The hunger in her eyes was intimidating; it seemed like her mirror-like eyes had become slightly predatory.
A slight chitter escaped her throat like a purr, the pupils of her fever-dazed eyes blown out, fixed on him.
He did not dare look away.
He could feel his own primal mind trying to take control; he had been receiving exchanges for years to force his libido into a dull ache.
Now with an omega in front of him, he was struggling to keep that side of him under control.
He had to be careful.
“Whoa, easy. Gentle.” Owen said, to both her and himself.
He staggered, slipping on the wet floor.
Before he could react, she was on him, pushing him down onto the cool porcelain tiles.
Water cascaded over them both as she straddled his hips, her wet skin sliding against the soaked fabric of his trousers.
Her hands fumbled frantically with his pants as if it were a puzzle.
“Hah,” Cait grunted in frustration as she tried to work his belt buckle, seeing people in this state always perturbed him.
He had been taught since he was of age to control his primal mind.
“I will help.” Owen said.
She growled at him, actually growled at him.
He laughed.
Cait frustrated by then, struggling with the fastening of his pants, she ended up ripping and shredding the opening.
“Easy, you are eager. But it will hurt.” Owen said, somewhat bemused by her sudden aggressiveness.
She was assertive like an Alpha.
He was nervous.
He knew how this went; he had seen pornography.
Luckily, she was a little more forward than he was.
He was grateful that she was experienced.
“Mm, ngh.” he groaned as she grasped him.
Freed, his cock sprang hard and thick against her slick, boiling hot heat.
She gripped him with both of her hands.
Positioning herself above him, she locked her gaze onto his, a fierce, possessive certainty burning in her eyes.
“That will hurt you. Let’s take it slow.” Owen tried to calm her down.
He did not want this to hurt her, he did not want to remember it like this.
“Ahh.” Cait moaned as she agonizingly slowly lowered herself onto him, taking him inch by straining inch.
She moved a hand to her folds as they clung to his cock, parting them so she could take him further.
She spread her legs and herself further.
“Mmmm…” A deep, guttural moan tore from her throat as she sheathed him fully, her head thrown back, water plastering her silver-blonde hair to her skull.
“Take it slow,” Owen gasped, a ragged sound lost under the spray.
The sensation was overwhelming, tight, scorching heat enveloping him, her inner muscles rippling with instinctive need.
He’d expected passivity, surrender.
Like an Omega.
Not this raw, relentless claiming.
“Fuck, oh. You are going to snap me in half,” he groaned, and then she moved.
It was exquisite, his head rolled back as she began to take what she needed from him.
The heat of her and friction.
He bit his lower lip and gasped.
He did not want to disappoint her.
Her hips began to move, a fierce, driving rhythm.
Up and down, grinding hard against him, taking exactly what she needed.
Her small breasts bounced with the force of her movements, her wet skin gleaming under the fluorescent light.
His primal brain took control, like a fog rolling in on a field of wheat.
He struggled beneath her, trying to regain dominance, trying to flip her, but her grip on his shoulders was iron, her thighs clamped tight.
She rode him with single-minded intensity, her breaths sharp pants mingling with the drumming water and whimpers.
Frustration warred with intense pleasure.
Owen wriggled and grunted as he struggled, soaking wet.
He managed to wrestle his sodden shirt off, tossing it blindly out of the shower stall.
His trousers followed, kicked away in a tangle of wet wool.
Naked now, slick skin against slick skin, the friction intensified, electric.
He grasped her hips.
Her pace didn’t slow.
She drove herself down onto him again and again, her cries growing louder, more desperate.
As she lifted herself slightly, Owen caught a glimpse of crimson streaking the base of his cock where it disappeared into her body.
The sight of her virgin blood mingling with water and her slick sent a primal jolt through him.
His hands grasped her buttock, fingers digging into the firm muscle beneath her flushed skin.
He stopped her frantic rhythm, holding her still for a heartbeat.
Then, with a growl that vibrated deep in his chest, he surged upwards, thrusting hard into her depths while simultaneously pulling her down onto him with brutal force.
He took control of the tempo, pistoning his hips upward, driving into her with deep, punishing strokes.
She cried out, not in protest but in ecstatic release, her body arching, clenching around him impossibly tighter.
The water beat down, washing away the blood, but the fierce connection remained, raw and undeniable.
He kept thrusting, relentless, each powerful drive forcing a choked gasp from her lips.
Her inner muscles fluttered wildly around him, signaling her climax, but he didn’t stop.
He needed more.
With a grunt of effort, he planted his feet flat on the slick tiles and hauled himself upright, lifting her with him as if she weighed nothing.
