Omega’s Gambit by Flora Quincy

Syon

The smellof sex and violets and vanilla covered me like a blanket.

Viola’s heat had broken sometime in the early morning, and we had both fallen into a deep sleep. My body ached for her still. That elusive scent that had haunted my dreams now lingered in every breath. I needed to have her again. Take her, breed her, and—Goddess forgive me—mate her because my instincts screamed for it. Yet everything else protested—I could not be like those feral alphas perpetuating the rape of omegas lost to their heats. The savage rejected even those basest needs.

From the moment I had seen her at the ball, I had not thought of her deception. But now in the bright light of morning, all I knew was the never-ending guilt of betrayal. I loved Hartwell. But was Viola the same as my enchanting secretary, or was that an act as well? I had rushed back to London heedless of the consequences. Then her heat had come on so fast. Now daylight revealed how very little I knew about this woman.

I turned my head, resting my cheek on a pillow infused with our scents. All I saw was her back and a mass of black hair. That graceful back I remembered seeing arched and begging. How strong it looked. How perfectly yet delicately muscled. My cock, already hard, throbbed as I took in the marks I had made on the pristine canvas. There was nothing gentle about how I had bitten across her shoulders and along the graceful line of her neck. Except her mating gland which stood out for its untouched perfection.

Until that moment I had never felt worse. The realisation that I had violated her. True, she had been begging, but omegas were needy and vulnerable in their heats. It came flooding back. She’d been at Gale’s to find a mate. Her uncle most likely wanted her to marry Gale’s heir. I scowled. Even if she did not want me, I could not let her be with a man and alpha I had no respect for—she was too good for him. However at war I was with myself about what to do next, if Viola wanted, needed a mate, that one could only be me. I had ruined everything. I had stolen her and rutted her through her heat, taken her virginity, and done everything but marked her as mine. I regretted nothing. Instead, I swelled with a hunger for her body, a need to have her in the bright morning sunshine. All to remind her that there would be no other alpha in her life. I had not mated her yet, but I wouldn’t let her be with another. I was a selfish bastard and I refused to share her. At least not yet. There was time enough for the difficult conversations. I wondered if I had held back, not just out of consideration, but for a greater reason—that after her deception I did not in fact want her beyond her body. A pretty lie to tell myself because I did not like my new self. The one that would gut another alpha for looking at her too long or one who threatened to take her from me.

I reached a hand to trace her spine, but, as my finger made contact, she flinched away from me. I froze. My heart stuttering to a stop as reality crashed in. Outside of her heat this omega, my omega, might yet reject me. Perhaps she would decline to be my duchess, refuse to become my wife. Based on the way she had recoiled from my touch, I had been right to give her the choice rather than take it from her. Thank Goddess. I let out a heavy sigh. If she would reject me, at least there would be no bond there to tear us apart from the inside out.

“Your hands are cold,” she mumbled and twisted under the sheets until we were facing. She pushed her tangled, dark hair from her face. For the first time, I was aware enough to study her face—violet eyes, thick lashes, and a little yawn that ended in a murmur of contentment. She blinked away the last of her sleep and chuckled. “I think that means I’m out of my heat if I flinch from cold hands.”

Her smile could have made a starless, moonless night as bright as day. My heart released and soared with that.

I had perfection before me.

And perfection didn’t hate me or my touch.

“Do you think we might call for some food? I had not expected to be so hungry,” she blushed.

I needed to have her again, damn the consequences. Damn the fact we needed to talk all this over.

“Yes. I find that I am starved,” My lips found hers. Slow and sinful kisses to make her drunk with desire. I would give her a different taste of alpha this morning. Not that brutal, instinctive fucking we had perfected but something more permanent. I would not rush us to completion. I would take my time. First I would feast. My kisses made a pilgrimage to her neck, nipping where I had already marked her then soothing kisses. I bit, gentle and careful, at her mating glad to test the waters. She rewarded me by pressing my face into her neck. I growled, pleased with her response. But no omega would dictate my seduction. From there, to her breasts, weighing them with my hands, teasing her nipples with my tongue.

