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  “Yeah, hi. Tiberius—”

  “Where are you?” Tiberius barked into the phone. “I’ll be so fucking late.”

  “I’m here, coming up—”

  “If you were here, I’d see you. Where are you, Reese?”

  “Getting into the elevator now.”

  “Hurry the fuck up.”

  Lips pressed into a line, anger making his hands shake, Reese put the phone away and made himself step inside the elevator and punch the third floor. Fuck him for treating him like this. Since that night when he’d asked that question Reese hadn’t even heard, Tiberius had been even more of an asshole than ever.

  Fuck the spoilt brat.

  Seething, hefting the bag in his hand, Reese stalked down the hallway to Tiberius’s door and knocked. If he choked on his anger, so be it. He had to pay his room at the end of the week, and he’d all but run out of money for food.

  He could do this.

  Just don’t punch the arrogant alpha, he told himself. Don’t, Reese.

  The door swung open, but it wasn’t Tiberius behind it. Marked by his white-blond hair and green eyes, the faint scar on his face and his huge physique, that was Nero, Tiberius’s good buddy.

  “About time,” he grunted, letting Reese enter. “What took you so long?”

  Don’t punch any alpha, Reese told himself now. Not even his asshole friends. Hand over the stuff and go.

  “Here.” He proffered the plastic bag. “Shirt and socks. Can I go now?”

  “Not yet. Got any painkillers?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Come inside.”

  “I... It’s late. I need to study.”

  Nero said nothing, entering the bedroom, and Reese found himself trailing after him. He’d never been inside Tiberius’s bedroom, and he was curious.

  It didn’t disappoint. Huge king size bed in dark wood, massive closet, a desk with a leather armchair, heavy drapes at the window. Just one thing was missing.

  “Where’s Tiberius?”

  “Good question. Ty?” Nero called out. “Where the hell are you?”

  A groan came from the bathroom.

  Reese tensed. “Is he sick?”

  Nero shrugged. “He has a headache.”

  That had to be a hell of a headache, Reese thought, entering the bathroom after Nero and seeing Tiberius’s white face.

  “Christ, man,” Nero muttered. “I thought you were feeling better.”

  “I’ll be fine. Help me dress.”

  “You know I can’t. I have to go. But Reese is here.”

  “No, Nero.”

  “Honestly, Ty, I can’t stay,” Nero said, “my father will string me up by the balls if I’m late. At least your father isn’t a monster. Look, I’ve tried calling Marcus but he’s vanished into thin air. Probably off fucking some asshole or other.”

  “Go on, then,” Tiberius rasped, splashing water on his face. “Told you, I’ll be fine. Reese, you go, too. I’ll dress on my own.”

  That was for the best, for many obvious reasons, and yet Reese hesitated as Nero grabbed his jacket from a chair and left the room, the door banging shut behind him.

  Why wasn’t he leaving? He really shouldn’t stay.

  Couldn’t.

  It would be a mistake, he just knew it, but for some reason, his feet wouldn’t budge from the bathroom door.

  “You’re still here,” Tiberius remarked after drying his face on a towel, shooting him a dark look.

  Reese nodded.

  “Why?” Tiberius whispered.

  “You need help dressing. I’ll help.” He tried for an explanation that made sense. “I’m your Boi. You pay me.”

  But of course that wasn’t the real reason, Reese reflected as he waited for Tiberius to speak. He wasn’t sure what the reason was. It had been a gut reaction, a split-second decision that had bypassed his rational brain.

  “Come, then,” Tiberius eventually said, gesturing toward the bedroom. “This way.”

  What was it then?

  Reese thought about that as Tiberius sank on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his tousled dark hair, then gestured at a pressed dark suit hanging on the closet door. He’d never helped anyone dress before. Didn’t even know what sort of help Tiberius needed.

  Maybe...

  Maybe it was that he’d never seen the alpha so vulnerable before, he realized. And the mystery of the why was bugging him.

  Then Tiberius started to undress and Reese’s brain screeched to a stop.

  Whoa.