Her legs instinctively locked around his waist, her arms clinging to his neck.
He slammed her back against the cold, wet tile wall.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs.
He pinned her there, the water cascading over his broad shoulders as he hammered into her with renewed ferocity.
Her cries fragmented into sharp, rhythmic gasps, echoing off the tiles.
Her head lolled back against the wall, silver hair plastered to her temples, her eyes squeezed shut.
He felt the telltale tightening in his balls, the unstoppable surge.
With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep and roared as his release tore through him, hot pulses filling her clenching heat.
‘Would it be enough.
Usually there is more than one Alpha present during estrus.’ He sagged against her, panting, the aftershocks still rippling through him.
He tried to pull away, to separate their sweat-slicked bodies.
But Cait whimpered, a high, needy sound, and tightened her legs around him.
Her inner muscles clenched down hard, impossibly tight, locking him inside her.
Owen froze.
He felt it, a subtle swelling at his base, an unfamiliar, deep-rooted pressure.
His eyes snapped open, widening in disbelief.
“Fucking impossible, you are no Alpha.” he hissed, the words raw with shock.
Owen tried to pull back again, gently this time, but she cried out in sharp protest, her body instinctively resisting separation.
The knotting reflex usually only found in Alphas was intensely intimate, and had triggered on her side.
It was not possible.
How?
He did not know.
He would have to ask for an omega or a doctor.
He could not go out in the hall or page anyone at the moment.
He felt himself hardening again within her, engorging rapidly, painfully trapped by her body’s fierce grip.
His cock throbbed, trapped and swelling further against her tightness.
“Damn,” he groaned, a mixture of exasperation and undeniable arousal flooding him.
He couldn’t separate without hurting her.
Normally, a male alpha would knot; it would happen when he initiated it?
Helpless, trapped by her baffling biology and his own surging equal response, Owen staggered out of the shower, dripping water across the gleaming bathroom floor.
He carried her easily, her legs still locked around him, her face buried against his neck, breathing in ragged gasps.
He kicked the bathroom door open wider and stumbled towards the wide medical bed.
He lowered them both onto the cool, sterile sheets.
The moment his back hit the mattress, Cait shifted, straddling him again, her body demanding.
She mewled as she took him.
She began to move, riding him with slow, deep rolls of her hips, grinding against him, his cock sliding until its head could no longer withdraw and back in, keeping him buried deep inside her.
Owen groaned as he swelled more in response, his hands gripping her ass, fingers sinking into the firm flesh.
He arched his hips upward, meeting her downward thrusts, driving deeper into her slick heat.
“Harder,” she gasped, her mercury eyes blazing down at him, wild and commanding.
He obeyed.
He fucked her hard, the bed frame creaking beneath the force of his thrusts, his own release building again, inevitable and fierce beneath the relentless pull of her body.
A low, contented sigh escaped him despite the intensity, surrendering completely to the primal rhythm she demanded.
The knot held, binding them impossibly close.
Cait arched her back, her small breasts lifting towards the ceiling, nipples hard peaks against the cool air.
Her body began to tremble violently, a cascade of sensation building from her core.
Owen watched, mesmerized, as her muscles clenched rhythmically around him, tighter and tighter.
“Ngh,” A choked cry tore from her throat, followed by a sudden gush of slick warmth flooding between them, soaking the sheets beneath her hips – her own wet orgasm washing over her in powerful waves.
Her head fell back, a shudder wracking her frame.
“Owen…” she breathed, the name a ragged sigh of release.
The moment her climax subsided, Owen acted.
With a grunt of effort, he gripped her hips and flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath him.
He pulled his hips back slightly, the swollen knot grasping him deliciously, then slammed forward again, driving deep.
He took her hard in the missionary position, his gaze raking over her flushed skin.
His large hands slid appreciatively over the hard planes of her abdomen, tracing the defined muscles trembling beneath her damp skin.
He felt her fullness with him; she was so thin her lower abdomen seemed to protrude every time he buried himself deeply.
He cupped one small breast, thumb circling her tight nipple, then slid his hand down again to feel the flex of her stomach muscles beneath his palm.
“Cait, you’re incredible, just how are you doing this?” he breathed, his voice thick with awe.
The bed groaned and shook violently beneath their frantic rhythm.
She bit down and licked on his wrist, her tongue lashing it.
It stung, but he was beyond thinking.
His primal self couldn’t get enough.
Her scent was delicious and curling into his brain.
Her hands grabbed his right arm tightly as moved her on top of him, the sounds of their wet flesh slapping echoed.
He slid his hands under her ass, lifting her effortlessly off the mattress, and surged upright.