“I meant food,” she gasped. I would never get enough of those little sounds she made. Would never grow bored with dragging them from her. I pinched the rosey buds, they had been neglected for hours, but that would be rectified when I suckled on her breast, lavishing them with attention as she arched into my touch. Her hands laced through my hair, tugging. My omega had desires, but so did I.

And I desired to taste her slick drenched sex at my leisure. Spending my time, head buried between her thighs, all day if I could. I didn’t know what the future held for us, but I would suspend time to spend an eternity with her in her nest.

“This is the nectar of the gods. An ambrosia. There is no need for food,” I informed her and licked again from the pucker of her ass—where I had yet to take her—to the sensitive pearl at the top of her sex. After that first deliberate pass, I teased her pussy coated with slick that tasted as sweet as ever. I feasted, reached deep within her with my tongue, and sucked on her clit. Taking my pleasure by giving her hers. Aware that with each moment I drove her closer to the point of no return. And once she arrived there, I would keep going. For it was my pleasure to draw out hers until she was mad with bliss.

“I need you inside me now,” she purred with a painful tug on my hair. Very well, I’d satisfy my omega’s needs. After all, I’d decided we’d spend an eternity together.

I surged up her body and sheathed myself in a single sure stroke, pushing my already partially swollen knot into her slick cunt. She had taken me over and over the last week but she was as tight as ever.

“Alpha!” She begged. “Oh Goddess, I feel you everywhere.”

I growled with that primal satisfaction and began to thrust. I took my time, pulling out until just the tip teased her opening before slowly gliding into her wet heat. Each movement a delicious torture.

My knot swelled and even before it had reached its full size, I could feel her locking down on me with her omega’s muscles that completed the seal, preventing my seed from leaving her body. And around me her walls clenched, milking me. The increased pressure sent me back into rut, pulsing over and over into her, filling her with my cum to plant a pup in her womb.

“I...”

“Shh,” I kissed her forehead. “Shhh. Be quiet and rest.”

“With you pressing me into my nest?” She asked.

“Exactly.”

“But I’m hungry,” she pouted.

“Then I shall summon Timms, and he can bring us food like this. Or would you prefer for me to carry you, naked and impaled on my knot, to the dining room?”

“Oh,” she wriggled beneath me and my knot, which had begun to relax, flared again. I caught her gasp in a kiss. “I am... Oh, Goddess, please. I am so full. I can feel you... How could you be so big? How can my body take you?”

I growled and grew hard again at her words. Her face went slack, her mouth opening into a perfect “o” of delight as another, then another orgasm washed over her. I did not force my knot into her this time. My omega was hungry and needed another kind of tending.

Horne, Timms, whoever had a preternatural knowledge for our needs, brought a feast within minutes of ringing the bell. All foods to help an omega and alpha regain their strength after a long heat.

“How long?” I asked quietly.

“Six days,” Timms said equally quietly. “Her family has been by. Shall I send word?”

I nodded, and he slipped out again. Six days. So long? There was no legal requirement for me to keep her, but by now the news that I had taken Viola Hartwell from a private ball and rutted her through her heat would be all over town, if not further. Perhaps not yet to Paris, but it would not be long before Viola’s alpha mother was banging down my door demanding my head.

I stood at the foot of the nest and watched her nibble on a piece of toast, a half-empty teacup nestled by her thigh. For all her begging for food, she had barely touched the porridge or baked egg prepared for her.

“Eat all of it,” I told her. “All of it.”

“The egg is cold,” she wrinkled her nose.

“Omega,” I growled. “You will do as your alpha says.”

She smirked. “Are you my alpha?”

I nearly cursed her for the insolence. I nearly pulled her from the nest to press her up against the windows that overlooked the square to prove to her and to passersby that I was her alpha. But I held back.

“Yes. After the ball, I have every legal right to claim that you are my omega.“

“You are doing this because you want to protect my name?” She asked, her jaw clenched. “Out of… Because you compromised me at Gale’s ball?”

“That is part of it, yes.” I would not lie to her. But how could I tell her that I had been obsessed with her scent from almost the beginning? Before then, I had been drawn to her as Hartwell, my secretary. Even after I’d learnt her lie, I would have done everything to ensure she belonged to none but me. I loved who I remembered her being, back when she had been mine. But my pride prevented me from uttering the words.

