

“You were both mated to other people.”

“Then you are wrong. A mate bond is a wonderful thing and the loss is—I cannot put it into words. But an alpha or omega can mate more than once. I am sure you know the Lords and Lady Cross? They are three alphas and an omega. And the duke’s grandparents had a pack.”

“But they never took lovers after their mates died.”

“La, child! What did your Mama teach you?”

“That she could not consider a mate after my father died. There were interested omegas. Or rather, their families. Some younger than Beatrice… My age! Mama rejected all of them.”

“And sometimes that is the case. But… Omegas in particular have needs. A heat does not quiet until we are advanced in years, and while an alpha’s knot might continue to swell—“

“You speak very plainly.”

“Faith, but the world has grown prudish. You are raised so sheltered it is almost remarkable you know what goes on between a man and woman.”

I wondered how red my cheeks were, if my scent was spiking as I remembered what I had been doing with Syon early that day. I stood abruptly and strode across to the canvas but stopped short of seeing how she had captured me. I did not want to be confronted by image. Not yet at least.

“I know what happens!” I snapped. “Beatrice knew an alpha when she was younger. I remember it was when we were still in Scotland. It was why she never accepted any of the alphas who proposed to her. Even though she is… To look at, she is a perfect omega. But her disappointments set her against alphas…”

“I’m surprised you know of that. You must have been quite young.”

“I listened from the landing. Our house was not very large,” I smiled at the memory. I’d been ten. “I think my parents wanted to protect us from that. And…”

“I’m aware of what your parents did in the past. They created a rather ignorant omega daughter.”

“Ignorant to think I could pull this masquerade off,” I sighed.

“Oh, child! You are… You have not been caught. You are under his nose every day—quite literally. I think he must have the worst nose in London.”

“I take suppressants and… He lost his sense of smell after a fight that broke his nose.”

She howled with laughter. Joyous and carefree, continuing until she wiped tears from her cheeks. “You might not want to reveal that. Alphas are proud—but it is a good sign he trusts you.”

Her smile broke through my brown study like the sun through clouds.

“As likely, he could never expect someone to conceive of such a mad scheme. Alphas lack the subtlety of omegas. They need…”

“To be taken care of,” I sighed. “Bea takes care of Mama, who’d forget to eat if she wasn’t reminded Hippolyta keeps company that makes alphas nervous. Why do we have to be the ones caring for them? Our abilities are greater than that of a helpmate.”

“Sweet child. Do you think alphas so great? Imagine being run mad at the thought of your mate in danger. The struggle to let go and let them explore the world? Your Mama is a rare alpha. And you should find one as civilised. You could do worse than the duke.”

“I thought you wished him to marry Lady Clare?“

“And he would run roughshod over her. She is a gentle soul and would not stand up to him. That is not to say all mates or marriages must have that kind of spark. Many omegas would be better paired with a gentle beta. Rather, I think of you, my dear. What are your ambitions and how are they best served?”

“Very well, a mate who saw me as an equal. Who took me seriously. That is my ambition. And… And one who loved me as I am.”

Her eyes twinkled, though she forbore to say anything. Try as I might, I could not summon the face which belonged to Iris’s friend. He’d dined with us when Iris had been in town, but I could not remember him beyond his name—Arthur Johnson, or was it Andrew Jones? I’d considered marrying him, what a fool to think an alpha as innocuous as him would be enough for me. Syon was correct. He had a weak chin.

I sat with Mrs Markham for the next hour and contemplated the tangle I had found myself in. How dangerously careless my actions were. I should quit my position as Syon’s secretary. I should quit and never look back, never wonder. The rational part of me fought against the fear. It pointed out that my disguise had been successful except that Mrs Markham had seen through it. Paxton had met the real Iris and noted the difference, but like Mrs Markham, he seemed determined to keep my secret. And those were persons who knew my family, who knew me. All others did not question my dynamic. There were no glances that sought to see past the presentation. It was only when I was with Syon, alone and tired, that I feared being caught. When I relaxed and my defences were lowered.

I blushed. Those were not the only times.

I also felt on the verge of being caught any time his scent heightened and my body responded. The longer I spent with him and the more sensitive I became to his moods, the more readily my body betrayed me.

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. My plan could not be said to have reached the halfway point. There would be many more days spent with Syon before the bill went to a vote.

He must marry Olivia. My heart rebelled at the thought, but it was the only way to save her. There were other alphas, but she needed rescuing and Syon was the only one I trusted to treat her with the respect and care she deserved. I thought of Caroline, of how she pined for Olivia, of how she would not be able to pay Olivia’s omega price.

“Viola? Go home, child, and rest,” Mrs Markham touched my shoulder. I nodded and trooped across the street.

As I climbed the stairs to my room, I heard voices—my aunt and uncle’s caught in a fiery argument. Despite their chilly relationship, I had yet to hear them fight. I crept closer until my ear was pressed to the drawing room door.

“Yes, you would use her,” my aunt sneered. “Anything for Charles’s children. Anything to get ahead in your career. You should have married him. But Christina proposed first. I know that is why you married me. I know that you never loved me or wanted me beyond my proximity to Charles.”

“Maria—“

“Do not call me that. You are a coward. You offered me security. A roof over my head. Promised to respect my needs and desires. Then you forced a mate bond on me.” Her voice was thin, harsh, and so full of anguish. “You took away my choice! You took it away and then you abandoned me when I did not give you children. But did you ever think that it was you who did not give me children?”

“I am… I cannot express how…” My uncle’s voice dropped, and I could not hear what more he had to say.

I sagged against the door frame, the little pieces of the puzzle falling into place. My uncle, in love with my father? My uncle... It made its own kind of sense. His steady correspondence but my father’s sporadic responses. How he had asked for his letters to be returned on Papa’s death. Mama’s cold response that she had burnt them. How my aunt had conceded to my stay in London only when Mama had been forced to leave for France.

My heart pounded in my chest, and my hand crept up into my mouth. Only then I smelt the faint smell of Syon’s release. I muffled a moan and escaped to my room to fuck those fingers into my cunt. For a moment, I forgot that not all couples received the blessings my parents had.