The Price For Loving You

THE BEGINNING OF A BEAUTIFUL LIE

NICOLAS

The sky hung heavy with storm clouds, a perfect mirror of the grief settling over the cemetery. A cold drizzle coated the polished wood of the coffin, the only sound breaking the suffocating silence besides my mother’s quiet sobs. She clung to my father’s arm, her fingers trembling, her face pale.

The priest’s solemn words blurred together as I stared at the freshly dug grave before us.

Nathaniel Blackwood.

The perfect son. The pride of the Blackwood family.

I should’ve felt something more—some deep sorrow, a piercing grief—but we were never close. Nathaniel had always been the golden child, the kind of alpha my father admired. Strong. Disciplined. Everything an heir should be. And me? I was the unwanted one. An omega born into a legacy built by dominant alphas.

My father never made his disappointment a secret. But I had learned long ago that expecting his approval was a fool’s game.

A vibration in my pocket pulled me from my thoughts. I pulled out my phone, the screen glowing with a message.

LACHELLE: I heard about your brother. Wanna go out to cool off?

I hesitated, my gaze shifting to my mother.

ME: I have to stay with her.

Another gust of wind swept through the cemetery, scattering leaves over the fresh mound of earth. Nathaniel was gone. And life, no matter how cruel, would move on.

---

The next morning, I entered the dining room to find my father already seated, his posture as rigid as ever. He ate in silence, the air around him as cold as the marble floors beneath my feet.

"Good morning, Dad," I said carefully.

He barely acknowledged me, offering nothing more than a curt nod.

"Young Master, would you like your breakfast?" one of the maids asked.

I gave her a flat look—why else would I be here?—before sighing. "Where’s my mother?"

"Madam hasn’t come down," she replied. "She said she wasn’t hungry and has been in her room all morning."

A flicker of worry settled in my chest. I pushed my chair back, intending to check on her, but my father’s voice cut through the room.

"Sit down, Nicolas. We need to talk."

I froze. Those words never led to anything good. Still, I forced myself to sit, my shoulders stiff with unease.

He set down his fork, his expression unreadable. "Cabel is coming."

I frowned. "Who?"

"Your fiancé."

The word hit me like a slap. "Excuse me?"

"You’re getting married," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I stared at him, my mind scrambling to process the sheer absurdity of his words.

"Why the hell would I get married?" My voice rose with disbelief.

"Stop being selfish, Nicolas. You are an omega. You will prove useful to this family by producing an heir."

I felt the blood drain from my face.

Nathaniel was gone. And now, my father had decided my only worth was in securing a powerful alliance through marriage.

"You want to sell me off like I’m nothing more than a breeder?" I spat.

"You will do as you’re told." His tone was final, as if my life was his to dictate.

Anger surged through me, hot and bitter. "I already have someone I love." I met his gaze, defiant. "Lucas is the one I want."

"Lucas Callisto is irrelevant."

The words struck deeper than I expected.

I pushed back from the table, my chair scraping against the floor. "No. I won’t do this."

Without another word, I turned and walked out. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone.

ME: Meet me at Blue Hour. Now.

I needed an escape. And tonight, I would take it.

---

Blue Hour was a sanctuary for the rich, the reckless, and the ruined. The moment I stepped inside, the pulsing bass of the music thrummed through my veins. The scent of alcohol, sweat, and pheromones thickened the air.

Eyes followed me as I strode through the crowd. They always did. I had that kind of presence—ethereal beauty wrapped in sharp arrogance.

Sliding into the VIP section, I ordered drink after drink, drowning in the burn of expensive liquor. But no matter how much I consumed, the suffocating weight of my father’s words refused to fade.

Then something else hit me.

Heat.

It started as a slow burn in my stomach, then spread—too fast, too strong. My skin flushed, my breath came quicker.

No.

I fumbled for my phone, my fingers shaking.

ME: Lachelle, come fast. My heat—

LACHELLE: Stay away from any alpha. I’m coming!

My pulse pounded in my ears. The bathroom—I needed to get to the bathroom.

I stumbled inside, gripping the sink, splashing cold water on my face. It did nothing. My scent was thick, overpowering.

Then the door creaked open.

I froze.

A stranger stepped in, his presence commanding, his gaze piercing through me.

Silver-gray eyes locked onto mine.

Alpha.

A shiver ran down my spine as my body reacted on instinct, the omega in me screaming for release.

He turned to leave.

I grabbed his wrist.

And then, without thinking, I kissed him.

For a moment, he remained still. Then something shifted. His grip tightened, his body pressing against mine as he deepened the kiss.

"Don’t regret this," he murmured against my lips.

I already did.

His arms swept under me, lifting me effortlessly. The next thing I knew, he was carrying me into a private suite, the door clicking shut behind us.

He hovered above me, his breath warm against my skin.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his voice dark and heavy.

I trembled beneath him as his hands traced down my body, igniting something deep and primal. My mind blurred with heat, with alcohol, with reckless need.

Then he pulled off his shirt.

I barely had time to take in the intricate tattoos carved across his skin before he was undoing my clothes with equal urgency. His fingers explored me, sending fire through my veins.

"You're so tight," he groaned, pressing inside me. I gasped, gripping the sheets as he moved with slow, torturous precision.

"P-please," I whimpered.

"No begging, little prince," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear.

I moaned as he hit that spot inside me, pleasure surging through my body. His pace quickened, each thrust sending me closer to oblivion.

And then—just as I was about to break—his teeth sank into my scent gland.

A sharp pain lanced through me. Then an unbearable wave of pleasure followed, crashing over me in a dizzying rush. My scent fused with his, the bond locking into place.

My vision blurred. My body trembled.

The last thing I heard before darkness pulled me under was his voice—deep, rough, laced with something close to regret.

"What have I done?"