If Caleb called, his father wouldn’t scream and yell, and he’d likely leave Xan alone for at least a few days. Caleb, like so many omegas, knew just how to speak to an alpha to reduce the threat of aggression, and Xan was grateful for that.
How many family dinners had been salvaged by Caleb’s smooth interference when Father began his usual vicious picking on Xan? It was hard being the family’s only alpha offspring, with all the hopes of the future pinned on him, especially when he was so very, deeply flawed, and everyone suspected the truth, even if they didn’t quite know it for sure.
“I can make it on my own,” Xan said, bending to pick up his robe and hissing in pain as he did.
“Let me help” Caleb slipped the soft robe over Xan’s shoulders.
The cold breeze from the windows prickled his skin, and he was wracked with a painful shudder. In his own room, the beta servants would have stoked his fire for the night, and he’d be able to snuggle into bed toasty and warm. It was only Caleb who preferred to sleep in an ice-cold room.
Caleb’s pale skin glowed in the moonlight, perfect and unblemished. His hairless chest and abdomen was revealed by the V of his white silk robe, and Xan wished, as always, that he felt moved at all by the sight. It was, by all rights, a beautiful one. Caleb was the epitome of an omega—delicate and sweet, handsome and fit, with sensual quirks, like sleepy eyes and a pouty mouth.
Most alphas ached to defend and possess him. He’d been coveted for many years at the Philia Committee soirées for unmatched omegas, but he’d refused to entertain anyone’s offer until Xan had come along. And even then he’d rejected Xan until he’d finally understood their needs were perfectly matched…
At least most of the time.
Xan took the tub of liniment Caleb had been using on him and kissed him gently on the cheek. Caleb walked him to the door of his room and, just before Xan left, took him into a gentle hug. “Sleep well, alpha mine,” he murmured.
Xan’s throat tightened and he bit out, “And you, my omega.”
The hallway was long and his room was on the opposite end of it. The house was, aside for a few rooms Caleb had claimed as his own, decorated to Xan’s ornate taste. And the hallway was no exception. Mirrors lined the walls, giving his usually vain appetite a constant view of himself. But tonight he kept his eyes on the soft, red carpet that rolled out down the wooden floor. He didn’t need to see himself all black and blue and red. The consequences of indulging in his dark addiction were never something Xan reveled in.
He passed the wide stairwell down to the first floor and continued past the closed doors of other bedrooms, unclaimed, and, as of now, mostly undecorated, save for two rooms designated for guests.
The house itself was larger than they needed, but Xan still had some futile hope of filling the many rooms between his and Caleb’s with children—somehow, some way. If he could solve his problem with performance during heat…and if his sperm would behave and knock up Caleb sooner rather than later, he’d like to begin with that dream immediately.
It was his duty, after all, to carry on the Heelies name and to provide a family for Caleb to love. Caleb desperately wanted to be a pater and Xan had promised him he would be.
Wolf-god, he’d promised Caleb so many things.
Xan sighed, opening the door to his warm room before closing it carefully behind him. The wide bed stood between four wooden posters and beneath a red canopy. The fire burned in the grate, just as he’d known it would, and the sheets had been turned back welcomingly.
He slipped off his robe and pajama pants and threw them over the velvet chair in the corner. He dug his toes into the long, pearl gray shag of the rug he’d purchased in Rapersten during a business trip a year ago. He’d been only the figurehead, of course, there to smile, shake hands, and sign the contracts his brother Ray had negotiated with the rug dealers there. But he’d selected this rug himself from the piles and piles in the warehouse he’d visited.
Carefully, he lowered himself to his bed and stared up at the flat, red expanse of cloth over him. His thoughts raced hard against the lingering pain, like wild horses storming through his mind. He’d brought all of this on himself, he knew that, and didn’t deserve forgiveness for it. But what had he done to deserve this craving? Was he born evil? Had he done something so horrible in a past life that wolf-god saw fit to punish him even now in this one?
A little over a year ago, he’d been hopeful that his abnormal lusts were something he could put behind him. He’d contracted with Caleb and they’d agreed to live a celibate life, except when heats came on. This fit Caleb’s needs perfectly and his own better than any other omega match could have done.
He’d thought their partnership was going to be his salvation. They’d make the family his father and pater required, and he’d continue as the figurehead while his brilliant beta brother ran the family business. He’d find peace with what he was allowed.
Xan had been entirely confident the plan would work. He’d learned in school that during heat, an omega’s pheromones drove an alpha to instinctive arousal and lust. He’d been sure there could be no problem on his end when exposed to the scents of Caleb in heat. He was an alpha after all. He’d been so certain that he’d outright promised Caleb that he’d never suffer even a moment of pain when the time came.
Oh, how hilariously presumptuous that all seemed now.
It was right that his body was hurt so badly that the helpless, hateful laugh these thoughts brought up left him gasping in pain with hot tears burning his eyes. The only thing that’d gone right in that pitiful plan was choosing Caleb, who was more understanding than Xan had any right to expect.
Xan didn’t plan to ever forgive himself for all the ways his plan had fallen apart. Caleb, though, was always ready to forgive and forget, to move ahead and forge a new strategy together, tugging Xan along with him when he balked from shame. Caleb had gone all in with him, ready to ride the storms of their life until the bitter end. He was a ridiculously good man, and Xan didn’t deserve him. Not even a little.
Of course, Caleb didn’t agree with him. Instead, Caleb called himself equally flawed, and always said they were a perfect match. Even after a night like this.
An owl screeched outside his window, piercing his veil of wretched self-pity. He reached for the tub of liniment and discarded his underwear. Leaning back on the bed, he spread his sore legs wide and reached down to test his swollen, bleeding entrance.
He was always too ashamed to let Caleb tend to this wound.
With tears standing in his eyes, he scooped out two fingerfuls of liniment and pressed them into himself, whimpering as the pain flared. Then, fingers still inside, he rolled onto his side, sobs wracking his body. The arnica soothed even as his fingers opened up the wounds.
He loathed that he was incapable of turning his back on the darkness for long. Why couldn’t he just stay away and stay celibate, like Caleb? When they’d made their solemn contract together, he hadn’t thought it would be so hard, or that he could possibly be so very depraved.
In the dry heat of his bedroom, curled up in his soft bed, his asshole throbbing with his heartbeat, Xan cried himself to sleep.
