Unnatural (The Wrong Alpha 1)

Haydn was the first to avert his gaze, to Royce’s satisfaction.

“Fine,” Haydn said, his voice sharper than it had been in a long time.

Royce didn’t like it. He liked it when Haydn was laughing or smiling. When Haydn was in a bad mood, his alpha scent became much more pronounced, which only served to aggravate Royce more.

As Haydn started to turn away, Royce grabbed his arm. “Haydn.”

Haydn looked back at him.

Royce opened his mouth and then closed it. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. He wasn’t going to apologize for stating the truth. Haydn’s schedule was a lot more flexible than his. He was the general of an army in a time of peace. Royce was an active senator and the leader of the Liberal party of the Kadarian Senate.

Whatever Haydn saw on his face, it was enough to soften his expression a little. “I don’t want to part on bad terms, either,” Haydn said. A tentative smile formed on his lips. “I think we’ve become pretty good friends, yeah?”

Friends. The word didn’t feel quite right. He did like Haydn. He was likable. He was warm, patient, and good-natured. He was easy to talk to, easy to like, easy to trust—Royce hadn’t expected to like him so much—but his presence always put him on edge. He could never relax around him.

“Yes,” Royce said. “Of course we’re friends.”

Haydn grinned, which made his scent become much more tolerable. “Goodbye, then,” he said, pulling Royce into a one-armed hug. “Don’t be a stranger. Call me.”

When he started pulling away, Royce didn’t let him. Keeping him still, he shoved his face against Haydn’s throat.

Haydn laughed. “Oh, come on.” But he wasn’t pushing Royce away, allowing him to thoroughly scent-mark him.

When Royce’s instincts were finally satisfied, he stepped back and said stiffly, “Goodbye. Have a safe flight.”

Haydn just nodded with a smile and strode away, smelling of Royce.

Royce watched the jet take off and disappear in the direction of Pelugia.

He sighed, feeling his body relax for what seemed like the first time in a month. As much as he liked Haydn, Royce was glad to finally have some much-needed distance from him. He hated the effect Haydn had on him: the primitive, territorial animal that he turned into around the other alpha. Away from Haydn’s aggravating scent and blue eyes, Royce’s head felt clearer. He felt calmer in general. More like himself. He no longer felt like he needed to fucking piss all over his house—and the strange alpha inside it.

Hopefully the distance would settle his instincts, and when Haydn returned, they could be normal friends without Royce needing to scent-mark him every hour.

One could only hope.

Chapter Seven

Royce found that it was much easier to be friends with Haydn when he couldn’t smell his aggravating scent. They video-called each other every evening and spoke for a few hours before Haydn needed to go to bed—his time zone was three hours ahead of Royce’s.

Haydn mostly joked and bitched about his father, but his sense of humor seemed to be darkening with every day. Although his complaints weren’t serious, Royce could read between the lines and see that King Stefan was really getting on Haydn’s nerves.

“He wants you to stay in Pelugia, doesn’t he?” Royce said, looking up from his computer. He’d taken to working during their video calls, knowing that Haydn just needed a sympathetic ear to vent to.

“Yeah,” Haydn said. “He’s being very unreasonable about it. I told him I needed to be back in Citra before Lord Ksar’s arrival, but he doesn’t care. If I didn’t know better, I would think he wants the war to resume.”

Royce peered at him. “Are you sure he doesn’t?”

Haydn didn’t answer immediately.

“No, I’m not,” he said at last, making a face. “And he isn’t alone in this. I’m starting to see that a lot of people here would like for the war to continue.” He sighed, his eyes suddenly looking years older than his thirty years. “The thing is, after decades of war, our entire economy is built around it. If there is no war, most of the army will be disbanded, and then all those people will be back home, jobless and poor. Creating enough jobs for the veterans is our biggest problem. Converting factories’ wartime manufacturing to peacetime production is a major headache, too, especially considering that many don’t believe the peace will last.”

Royce nodded. “Kadar is facing similar problems,” he said, eyeing Haydn carefully. “You seem off. Tense.”

Haydn gave a harsh chuckle. “I hoped you wouldn’t notice. I’m entering my rut. I guess it’s really lucky I’m not in Kadar right now.”

Royce frowned and got to his feet. Stepping to the window, he checked the moons. No, his memory hadn’t failed him. “You’re in rut? But none of the moons are full.”

“My ruts have never followed any moon cycle,” Haydn said. “I know it’s weird, but our family doctor says I’m just a bit of a genetic freak.”