Cassian squeezed into the dark corner of the old temple wall, his heart hammering against his ribs as the enemy crashed through the broken gates.
The air burned with smoke and the metallic smell of blood.
All around him, people were screaming and running for their lives as soldiers filled the courtyard.
He had torn the royal crest off his coat hours ago.
He wiped dirt across his face and forced himself to take slow, shallow breaths, praying his scent-blockers wouldn’t fail.
No one could know he was the last surviving prince of House Lirian.
Not while his city was burning to the ground.
He was so close to making it out.
Just a few steps from the back alley.
Then a hand grabbed his wrist like a steel trap and yanked him back into the open.
Torchlight flashed in his eyes as soldiers backed away to form a wide circle.
And there he stood.
General Vane.
Tall, broad, black armor still wet with other men’s blood.
His presence hit Cassian like a physical blow, Alpha pheromones rolling off him in heavy, dark waves that made the air taste of steel and smoke and something older, something hungry.
Cassian’s knees nearly gave.
His own scent, carefully muted, flared in pure instinctive answer before he could stop it.
Sweet.
Soft.
Omega.
Rare.
Vane’s head turned.
Golden eyes locked on him.
“There,” the General said, voice low and rough.
“Bring him.” They shoved Cassian forward.
He kept his chin up, tried to look like any other prisoner, but the moment Vane stepped close the suppressants crumbled.
Cassian’s scent spilled free, warm and rich, the kind of Omega perfume that made Alphas go still and focused.
Vane inhaled once, slow, and something dangerous settled in his expression.
“Name.” Cassian stayed silent.
Vane’s gloved hand closed on his jaw, tilting his face up.
Thumb pressed hard against his lower lip.
“I asked for a name.” “Does it matter?” Cassian’s voice came out thinner than he wanted.
“You’re going to kill me either way.” “Not yet.” Vane’s gaze dropped, tracing the line of his throat, the pulse jumping there.
“You’re not common stock.
That scent… I’ve only smelled it once before, years ago, in the old court.
Lirian blood.
Healing blood.” His free hand rose, fingers brushing the side of Cassian’s neck where the scent glands sat, already warm and sensitive.
“You tried to hide it.
Failed.” Cassian jerked back.
Vane simply followed, crowding him until Cassian’s back hit the broken stone of a fallen pillar.
The General’s body heat rolled over him, Alpha musk thick enough to taste.
Cassian’s cock twitched traitorously inside his trousers.
Heat prickled low in his belly.
He hated it.
Hated how his body already leaned toward the source of that overwhelming scent.
“Get your hands off me.” “No.” Vane peeled one glove off with his teeth, dropped it.
Bare fingers slid under Cassian’s collar, found the gland at the side of his throat and pressed.
Cassian gasped.
Pleasure-pain sparked straight down his spine.
His knees buckled.
Vane caught him easily, pinning him upright with one thick thigh shoved between Cassian’s legs.
“Sensitive already,” Vane murmured.
“Good.
That means the gift is active.” His thumb rubbed slow circles over the swollen gland.
Cassian’s hips jerked forward before he could stop them, grinding against the hard muscle of Vane’s thigh.
A wet sound escaped him.
Mortifying.
Instant.
Vane’s mouth curved.
“There it is.
The body knows its place even when the mind fights.” “Fuck you.” “Later.” Vane’s hand slid lower, palm flat over Cassian’s chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat, the soft give of an Omega’s body under the rough tunic.
He pushed the fabric up without asking, exposed the pale skin of Cassian’s stomach, the faint trail of hair disappearing into his waistband.
Soldiers watched from a distance.
Cassian burned with shame and something worse.
Vane’s fingers traced the line of his hipbone, then lower, cupping the growing hardness between Cassian’s legs through the cloth.
“Already hard for the man who just took your city.
Tell me that isn’t instinct answering.” Cassian’s breath shuddered.
“It’s not… I don’t want—” “Your cock says otherwise.” Vane squeezed once, firm, and Cassian’s head tipped back against the stone with a broken sound.
Slick threatened, the first warm trickle of it.
He could smell himself now, sweet and needy, mixing with Vane’s darker scent until the air between them felt thick enough to drown in.
Vane leaned in, nose brushing the side of Cassian’s throat, inhaling deep.
“I’m claiming you.
Personal prisoner.
You’ll ride with me tonight, sleep in my tent, and when I decide you’re useful you’ll open for me and heal what needs healing.
Until then…” His hand slipped inside Cassian’s trousers, wrapped around the hot length of him, stroked once from base to tip.
Cassian’s hips snapped forward with a helpless thrust.
“You’ll take what I give you.” “I won’t.” “You will.” Vane’s voice dropped lower, almost gentle, almost kind.
His thumb smeared the wet bead of precum over the head of Cassian’s cock, slow and deliberate.
“Your body is already negotiating the terms.
Listen to it.” Cassian’s hands came up, pushed weakly at the solid wall of Vane’s chest.
It did nothing.
The General kept stroking him, open and shameless in the middle of the ruined square, while Cassian’s thighs trembled and his breath turned ragged.
Every pull of that rough palm sent sparks racing up his spine.
His scent poured out stronger, sweeter, the clear signal of an Omega under Alpha pressure.
Vane’s answering growl vibrated against his skin.
“Look at me.” Cassian forced his eyes open.
Golden ones stared back, predatory and satisfied.
“You’re mine now,” Vane said.
“Say it.” “No.” Vane’s grip tightened, stroked harder, faster.
Cassian’s voice cracked on a moan he couldn’t swallow.
Slick wet the inside of his trousers.
His cock throbbed in the General’s fist, leaking steadily.
“Say it,” Vane repeated, calm as stone, “or I finish you right here in front of every man who just watched your house fall.
Your choice.” Cassian’s pride warred with the sharp edge of approaching orgasm.
His body chose for him.
Hips jerking, thighs shaking, he choked out the words.
“Yours.
I’m… yours.” Vane’s smile was sharp and dark.
He gave one final, deliberate stroke, then released him, leaving Cassian aching and unfinished, cock still hard and wet against his stomach.
The General wiped his hand on Cassian’s tunic like he was cleaning a blade.
“Good.
Bring him to my horse.
He rides with me.” Soldiers moved.
Cassian’s legs barely held.
Vane caught his chin one last time, thumb pressing into the scent gland until Cassian whimpered.
“Tonight,” the General promised, low enough for only him to hear, “I inspect every inch of what I just claimed.
Thoroughly.
And you will keep still while I do it.” Cassian’s pulse thundered.
His body pulsed with unwanted need.
The city burned behind them as Vane swung into the saddle and hauled him up in front, back flush to the hard plane of the Alpha’s chest, the thick ridge of Vane’s cock pressing unmistakable against the curve of his ass.
The horse moved.
Vane’s arm locked around Cassian’s waist, fingers resting low on his stomach, possessive and patient.
Cassian closed his eyes and tried not to lean into the heat.
He failed.
Give me more motivation!