Taming the Wild Beast of Alamina

Thomas returned from the negotiations with Draxil in a mood that made Florian step out of his path without being asked.

That was never a good sign.

Draxil had spent three weeks opposing every reasonable request as if denial could be used as a border defense. No, nothing suspicious could be happening in their territory. No, Claudia’s Palace was not a Draxil problem. No, old foundations tied to dominant-omega sanctuaries did not require outside investigation. No, Alamina and Rohan had no right to interfere.

Then, because apparently Draxil had developed a collective death wish, they had gone further.

They implied Rohan’s interest was political hatred dressed as concern because Rohan and Draxil had been in conflict for over twenty years, and therefore any accusation was obviously aggression.

They accused Alamina of inventing a conspiracy to justify military entry.

Then someone, who Thomas sincerely hoped had enjoyed the last peaceful hours of his career, suggested Andrea Vale had been murdered by Alamina and Rohan to remove Draxil’s dominant omega from the board.

Andrea.

Their dominant omega.

The man who had poisoned Eva, opened paths to beasts, tried to drown Roslew in infection, and died after giving them the name of a palace Draxil now claimed had no relevance.

Worse, they hinted that Eva had not been wounded by Andrea at all.

Perhaps Thomas had injured her.

Perhaps Nero had.

Perhaps the field reports were altered.

Perhaps the surviving witnesses were confused.

Perhaps Draxil’s pride had eaten its own brain.

Arion had smiled.

Thomas had felt his own patience die quietly beside the negotiation table.

Draxil was making enemies of everyone: Alamina, Rohan, Saha, Palatine, and even the people inside their own court who still understood the difference between diplomacy and self-destruction.

Which meant they were either fools or afraid.

Thomas had learned never to assume fools when fear explained more.

The east-sitting room was quiet when Thomas entered, warmed by afternoon sunlight and the low fire burning beneath the marble mantel. Sylvia remained curled beneath a blanket on the sofa, looking healthier than she had in weeks, although the protective collar around her nape and the faint exhaustion beneath her eyes prevented him from forgetting how narrowly he had almost lost her.

His shoulders lowered.

The pressure behind his ribs eased.

Sylvia looked up from her book.

"Hello, Tom."

He crossed the room, bent, and pressed his mouth to her forehead, breathing in the softened trace of her scent beneath the medicinal barriers.

"You should be resting."

"I am sitting."

"You were instructed to sleep."

"I slept earlier."

"How long?"

"Enough."

Thomas looked at her.

Sylvia smiled with no remorse whatsoever.

He sat beside her, one arm settling behind her shoulders as naturally as breathing. She leaned against him, and for several peaceful seconds Thomas believed the worst part of his day had ended.

Then he noticed the abandoned teacup across from her.

"Where is Dean?"

"He left."

"Why?"

"He said Arion required him urgently."

Thomas knew Arion did not require Dean urgently. Arion had been in the council chamber when Thomas left.

His suspicion sharpened.

"What happened?"

"Dean educated me."

Thomas went still.

"About what?"

"My biology."

Every instinct he possessed warned him that retreat was necessary.

Unfortunately, Sylvia was tucked against his side, still fragile enough that moving away from her would feel like rejecting her, and Thomas would sooner face every infected beast.

"What did he tell you?"

"A great deal about omega cycles. Heat replaces ovulation but does not replace menstruation. Male omegas have uteruses, although most of the lining is reabsorbed. There can still be discharge."

Thomas stared straight ahead.

Sylvia shifted closer. "Then he suggested I ask you about alphas."

Of course he had.

Thomas would remember this betrayal.

"What do you need to know?"

"Rut."

Thomas’s arm tightened around her by instinct.

"What about it?"

"What happens?"

"A dominant alpha becomes more territorial, more reactive, and less tolerant of other alphas near their mate."

"That sounds like you normally."

Thomas looked down at her.

Sylvia remained perfectly serious.

"There are physical changes," he said carefully. "Higher body temperature. Increased scent production. Greater aggression. Stronger mating instincts."

"And less control?"

"Not necessarily."

Dean had clearly sent her toward him with information carefully selected to cause maximum damage.

Sylvia studied his face. "Would you hurt me?"

"No."

The answer came hard enough to shake the room.

She blinked.

Thomas forced his voice lower. "Never. Rut does not remove responsibility. If I believed my control was failing, I would leave, use suppressants, or allow myself to be restrained."

Sylvia’s fingers touched his wrist. "I know."

He breathed once, slowly.

Then she asked, "Would you be different during sex?"

Thomas stopped breathing.

Outside, somewhere in the corridor, a servant’s footsteps approached, hesitated, and rapidly retreated.

"Yes," he said eventually.

"How?"

"Sylvia."

"I need to understand before my first heat."

"That does not require a detailed discussion of my anatomy."

"I think it does."

Thomas had interrogated enemy commanders with broken ribs. He had held defensive lines while beasts tore through steel barriers. None of those experiences had prepared him for Sylvia looking up at him with calm medical curiosity while asking questions that made every disciplined thought leave his head.

"You would be stronger," she continued. "More possessive?"

"Yes."

"Would it last longer?"

His jaw flexed. "Yes."

"Would your member be the same?"

Silence swallowed the room.

Thomas stared at the fire.

"No."

Sylvia waited.

He could feel her waiting.

"How is it different?"

"That," Thomas said, "is sufficient information."

"It is not."

"It will have to be."

"Does it become larger?"

He closed his eyes.

Andrea had been easier.

Draxil had been easier.

War had been easier.

"Yes."

"How much?"

"Sylvia."

"And dominant alphas have a knot."

Thomas turned his head slowly. "Dean told you that?"

"He became vague and then fled."

A wise decision. Possibly the last wise decision Dean would ever make.

Sylvia shifted beneath the blanket, turning more fully toward him. "We have had sex before. I know what you look like normally. I only want to know whether I should expect something entirely different."

Thomas’s scent thickened despite every effort to contain it.

Her pupils widened slightly.

He noticed.

She noticed him noticing.

"This is not an educational conversation anymore," Thomas said.

"I am still learning."

"You are sitting on my lap."

Sylvia looked down.

At some point during the interrogation, she had indeed moved onto him.

"Oh."

Thomas placed both hands around her waist, holding her very still.

Draxil had attempted a political siege.

Sylvia had chosen emotional siege.

Thomas already knew which one would destroy him first.