  Forgetting what he was doing—unpacking the suit—he stared as Tiberius grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and whipped it over his head, baring his sculpted chest. Reese had seen it before, that night of the fateful question he’d answered without even hearing it first, but it was different tonight. Could be the accumulated lust, or the fact that they were alone, in a bedroom.

  Tiberius’s bedroom.

  Or that Reese had permission to touch, even if just to help Tiberius dress.

  He was still staring. Firm pecs, defined abs, biceps that bulged, black ink winding around his muscular arms and spilling over his shoulders to his pecs, forming a stylized wolf.

  He was magnificent.

  Then he started unbuttoning his jeans and Reese swallowed hard. The bulge between the alpha’s legs was huge. As he pushed the jeans down, Reese knew that Tiberius was hard, his big cock outlined perfectly in his black briefs, tenting them.

  He clenched inside in response. He wanted that huge cock inside him, impaling him, pushing deep... and he was soaking wet, the slick of his hole coating the inside of his thighs.

  Yeah, this was a really fucking bad idea, but now he couldn’t just run out, could he? It wouldn’t be right.

  Licking dry lips, he grabbed the suit, removed the plastic covering, and laid it out on the bed beside Tiberius.

  “Are you feeling okay?” he ventured, to keep his mind and eyes off the sexy male beside him. “Nero said you’re not sick, so what’s wrong?”

  “Just a tension headache. Makes me dizzy.”

  The quiet words stopped Reese in his tracks. He turned to face Tiberius and crouched down in front of him. “Then shouldn’t you stay in bed?”

  “I can’t.”

  Reese waited for more, but nothing seemed to be forthcoming. Also, now he could look right into the alpha’s face, into those dark eyes, the soft shapely mouth, the sharp cheekbones, the square jaw. His hair, though styled in a faux-hawk, looked soft, begging to be caressed.

  Reese almost jumped back to his feet, pulling his hands away before he allowed himself to touch. “Well, then, let’s get you dressed.”

  All business, ignoring the maddening throb between his legs, he shook out the black dress pants and crouched back down to help those long, muscular legs into them. The spicy musk of the alpha hit him, a kick in the nuts, twisting up the need inside him. Gritting his teeth, he managed the task, then got up unsteadily to unpack the new shirt and help Tiberius in it.

  He needed Reese’s help, he reminded himself. No matter what, Tiberius was dizzy and had to get ready to go, wherever it was he had to run off to.

  The bulge between Tiberius’s legs was impressive, drawing Reese’s gaze like a magnet. Were alphas hard all the time? Was it normal that Tiberius’s cock was so big and stiff right now? He knew too little about such matters.

  Tiberius lifted his arms, allowing Reese to put the shirt on him, and as he bent over him, Reese got another whiff of that mouthwatering scent. His sweat, he thought, his mind spinning. Pheromones. Alpha sex pheromones.

  No alpha had ever smelled so good to him before. Reese wanted to lick his chest, lick him all over, rub himself on Tiberius like a cat.

  Shit.

  Not good.

  Socks had to go on next, on strong, arched feet, and the black dress shoes resting by the bed. Reese did the laces, then looked up—right into the alpha’s heated gaze. It went through him like a white-hot blade, stopping his breath.

&
nbsp; “Reese...” the alpha whispered, a flush on his cheekbones. He was heart-stoppingly beautiful up close, the combination of that handsome face, the soft lips, the wide shoulders straining his white shirt... It was too much to bear.

  “You’re good to go,” Reese said, his voice shaking. He laid out the jacket on the bed, smoothed his hands over his own thighs, wiping away sweat. “All ready.”

  He was rambling and had to stop.

  He was leaving now. Really, he was.

  But his alpha stood up and it was a sight to take one’s breath away. Devastatingly handsome, that was Tiberius de Crescent. Dangerously beautiful. Darkly perfect as he towered over Reese and moved toward him.

  Big hands gripped Reese’s arms, hauling him against that tall, strong body. “Wait for me,” Tiberius rumbled. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. You can sleep here.”

  “What? I can’t.” The thought alone was enough to turn Reese’s knees weak.