“And my deception, what of that? I thought you wanted to end any and all relationships with my family. Isn’t that true, Your Grace?” she asked, all emotion schooled from her face. “I’ve no doubt you returned to town to throw my response to your letter in my face.”

She sucked on her bottom lip, glared at me, managing to look murderous and distressed all at once. Such was the power of violet eyes.

“I received no such letter— just one from your sister. I will do the right thing by you,” I told her through gritted teeth. “Your prank will not change my mind. I saw you through your heat. You are mine. We will marry.”

I had not expected her to move so quickly. She flew across the nest and grabbed the lapels of my dressing gown.

“You do not love me. You wanted nothing to do with me. And now you will marry me? Will you mate me, bind me to you forever, or am I the same as the Countess? A wife and nothing more to you? The omega to give you heirs but never have the security of your bite? You would... No, thank you. I will not submit to that. I would rather be shunned by society than live through the torture of being your wife and nothing more. Is that truly all that you can give me? Can you not find it in your heart to give me more?” she ended in a plea.

In the time since her heat had ended, I had begun to see a vulnerability in Viola that sparked a need to protect and thus overwhelmed my alpha’s feelings for Hartwell—for I had still not quite reconciled them in my head. My love for my secretary remained. I could not deny the ache that I would never again see that dark head bent over a speech she scribbled for me, knowing I’d never give it. Or the way she badgered me to eat properly. And yet, when I looked down on Viola, I knew in my bones that she would be everything and more that I needed. She commanded my soul. She would be my mate… If she ever let me into her nest again.

“I will try. I will try with every fibre of my being to be the alpha, the man you need. I will never stop…”

“Try? You will try,” her voice broke. “Did those months mean nothing to you? Is your pride so wounded, your skin so thin that you do not understand that I am Hartwell? Viola? All are me and I am all.”

“Hush. I will undo this tangle,” I purred. For now, at least, I needed to keep her various names and those memories separate. “Let me try to make you as happy as I know you will make me. I just hope you will not hate me...”

I rested my forehead on hers, breathing in her scent. My body shuddered with desire. Not carnal desire, but the desire of a heart which prayed that I could work some miracle.

“I will make you my wife. I will never leave you vulnerable,” I promised. “No rough breeze shall touch your cheek while you belong to me… As you already belong to me.”

A knock on the door, and Timms’ insistence that I come forced me away from Viola before she could reply. Before she protested her hatred… Or that I had not mated her? I was not sure. I would mate her, but cooler heads would make that decision. I could be a coward in small doses, it seemed. Timms had nothing important to say. Just a note from Florey informing me that he expected an announcement in the Times by tomorrow. I growled at the presumption. But instructed Timms to write it up for my inspection.

Viola would be my duchess, but upon returning to the nest I found her hunting about the piles of clothes for something that was not covered in cum and slick. I scoffed. Her everything, mind, body, and soul, belonged to me. She pulled a chemise over her head. It was ripped and hung lopsided on her body in a manner far more enticing than she perhaps realised. When I asked why she needed clothes, she informed me that she could not return home naked.

“You are home,” I informed her. “This is your nest. You will have no other... Except for the one at Ayleigh. There is a nest there. We will have your next heat in that nest.”

“We are not yet mated. We are not married. There is nothing that requires me to stay with you. Did you mate me? No,” she snarled, baring her neck, taunting me with my civility.

“That is a formality for the law.”

“We are not yet mated,” she shouted. I smiled at the aggravation which coloured her voice and brought a delightful flush to her cheeks.

“Is that what it will take?” I reached forward to snag an ankle and pull her towards me. “I was civilised and did not mate you during your heat. But I do not need to be civilised now that you have agreed to marry me. It might not take, but if you want me to bite into your mating gland… Trust me, Hartwell, I will gladly put more of my marks on you.”

“I have not! You do not make sense, Your Grace.” Goddess, I loved the way she sneered my title, it made me hard for some inexplicable reason. Everything about her made me hard, had from almost the moment we met. I loved how her eyes flashed. So similar to countless times before when things had been simpler. “I have not agreed to marry you. How can we be happy when you have not forgiven me? Your Grace, I will not be subjected—”

“Syon,” I bit out. Once was cute, the second was just obnoxious. “You will call me Syon.”

