Unnatural (The Wrong Alpha 1)

Enough, he told himself, running a hand over his face. He spent too much time thinking about Haydn and being frustrated about him. He was obsessing. Enough, dammit.

***

The dinner was a rousing success. They were papped together, and Royce even managed not to get too aggravated by Haydn’s scent. The one time he got somewhat snappish, Haydn simply looked him in the eye across the table and bared his throat a little. That appeased Royce’s instincts well enough. He obviously couldn’t scent-mark him when they were in public—betas rarely scent-marked anything, so that would just look odd—but the mere sign of submission soothed Royce’s raw nerves.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Royce said as they left the restaurant. He opened the door of the helicopter for Haydn and followed him inside, ignoring the flashes of cameras.

“Do what?” Haydn said, stretching in the seat.

Royce eyed him sourly. He did look exceptionally “pretty” tonight, his smoky gray suit making his laughing blue eyes pop. Everyone at the restaurant had stared at him.

“Make yourself submit,” Royce said as the helicopter took off. He kept his voice quiet, mindful of their pilot despite the partition separating them from him. This new model of helicopter produced very little noise. It was really more of an aircar like those used on the Inner Core planets, and nearly as quiet.

Haydn cocked his head to the side, his long, muscular body stretching slightly as he yawned. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding a little thoughtful. A little surprised. “I guess I’m just used to living under another alpha’s roof and curbing my own instincts in order not to rub him the wrong way.” He scrunched up his nose in a funny way. “Though my father definitely never needed to scent-mark me.” He looked at Royce. “Why are you getting worked up again?”

Realizing that the air was full of his pheromones, Royce flushed. “I’m not sure,” he said stiffly. He could hardly tell Haydn that he… didn’t fucking like the thought of Haydn submitting to any alpha but him. It sounded bizarre even in his own head. It was none of his business what Haydn did in another alpha’s house.

Haydn sighed and bared his throat. “All right, c’mere.”

Royce didn’t need to be told twice. He shoved his face against Haydn’s scent gland and rubbed his nose into it, needing to put his scent on him.

“I used to have a shocat when I was a child,” Haydn murmured. “You’re just like him.”

“I can stop if this is making you uncomfortable,” Royce said, his eyes closed as he replaced Haydn’s aggravating scent with his own.

“No, it’s okay,” Haydn said. “Just a little weird. My head feels funny when you pump out so much pheromones.”

Having gotten permission not to move, Royce spent the rest of the flight with his face buried in Haydn’s neck. Haydn didn’t seem to mind, talking about some Pelugian issues his father had him solving from a distance. Royce listened with half an ear, knowing that Haydn didn’t mind his inattention. He just needed to vent a little.

By the time they arrived at Cleghorn, Royce was completely calm. He pulled away and helped Haydn get out of the helicopter.

Laying a hand on Haydn’s shoulder, he steered him inside the house, toward his bedroom.

“I know where my room is, Royce,” Haydn said, sounding amused.

Royce dropped his hand. “Sorry,” he said, frowning, baffled by his own behavior.

Haydn chuckled, laying a hand on the door handle and turning his head to smile at Royce. “Good night, honey.”

Royce’s lips twitched. “Good night.”

Haydn entered his bedroom and shut the door.

Royce was left staring at it, his body crawling with a strange kind of agitation. He stared at the spot Haydn had just been in and shook his head to himself, feeling oddly off-balance. The corridor seemed a lot quieter and darker all of a sudden. It was inexplicable.

He turned and headed to his own room.

Chapter Six

Haydn left four days later.

Royce walked him to his private jet.

“I should be back soon enough,” Haydn said. “No later than in ten days. I think. Disbanding the army isn’t exactly something we’ve ever done, so it’s hard to say for sure.” He grimaced a little. “Unless my father comes up with another reason I need to absolutely be in Pelugia for.”

Royce’s lips thinned. “You need to return before Lord Ksar comes back to check how the peace is holding. I suspect he won’t bother warning us about his visit beforehand.”

“It’s still about a month away,” Haydn said, shrugging. “I’m sure I’ll be back by then. Or you can come to Pelugia?”

Royce shook his head. “I can’t leave my work in the Senate. Your duties are a lot more flexible than mine.”

Haydn’s scent spiked with his annoyance, and Royce felt his own scent spike in response, too.

They stared each other down.