  “Sleep in my bed. We need to talk.”

  Talk? That was the last thing on Reese’s mind right now. He was staring at Tiberius’s mouth. His lips moved but Reese couldn’t make out words. He needed to taste them, feel them...

  The hands released him, and Tiberius strode past him, and out of the room.

  The bang of the door closing brought Reese back to his senses.

  Holy shit, what was he going to do?

  Chapter Five: Tiberius

  Last thing Tiberius wanted was to meet the clan and face his old man, but in life, you rarely got what you wanted.

  Reese. That’s who he wanted. There was no escaping that. Just like there was no escaping his duty.

  His head pounded fit to burst. He walked like a drunk, staggering, as he entered the ancestral mansion to the sound of music and voices, the clink of glasses. The clan was there, heads turning as he stepped inside.

  Grabbing a glass from a tray, he raised it. Let them think what they wanted. A drunk alpha wasn’t uncommon, and if that explained his uneven gait, even better. An alpha never showed weakness, especially not the son of an old wolf from the venerated Crescent clan.

  Tiberius, shifters said from right and left as he advanced between them. Tiberius.

  Inclining his head in acknowledgment, he made his way to the back of the reception hall, glass in hand, his mind back in his Academy room and the pretty omega hopefully waiting there. Seeing him crouched between his legs had almost broken Tiberius’s precarious control. He’d almost grabbed Reese’s head and hauled him closer, almost kissed him, almost forced him to suck him.

  Fuck.

  Tiberius had never thought of himself as one of those adrenaline-pumped, chest-thumping alphas who took what and who they wanted just because they could. He thought of himself as just, and controlled, and disciplined.

  It only took Reese crouching there to show him how wrong he was. How little control he had over his own body and urges.

  “Tiberius,” a deep voice said, and he turned to face Severus of the Fang clan. Nero’s father, an old alpha, creepy as all hell. “Good to see you, young man. How’s the Academy?”

  “Fine. You know how it is. Studying and training takes up all my time.”

  “Of course.” Severus turned to take in the crowded hall, then nodded at Tiberius. “Your father told me you’re ready to choose a Mate. That’s a sensible move in this unstable world we live in. I’m urging my son to do the same.”

  “You are?” Tiberius took a swig from his glass. He needed it, after all.

  “Absolutely. Our world is hanging in a precarious balance. Not only are the witches threatening us from the outside, but other clans threaten our position of power. Our clans are old and venerated, but they need consolidation, alliances, and of course, heirs.”

  Of course.

  Because all the old wolves thought about was power.

  Not happiness.

  And where was this bitterness coming from? He’d always knew he’d marry the omega his father chose for him. Why fight him now?

  Silky black hair. Wide blue eyes. Slender shoulders. Skin like cream.

  Reese...

  “Tiberius.”

  “Hm?” He blinked up at the old wolf. “What?”

  “I said, have you met your Mate-to-be? He’s a great omega, from a good clan, a good house. You do know who your father chose for you, don’t you?”

  “I...” His father had already chosen? Why hadn’t Tiberius been informed, when the head of another clan knew already?

  That was it. Enough. He had to confront his old man, whether he wanted it or not.

  “Excuse me,” he said with all the politeness he could muster after this news, and with the headache pounding in his temples. “I have to speak to my alpha father.”

  As he strode through the crowd, he realized he didn’t see the head of the Eclipse Clan, Marcus’s father, anywhere. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Marcus all day, either.

  Huh. Strange. He had thought it weird that Nero had come to check on him earlier, but Nero was like that, coming and going randomly, keeping his own counsel and his reasons to himself.

  Though if his father was also pressing him to get married...

  Damn. Tiberius finished his wine in two gulps and slammed the glass on a table as he scanned the room, looking for old wolf Constantine.

  Dear old dad.

  He spotted him talking with the clans’ president, Ambrosius Greywolf, their heads bent together, probably discussing how to best use their offspring to take over the world.

  “Father!” he called out as he approached, plastering on a smile, wishing he had more booze for liquid courage. “Been looking for you.”