“Syon, then,” she snapped. “We just spoke about this. I must go home. They will be mad with worry.”

“They know where you are. Your uncle just sent a note. I am to send a notice to the Times. And in three weeks, when the banns have been read, we will be married. ”

“But it is not where I am meant to be,” she began rummaging once again for more clothes.

“Your Graces?” Horne said through the door.

“What!” I shouted, still glaring at my little omega.

“A Miss Iris Hartwell is here.”

“See!” Viola cried out and jumped up from the nest, heedless of her near-nudity. “Iris will help me!”

“Put some damn clothes on!”

“Fine,” she spat and grabbed a too large dressing gown from the edge of the nest that had miraculously managed to escape her heat clean. She ran fingers through her tangled hair. She looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. I grinned.

* * *

“My Goddess, Viola!” Iris stumbled backwards. Viola didn’t just look fright but she probably smelled of heat sex, and the collar of bruises around her neck was enough to demonstrate exactly what I’d been doing.

“YOU!” Iris glared. “You ruined my sister! Did you mate her? I… Name your seconds.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t beat him in a duel. And there will be no repercussions. His Grace saw me through my heat but didn’t mate me. I’ll bathe and return home. An omega can be helped through her heat without the need to then be tied to the alpha even if mated,” she glared at me. “This…”

“That is Scottish law! The Act of Union makes those laws… We are in England!” Iris looked at her as if she was mad. “A mating bite means you belong to that alpha…”

“Oh,” Viola looked at me a little lost. “Are we in England?”

“Heat head?” Iris asked. She heaved a sigh. “Omegas. Go through a heat, then all they want to do is not eat the food they’ve asked for and talk nonsense.”

I blinked at the siblings. Iris, I was not warming to. She’d come to challenge me but was distracted from her purpose at the smallest diversion. Viola meanwhile had discovered her reflection in the mirror and was throwing surreptitious glances at the rat’s nest on her head.

“Shall we agree that Viola Hartwell will be my wife and in her next heat I shall mate her? Next, we can agree that you, Iris Hartwell, can leave?”

“No.” Came from two voices. Now that I looked at them they were not so like at all. I should have felt like a fool, but instead I was impressed that Hartwell had pulled it off.

“Very well. Iris Hartwell, I accept your challenge. But informally, I’m not inclined to hurt my future sister in law.”

“Ridiculous. It’s not a fair fight!” Viola complained. “Iris, I’ll fight in your name.”

Iris threw her hands in the air. A picture of resignation. “Vi, I’ve said it since the beginning, you will go your own way to the devil.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll go home and get some proper—“

“You have clothes here,” I told her.

“I want pistols,” she snapped.

“You are not the one challenged. I pick swords.”

She moved so fast I almost missed the moment her little hand slapped my face.

“Picking a fight with me, Puss?” I grinned through the sting.

“As you see,” she glared.

“Would you like pistols, my little omega?”

“I’m neither yours nor little,” she huffed, but I could see a little smile peeking through.

“But you are an omega.”

“Well, is this happening or not? I promised to pay the countess a call after this to let her know how you are, she has been worried,” Iris complained.

“Making up to Lady Clare?” I smirked.

“Yes. You’ve a problem with that?”

“Take milquetoast if that’s to your taste.”

“Get out of here, Iris. I can handle this. Tell my aunt I will be home for dinner.”

Iris looked at me. There was a little tick at her jaw. I thought her a poor excuse for an alpha to leave her sister like this. How could she believe her sister safe? It proved that none but I could be counted on to protect the hellion at my side.

“Vi. Beat him. Beat him so well he won’t forget the name Hartwell.”

“Ha! By the end of this, her name won’t be Hartwell,” I promised the twins.

* * *

Two hours later, I met with my Hartwell in the long gallery. We’d negotiated that she could bathe on her own. But she would not leave for fresh clothes, which meant she was in the first gown she’d worn in this house, the one that had been carefully stored since that fateful day many weeks ago, kept my servants even after I’d commanded it burnt. Her hair was still wet, and she’d left it loose falling over one shoulder, causing the fine cotton fabric to turn almost sheer with how wet it was.