He carried her to the nearest wall, pressing her back against the cool surface, her legs wrapping around him again.
He pounded into her, the knot still anchoring him deep, each thrust driving her shoulders against the wall.
Her cries were sharp gasps now, her energy flagging.
He didn’t stop; he could not.
He moved them again, staggering towards the large shielded window overlooking the city.
He bent her over the wide sill, her palms pressing against the cool glass.
He gripped her hips and drove into her, relentless.
The swollen knot clenched him impossibly, each deep thrust pulling a weak whimper from her lips.
Then it hit her – a final, overwhelming climax.
Her body arched, a silent scream on her lips, her toes curling fiercely in the air.
She shuddered violently against him, collapsing backward onto the sill, utterly spent.
“Ah, ah, ah.” Cait moaned, her head lolling.
Her body was trembling violently, exhaustion warring with the fading dregs of her rut.
His abdomen was soaked from her, the windowsill as well.
He was going to get the dirtiest looks from the Omega cleaning staff over the next couple of days while he visited her.
The realization hit him.
He wanted, no, needed to continue seeing her after this.
She had claimed him herself.
His hand stung from it.
Owen felt the change instantly.
The fierce, clenching grip eased, replaced by limp exhaustion.
Yet the knot remained, binding them.
He groaned, his own arousal still painfully hard.
He pulled her limp body back against his chest, her head lolling against his shoulder.
He carried her back to the bed, lowering them both carefully onto the soaked sheets.
He positioned himself behind her awkwardly, spooning her trembling form.
“I got to free us.” Owen whispered.
He began moving again, slow, deep thrusts, his cock still trapped and very swollen inside her.
He had become so painfully erect after she knotted.
He took her gently now that he had his mind back, chasing his own release and praying she would release.
Her moans came out gently, his hand sliding over her stomach and breasts, feeling the faint tremors still coursing through her.
Her breathing grew shallow, her eyelids fluttering closed.
She was moments from passing out, completely drained.
Owen pressed his lips to her damp temple, a possessive rumble vibrating in his chest as he continued to move within her, claiming every last ounce of her surrender.
His hand drifted lower, tracing the curve of her hipbone before slipping between her thighs.
His fingers found her swollen clit, slick and sensitive even now.
He circled it slowly, deliberately, feeling her inner muscles flutter weakly around his trapped cock in response.
His other hand slid up to cup her small breast, thumb brushing over her hardened nipple.
He kept thrusting, shallow and deep, his breath hot against her neck.
“You made me yours, you can let go. I won’t leave you.” he murmured against her skin, his words rough with possession.
His fingers worked her clit faster now, adding friction to the slow drag of his cock inside her.
He shifted his grip, hands settling firmly on her hips, pulling her back onto him with each deliberate thrust.
The knot was finally beginning to soften, allowing slightly more movement.
He drove into her one last time, deep and hard, burying himself fully as his orgasm ripped through him.
He shuddered violently, his hips jerking against her ass as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over him.
He collapsed forward, his body draped heavily over hers, forehead pressed between her shoulder blades, gasping for air.
The knot eased completely, finally releasing its hold.
He slid free, spent and trembling.
Owen lay there for long moments, the only sounds their ragged breathing and the relentless drumming of the shower still pouring down in the adjoining bathroom.
He felt utterly drained, muscles trembling with fatigue.
He pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking down at Cait.
She was deeply unconscious, her breathing even, her silver hair tangled across the pillow.
Sweat plastered his own dark hair to his forehead, dripping sweat onto her shoulder.
He glanced down at himself; he was drenched in it.
With a groan, he rolled off the bed, staggering slightly as his feet hit the floor.
He stumbled into the bathroom, reaching blindly through the spray to twist the faucet handle to hot.
He washed himself quickly and looped a towel around his waist.
Silence crashed in.
He leaned against the wet tile wall, catching his breath.
His eyes flicked to the timer display integrated into the shower panel.
The glowing red numbers punched through the haze: ’05h:17m’.
Five hours.
They’d been locked together for five brutal, primal hours.
He stared at the water swirling down the drain.
His mind felt strangely clearer than it had ever been, wiped clean by exertion and shock.
‘What had he just done?
What had they just done?
Would she get pregnant from this?
Or was she too sick?’ he thought.
The sterile silence of the suite pressed in, heavy with the scent of sex, sweat, and fading floral.
He needed Kieran.
Now.
Owen pushed off the wall, dripping water onto the pristine floor as he padded naked back into the bedroom.
His suit jacket lay discarded near the bathroom door.
He snatched it up, rummaging frantically through the inner pockets.