  “Tiberius,” his father said, expression neutral. If he was happy to see his alpha son, he showed no sign of it.

  “Was there anything you wanted to talk to me about?” Tiberius ground out.

  “Talk to you? I have given up waiting for you to choose an appropriate Mate. So I have taken things into my own hands.”

  “Father... what have you done? I thought we could discuss this. I need some more time.”

  The old wolf waved a dismissive hand. “At your age, I had already fathered you. We need this alliance and we need it now.”

  “Which alliance? That sounds damn specific.”

  “The alliance with me,” Ambrosius said, speaking for the first time. “With the oldest and most powerful clan.”

  Tiberius stared at him, speechless.

  “My son Fennix is attending the Lotus Academy,” Ambrosius went on. “He will make you a perfect Mate.”

  Lotus Academy was an omega prep academy. But... “I didn’t even know you had an omega son,” he blurted out.

  Ambrosius shrugged, clearly not interested in such a discussion. Ambrosius practically selling his omega son to the second strongest clan of the shifter lands in marriage shouldn’t have surprised Tiberius. It was how things were.

  Omegas were quintessential to life. Without them, there would be no procreation. Their clans, their future, would be forfeit. And yet they were always treated as the children of a lesser god. Parents often avoided mentioning them, locked them away, were frustrated and disappointed at having them.

  It made no sense to Tiberius.

  “I’m not ready yet to get married,” he said stonily.

  “Nobody is,” Ambrosius said. “You grow into it. You get used to it. It’s a matter of taking the plunge.”

  With an omega he’d never seen or heard about? “But...”

  “You can’t refuse,” his father said, a hard light in his eyes. “You’d offend the leader of our clans? You’d offend me? You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Really? You’ll force my hand because you arranged a marriage without even asking me?”

  “Asking you?” His father tsked. “You embarrass me. Your duty is to your clan and your family. Don’t forget your place.”

  “Was this... was it your plan, that I find you here with the clan you want us allied with and set me between a rock and a
hard place? How far do your plans go, old man?”

  “You dare,” his father hissed, baring his long, yellowed fangs. “You dare confront me in front of everyone, and our clans’ president? I won’t let this go unpunished.”

  Tiberius’s headache was blinding. Black was seeping into the edges of his vision. His skull thumped fit to burst. “You are serious.”

  “What is going on?” Ambrosius asked.

  “I have to go. No offense, Ambrosius,” Tiberius said and sidestepped a swipe of his father’s shifting hand, with its emerging claws. “But I can’t marry an omega I haven’t even met just because my father says so.”

  “You...” his father growled.

  “That is easily fixed,” Ambrosius said. “We can arrange a meeting with my son this week. I am sure you will find him suitable.”

  Suitable. Like he was looking to buy a piece of furniture, or a new car.

  “He agrees,” Tiberius’s father said, before Tiberius could open his mouth to reply. “You will agree to this marriage, Tiberius, or you are disowned, and that is final.”

  “You have to be kidding me...” Staring into his alpha father’s cold gaze, Tiberius suppressed a shiver, cce wrapping around his spine.

  His father had never threatened him with something so serious. Sure, he was a bastard and had no problem punching Tiberius in the face if he was having a bad day. Growing up he’d carried his fair share of bruises, and he’d been happy to take them so his brother wouldn’t have to. Had learned to protect himself. It had made him stronger.

  Turning his back on his father, he walked out. Let the old wolf made of it what he willed.

  But damn, it hurt. After their omega father had died, both he and Emanuel had sought comfort and affection in their father, but it wasn’t meant to be. Their father was as warm a person as a winter’s day. A cruel, calculating son of a bitch. Both he and Emanuel knew it.

  And yet every time he stabbed them with his words and actions, they both bled. Wasn’t it ironic?

  ***

  He hailed a cab and slid into the backseat, bending over and holding on to his achy head.

  Damn... He felt like shit. He often had tension headaches when he had to meet his father, but never this bad. All he wanted was to locate some painkillers, swallow a fistful of them and go to bed with the drapes closed. Dark and quiet and away from the responsibilities his alpha father kept heaping on his shoulders.