“You look lovely, my dear.” And she did. Beyond what mere words could say for she glowed.

“You took a bath,” she replied. I would have thought her tone provoking except for her one nervous tick, she was playing with the collar of her dress.

“We’ve seconds.” I turned and indicated Paxton and Fordom who’d arrived on my doorstep ready to find my corpse.

“I take Fordom,” she said quickly. “He was in the army and smells like family.”

“The lady has taste,” the alpha smiled. “Let’s get this finished. You didn’t call for a doctor, Orley…”

“We can fire at a target that isn’t breathing,” I informed the bloodthirsty omega who was glaring at me.

“That isn’t any fun,” Viola pouted. “I’d rather put a bullet through you.”

“Hartwell omegas and shooting alphas who have their best interests at heart… To be clear, you are all mad!” Paxton snapped. “Thank Goddess, I am not acting for you.”

“I hate you,” she snapped.

“Children,” Fordom growled in an unexpected show of temper from the normally sardonic alpha. “Decorum, please. I think this ancient knight and his fellow will make fine targets.”

I looked over at the suits of armour he had chosen. “They’ll do.”

“How will this work?” Viola asked with a frown.

“Whomsoever hits the target closest to the heart wins.”

“That isn’t how a duel works!”

“This isn’t a duel,” Fordom told her, allowing a bit of alpha to colour his words. “You are both letting off steam. Have this as a bet. What is the stake?”

“Whatever you choose,” I told her. “Gentlemen, I would like to speak with her before…”

“Of course,” Paxton nodded.

I put a hand on the back of her neck and steered her a little away from the other odd duo. I looked deep into her violet eyes while I gathered my thoughts. Each word must count for this was my last chance to convince her with words.

“Viola Hartwell. You are mine. By law and by my will. You passed your heat with me—I didn’t bite you out of respect but that don’t make you any less mine. However, I will give you a choice now. If you win, you can have whatever you want. I cannot promise the crown jewels, but if it is in my power, it is yours.”

“My freedom?” she asked but her eyes did not meet mine.

“Yes.”  It should have been painful to say that one little word, but I promised her everything. Even if it meant her freedom, I’d give it to her.

“And if you win?”

“You are my wife.”

“Is’t that simple to you? That you will have me as a wife? A broodmare? Is that… Is that all you think of me?”

“No, my dear Hartwell. I think of you as much more than that. But that is all I will ask of you. If you wish to become my mate in your next heat, I will gladly mark you. All I ask is for your hand in marriage. Anything else is in your power, and your power alone, to give.”

“I’m going to beat you,” she pronounced so sweetly that my heart gave a nervous kick.

“You can try,” I kissed her forehead. She’d be mine. Viola might be a cracking shot, but I was better.

What happened next was like a dream to both Viola Hartwell and Syon, Duke of Orley. They took their positions, back to back with only their clothes between them. Viola leant back a fraction, her body’s heat seeping through Syon’s shirt. Perhaps this distracted him, for when the guns went off his went wide, and Viola’s shot hit the mark with such accuracy that caused Fordom let out a whoop of excitement.

I stood, frozen to the spot, my senses only just returning. I had not fired wide on purpose. I was not a fool. This was my only sure chance of making Viola mine. Perhaps it was that scent of violets and vanilla that distracted me. Or maybe it was nerves. But now the portrait of the second duke had a hole in it.

“I won,” Viola said joyfully. “Oh! Syon! I won! Isn’t… Aren’t you impressed? I told you I was better than you.”

“You did. I’ll… I’ll go and see about ordering a carriage to take you home.” Blood rushed through my ears, filtering out any thought but the building dread that I’d lost her forever. “Paxton, Fordom. Good day to you both.”

“Do the right thing, lassie,” Fordom said, some of his Scottish accent slipping out. “He loves you even if he hasn’t said it yet.”

“I know my business,” she snapped. “I wish to speak with Syon in private. You can leave.”

She dismissed them as if it were her own house. But nothing good ever came when an omega used that tone.

“I’ve already promised to let you leave,” I gritted out and refusing to look at the beloved creature, who’d demand her freedom.

“I’m not asking for freedom. I want to be the one who reads my speech before the House of Lords. Perhaps then I will consider marrying you.”