Relief washed over him as his fingers closed around the familiar, sleek rectangle of his Comms device.
It was full of alerts of missed calls and messages.
He thumbed it on, ignoring the notifications flooding the screen, and hit Kieran’s priority contact.
The call connected instantly.
“Owen?” Kieran’s voice was impatient.
“Status, how is she?”
Owen leaned against the cold wall beside the bed, his gaze fixed on Cait’s sleeping form.
His voice was rough, stripped raw.
“Ready for the doctors. I will need clothes.” He paused, swallowing.
“Her rut was intense… her primal override was like a crazed Alpha. She knotted. Around me. I was trapped! I couldn’t disengage. Not until…” He gestured vaguely towards the bed, though Kieran couldn’t see.
“…until she was completely spent. It took five hours. Does that happen with Omegas?”
Silence fell on the other side of the phone, he did not know if Kieran was grossed out or not.
He did not like this kind of stuff.The words felt surreal, inadequate to describe it.
He heard Kieran sigh.
“Also, she needs clothes. Size double-zero. Soft fabric. Bedclothes for the hospital and something to wear home.” He paused again, the next words tumbling out with startling certainty, a truth he couldn’t deny after feeling her body lock onto his like a biological imperative.
“And Kieran… I think she’s it. My biological destined mate. Some mark appeared on my hand.”
There was a beat of silence on the other end.
Then Kieran’s dry tone returned, laced with a hint of amusement.
“Wild indeed. Haven’t heard of it, but I do not know any Omega women. Ask your mother.” Kieran said with some annoyance.
Owen raked his face, his tone reluctant.
“Can’t you ask your Father?” His mother was awful, a stranger to him.
If he even tried, she would probably tell ally families about this Omega.
He wanted to keep this to himself for as long as possible; mostly, he did not want his mom to influence her.
Someone with Omegan expectations for a girl who has lived a beta lifestyle.
“Negative, I will not be doing that. Size double-zero clothes, I will do it gladly. Understood?” Kieran said with a pause.
“Guess you owe me one? Well, learning that stuff about her, well…I can’t be mad at her at all for taking you.” Kieran sighed, the sound carrying a distinct note of weary distaste.
“The DNA test results came back while you were… occupied.” Another pause, heavier this time.
“Owen… Cait Agneau. She’s the daughter of Lord Albert Rose. The long-lost heir. She’s of the Rose Clan. She’s… my sister.” The words landed like stones in the silent room.
“That sister?” Owen said and froze, the damp comms device suddenly dropping on the bed.
Fragments of memory slammed into him.
There was a movie about this: Albert Rose and a Beta Dominant woman abandoned by the Engel clan signed a contractual breeding agreement shrouded in secrecy.
The Engel and Rose clan were bitter enemies.
The woman vanished, taking the infant with her.
Albert chased ghosts across continents, pouring resources into the search until hope dwindled to bitter obsession.
Owen had witnessed the hollow grief etched into Albert’s features; the frantic energy had faded into resigned melancholy in the decades since the scandal.
Kieran, as a child, had watched his father’s fixation from a distance and had briefly spoken to him a few times.
The Rose clan was famous for it; the movie was a classic.
Albert was going to be pissed off and out for blood now that she was found alive.
He stared at his hand.
This was impossible.
Her exhaustion seemed palpable to him, like spiderwebs ebbing at the back of his mind, tethering him to guard her.
A tense unrest and fear rattled him.
‘Am I really feeling this connection?
I must,’ he thought.
“Owen…are you still there?” Kieran’s voice probed.
“Yeah, yeah….” he paused.
He rubbed his face.
Owen’s gaze snapped back to Cait’s sleeping form; she was like a raw gem.
The silver blonde hair, the eye-catching siren-like features beneath the exhaustion, sickness, and malnourishment… a faint shared resemblance with Kieran, and a female copy of Albert, but so profoundly beautiful.
The impossible rarity – a female Omega from a Beta-Dominant.
A legitimate Princess.
The words Amon had used suddenly held terrifying, concrete weight.
It was as if the Omega recognized her with a simple whiff.
Kieran, a legitimate nobleman in his own right, was compelled enough to offer a favor to him to help with her treatment, like his body knew family before his mind did.
It was probably why he easily conceded.
“Fuck,” Owen breathed, the word raw.
“That complicates things exponentially.” His mind raced – Albert Rose’s obsessive nature, his ruthless ambition, his fierce, possessive love twisted by years of loss.
“Your father… he won’t just not ‘like’ this, Kieran. He’ll claim her and use her. He’ll demand control. He’ll see her as the ultimate Rose asset.”
