CHAPTER 3: The Omega Demand
1371 Words
CHAPTER 3: The Omega Demand
The word run still burned in Aira’s ears like a brand.
She hadn’t.
Of course she hadn’t.
Omegas didn’t run. Not unless they wanted their throats torn out.
And yet, as she stood in the dimly lit corridor outside the Lycan King’s borrowed chambers, her fingers trembled against the woven laundry basket clutched to her chest. The scent of cedar and something darker—something wild—seeped through the cracks of the door, making her wolf whimper low in her chest.
“He knows,” her wolf murmured. “He knows what we are to him.”
Aira swallowed hard.
What they might be to him.
Maybe.
If the bond was real.
If it wasn’t just another cruel trick of fate.
Behind her, Lira’s voice cut through the silence like a knife.
“You’re slow, discard. The king’s chambers won’t prepare themselves.”
Aira didn’t turn. “Then maybe you should do it.”
A sharp inhale. Then—
Smack.
Lira’s palm cracked against the back of Aira’s head, sending her stumbling forward. The basket tumbled from her grip, spilling fresh linens across the stone floor.
“Pick them up,” Lira hissed. “And remember your place.”
Aira’s fingers curled into fists.
Her place.
Right.
The place Jarek had carved out for her with his claws and his cruelty. The place the pack had always forced her into—kneeling, silent, lesser.
But as she gathered the fallen linens, her gaze flickered to the door.
To his door.
The Lycan King was in there.
And for some reason, that thought made her pulse stutter.
---
The room was too warm.
That was the first thing Aira noticed as she stepped inside, her arms laden with fresh furs and scented oils. A fire roared in the hearth, casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and something richer—something that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
Him.
She forced herself to breathe.
The chambers were larger than any omega den, grand even by alpha standards. A massive bed dominated the center, its posts carved from blackwood, its sheets already turned down. A desk sat near the window, piled with scrolls and maps. And there, in the corner—
Aira’s breath caught.
A weapon.
Not just any weapon.
A Lycan blade.
Curved, wicked, its edge gleaming even in the dim light.
She shouldn’t touch it.
She definitely shouldn’t touch it.
But her fingers itched.
“Admiring the steel, little omega?”
Aira jumped, nearly dropping the linens.
The voice came from behind her—deep, rough, amused.
She turned slowly.
And there he was.
Xavier, the Lycan King, leaned against the doorframe, his massive arms crossed over his chest. He’d shed his outer layers, leaving only a thin, dark shirt that clung to the hard planes of his torso. His sleeves were rolled to the elbows, revealing corded muscle and the faint silver scars that marked his skin.
And his eyes—
Those gold, predator’s eyes—
They watched her with a lazy sort of intensity, like a wolf considering whether to pounce.
Aira’s throat went dry.
“I—” She swallowed. “I was just preparing your chambers, my king.”
His lips twitched. “Were you?”
Aira nodded, her grip tightening on the linens.
Xavier pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer.
Every instinct in her body screamed to back away.
She didn’t.
Couldn’t.
Because omegas didn’t retreat from alphas.
And they certainly didn’t retreat from kings.
He stopped just inches from her, his height forcing her to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. Up close, he was even more terrifying. More beautiful. His jaw was sharp enough to cut, his nose slightly crooked—as if it had been broken once and never set right. A faint scar cut through one eyebrow, and his lips—
Goddess.
His lips were sinful.
“Tell me,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Do you always stare at weapons instead of doing your duties?”
Aira’s cheeks burned. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Liar.”
Her pulse spiked.
He smiled—a slow, wicked thing that made her stomach flip.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he reached past her and picked up the blade. His fingers brushed hers as he did, sending a jolt of heat up her arm.
Aira flinched.
Xavier’s smile faded.
For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence.
Then—
“You’re afraid of me.”
It wasn’t a question.
Aira lifted her chin. “Shouldn’t I be?”
His gaze darkened. “Yes.”
And then, before she could react, he was moving—crowding her back against the edge of the bed, his free hand coming to rest on the post beside her head.
Aira’s breath hitched.
He was everywhere. His scent, his heat, the sheer size of him—it swallowed her whole.
“But not for the reasons you think,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek.
Aira’s heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it.
“Why, then?” she whispered.
Xavier leaned in.
And then—
A knock at the door.
Aira jumped.
Xavier didn’t.
He just sighed, his gaze flickering toward the sound.
“Enter.”
The door creaked open.
Jarek stood there, his expression unreadable.
“My king,” he said, his voice tight. “The elders request your presence.”
Xavier didn’t move.
For a long moment, he just looked at Aira, his golden eyes burning into hers.
Then, finally, he stepped back.
“Duty calls,” he murmured.
Aira exhaled shakily.
Xavier turned to leave—then paused.
“Oh,” he said, as if just remembering something. “One more thing.”
He glanced at Jarek.
“I require an omega.”
Jarek’s jaw tightened. “Of course. Any in particular?”
Xavier’s lips curved.
“Her.”
Aira’s blood turned to ice.
Because he wasn’t pointing.
Wasn’t gesturing.
He was just looking at her.
And they all knew exactly who he meant.
--
The elders’ hall was silent.
Aira knelt at the edge of the room, her head bowed, her hands clenched in her lap. Around her, the pack’s omegas sat in neat rows, their scents tinged with fear and—for some—hope.
Being chosen by the Lycan King was an honor.
A death sentence.
Both.
At the front of the room, Xavier lounged in a high-backed chair, his long legs stretched out before him, his fingers steepled under his chin. He looked bored.
Jarek stood beside him, his posture rigid.
“As you requested,” Jarek said through gritted teeth. “Our omegas.”
Xavier’s gaze swept over them—lingering just a second too long on Aira.
Then he sighed.
“I only need one.”
Aira’s stomach twisted.
“Choose, then,” Jarek said.
Xavier tilted his head. “I already have.”
Aira’s breath caught.
No.
No, no, no—
But the king wasn’t looking at her.
Not yet.
Instead, he pushed to his feet and began to walk—slow, deliberate—down the line of omegas.
He paused by Jane, one of the omegas.
Jane preened, her golden hair shining in the torchlight.
Xavier studied her for a moment.
Then kept walking.
Jane’s face fell.
Aira’s pulse pounded in her ears as he drew closer.
Closer.
Closer.
Then—
He stopped.
Right in front of her.
Aira didn’t look up.
Couldn’t.
Xavier crouched, bringing himself to her level. His fingers brushed under her chin, tilting her face up until their eyes met.
“You,” he said softly.
Aira’s heart stopped.
Jarek growled.
Xavier ignored him.
“What’s your name, little omega?”
Aira swallowed. “Aira.”
“Aira,” he repeated, as if tasting the word. Then he smiled. “Pretty.”
Her cheeks burned.
Xavier stood, turning to Jarek.
“I’ll take her.”
Jarek’s claws unsheathed. “She’s rejected.”
Xavier’s smile turned sharp. “Then you won’t miss her.”
And just like that—
Aira was his.
- Writer
