They rode hard through the night.
Cassian stayed silent in the saddle, every jolt of the horse grinding him back against the thick ridge of Vane’s cock.
The General’s arm never loosened.
By the time the war camp came into view, Cassian’s thighs ached and his cock was still half-hard from the unfinished touch in the square.
Vane’s private tent stood apart from the others, heavy canvas, guarded, lit from within by low braziers.
Inside it smelled of leather, steel, and the dense, dark musk of an Alpha who had not bothered to mask himself in weeks.
Cassian’s own scent answered the moment the flap closed behind them, sweet and unwillingly open.
Vane stripped his gauntlets and dropped them on a table.
“Kneel.” Cassian stayed on his feet.
“You said you needed me alive.
That doesn’t mean I crawl.” Vane turned.
Golden eyes tracked him with open hunger.
“You will crawl when I tell you to.
For now, kneel because I want a clear look at what I claimed.” Cassian’s jaw tightened.
He went to his knees on the thick rug, spine straight, chin lifted in defiance that felt thinner by the second.
Vane stepped in close.
The toe of his boot nudged Cassian’s knees farther apart until the Omega’s thighs spread wide.
Then the General crouched, one hand under Cassian’s chin, the other already working the ties of his torn tunic.
“I didn’t take you for a public execution,” Vane said, voice low.
“I took you because the dark energy in my blood is eating me alive.
Old battle wound.
Nothing the camp healers can touch.
Your bloodline carries the only gift that can.
Sensory healing.
Touch.
Scent alignment.
Direct contact with an Omega’s body and pheromones.
That is the price of your life.” Cassian’s breath caught.
“You want me to heal the man who burned my city.” “I want you to keep me alive long enough to finish what I started.
In return you stay breathing and under my protection instead of the High Council’s knives.” Vane pushed the tunic off Cassian’s shoulders, leaving him bare to the waist.
Cool air and Alpha heat hit his skin at the same time.
“Now strip the rest.
I need to see every place the energy might answer.” Cassian’s hands shook as he worked his boots and trousers down.
He was already hard again, cock flushed and leaking against his stomach.
Slick had soaked the cloth between his thighs.
The moment the last of his clothing hit the floor, Vane’s scent thickened, rolling over him in a heavy wave that made his hole clench and his nipples tighten.
Vane’s bare hand settled on his chest, palm flat over his heartbeat.
“Breathe.
Let your scent rise.” “I don’t want to.” “Your body already is.” Vane’s thumb brushed one nipple, slow, then the other, watching them harden under the touch.
“Your cock is dripping.
Your hole is wet.
The gift activates through arousal and proximity.
You will give me both.” He pushed Cassian onto his back on the low sleeping pallet.
The Alpha’s weight followed, one knee forcing Cassian’s thighs wide.
Warm fingers traced the line of his sternum, down the soft plane of his stomach, then lower, wrapping around his cock without warning.
Cassian arched with a sharp sound.
“Sensitive,” Vane murmured.
“Good.
The more responsive you are, the stronger the transfer.” He stroked once, twice, firm and measured, spreading the wetness over the head.
“Tell me if it hurts.” “It doesn’t hurt.
It feels… wrong.” “Wrong is not the same as unwanted.” Vane’s free hand slid between Cassian’s legs, two fingers finding the slick entrance and pressing in without ceremony.
Cassian’s hips jerked.
A broken moan tore out of him.
The fingers pushed deeper, curling, searching.
“There,” Vane said, voice rougher now.
“The energy answers through the body’s core.
Your scent is already changing to match mine.
Feel it?” Cassian could.
The air between them tasted of steel and smoke and something sweeter, something that belonged to both of them.
His cock throbbed in Vane’s fist.
Slick poured around the fingers stretching him open.
Every slow thrust of those fingers sent sparks racing up his spine.
“Look at me while I do this.” Cassian forced his eyes open.
Vane’s face was close, golden eyes half-lidded, mouth slightly open as he worked him.
The General’s own cock strained hard against his trousers, the outline thick and obvious.
“You’re hard too,” Cassian managed, voice wrecked.
“This isn’t just healing.” “It never was only healing.” Vane added a third finger, stretching him wider, the wet sound obscene in the quiet tent.
“Your gift requires deep physical contact.
Full scent alignment.
Sometimes more.
I will take what the affliction demands and I will take what I want while I do it.
You will open for both.” Cassian’s head tipped back.
His thighs shook.
The dual stimulation of the fist on his cock and the fingers working inside him pushed him toward the edge far too fast.
He tried to hold still, tried to keep some scrap of control, but his hips moved on their own, fucking himself down onto Vane’s hand.
“That’s it,” Vane growled.
“Take it.
Let the energy move.” A low pulse of heat spread through Cassian’s body, different from ordinary arousal.
It felt like something leaving him and something else answering, dark and hungry, reaching back through the places they touched.
His cock jerked hard in Vane’s grip.
Slick soaked the Alpha’s wrist.
“Vane—” “Come.” The command hit like a physical blow.
Cassian’s orgasm tore through him, sharp and helpless.
He spilled over Vane’s fist and his own stomach, hole clenching tight around the fingers still buried inside him.
The pulse of healing energy flared with it, bright and raw.
Vane’s breath caught.
For a moment the dark lines under the General’s skin, faint and ugly, seemed to ease.
Cassian lay shaking, oversensitive, still stretched open.
Vane withdrew his fingers slowly, then brought them to his own mouth and tasted the slick without looking away.
“First transfer complete,” he said.
“Weak, but real.
We will deepen it.
Every night.
Longer.
Harder.
Until the affliction is gone or you break.” Cassian’s voice came out hoarse.
“And if I refuse?” Vane leaned down, mouth brushing the shell of his ear, the thick length of his cock pressing hot against Cassian’s hip through the fabric.
“You already came on my hand while your city burned behind us.
Your body answered the claim.
Refuse with your mouth if it helps you sleep.
Your scent and your cock will keep saying yes.” He stood, unfastened his own trousers, and freed the heavy length of his cock.
It was thick, flushed dark, already wet at the tip.
Cassian’s mouth went dry.
“Tonight you only take my fingers and my scent,” Vane said.
“Tomorrow I decide how much more the healing requires.
Clean yourself.
Then lie still.
I am not finished inspecting what belongs to me.” Cassian’s pulse hammered.
He could still feel the ghost of those fingers inside him.
His cock twitched again, already interested despite the orgasm.
The tent felt smaller.
Vane’s pheromones pressed against every inch of bare skin.
He stayed on his back, legs still open, and waited for the General’s hands to return.