“Owen, we don’t need to be afraid of him. It is probably for the best that we found her.” Kieran said.
He sighed wearily.
“In the end, it is not my father’s choice, though he is going to be painfully clingy, knowing him. Even though he gave up hope.” Kieran paused, his voice hardening slightly.
“You remember getting you out of Alba, right? You sure you want to go back or bring her there?” Owen asked.
“I know what your thinking. She consented to ‘you’, Owen. The ABO cohabitation agreement is binding; she is in your care. Not his. Albert can rage, but legally, her designated Alpha is you. Biologically…” Kieran trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air – the claiming, the undeniable biological pull Owen had just confessed to feeling.
“…biologically, it seems fate has already weighed in that she at least physically approves of you.”
“What is a Rose, without a Thorne,” Owen said into the microphone as he stared at Cait’s sleeping form, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest beneath the damp sheet.
Princess.
Rose Clan heir.
His biological destined mate.
With how compatible Kieran and he were, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he was right.
The implications crashed over him – corporate alliances, political maneuvering, Albert Rose’s notoriously volatile possessiveness.
His knuckles whitened around the comms device.
Owen remembered his manic intensity years ago, the way he’d spoken of the unborn Omega daughter he lost– not as a child, but as a dynasty-forging miracle.
“He won’t care about her life experience, her exhaustion, her trauma. He’ll demand an audience immediately.” Owen rubbed the bridge of his nose.
He was her father, she’d want to know him.
The bottom fell out of her life.
“We’ll just have to keep him in check. She will have to return to Alba, unless you want to start a war. Plus we have to check to see what debts my dear father wrote in her name.” Kieran responded.
He was surprised Owen was this on board.
“I will do my best to protect and insulate her from that, and being stuck in Alba in a tower for the rest of her life. I have rescued a prince, I can do the same thing with a princess. Kieran I will need your help.” Owen responded with a sigh.
He moved a lock of silver hair off her forehead.
“Understood, and thank you,” Kieran replied, his tone shifting to brisk efficiency.
“I’ll procure the clothes for both of you. Size double-zero, soft fabric. And… Owen? Secure the suite. Full privacy lockdown. Authorized access: You, me, and Dr. Jameson only. Until they finish their work and we change to a safer location.” The line clicked off.
Owen lowered the comms device, the silence pressing in again.
The scent of sex and primal exertion lingered, mixed now with the sterile tang of the ABO suite.
He moved stiffly, every muscle protesting, and activated the suite’s security panel beside the door.
Owen fingers punched in the codes – biometric confirmation, priority lockdown.
Necessary medical staff only.
A soft hum filled the air as magnetic seals engaged, reinforced shielding slid over the windows, and the door’s locking mechanism audibly deepened.
The suite became an impenetrable vault.
He turned back to the bed.
Cait lay utterly still, her silver-blond hair fanned across the pillow like spilled mercury.
Even in deep unconsciousness, exhaustion etched lines around her eyes.
Owen approached slowly, his gaze tracing the faint bruises blooming on her hips where his fingers had dug in, the slight abrasion on her shoulder from the tile wall.
The sight sent a conflicting surge through him, possessiveness warring with a sharp, unfamiliar pang of… something else.
Guilt?
Protectiveness?
Owen’ eyes never left her face.
Princess.
Mate.
Rose.
Agneau.
The woman who’d turned his world upside down in a cascade of primal need and unexpected bloodlines.
He watched her breathe, waiting for the doctor and the chaos.
“Finally,” Dr.
Jameson came into his room, pushing a tray of supplies.
He tossed some scrubs at Owen.
His nose dilated from the scent coming off the young man.
“You know that this is an emergency situation right?” he questioned the whelp of a man in front of him, his eyes narrowing.
Owen rubbed the back of his neck, he swore the doctor bore a grudge towards him.
He had not crossed any omegan males.
‘Perhaps he is an orphan of some sorts, abandoned by an alpha father?
Better to keep it cordial since he is taking care of her.’ Owen thought.
“It took some time to resolve her rut.” Owen guiltily explained.
Dr.
Jameson’s nose twitched as he took in the smell of sex and intense pheromones.
His forehead smoothed as he approached her.
His nose was twitching with the imbalance.
The room was a mess.
“I spoke to your assistant. Full lockdown. You know I have seen the movie. All of us have.” A protective but subtle emotion flared in the doctor’s voice.
“Let the others in, there is too much that needs to be done and equipment that needs to come in.”
Owen thought about the doctor’s words and nodded, carefully recording the names of the nurses on their badges.
“I trust in your discretion, and will make it worthwhile. If you know who I am.” With that, he left the room.