“I’m sorry, Mother,” he said, forcing himself to sound gentler. “I’m just really tired, and I need to speak to Haydn.”
Instead of looking pacified, his mother seemed more irritated now. “Haydn,” she said. “I have nothing against Haydn, but do you realize how much time you spend with him when you’re home? We barely see you!”
“He’s my husband,” Royce said, his annoyance mounting. “Of course I spend a lot of time with him.”
His mother’s lips pursed. “But it isn’t a real marriage.”
Royce’s eyes narrowed. This time, he allowed his scent to thicken and fill the air between them on purpose. “I assure you my marriage is very real. I meant what I told Aksel: Haydn is my husband, and I expect you to treat him like you treat me.”
Bewilderment flashed across her face. “But… but you’re not mates, Royce.”
Something hot and angry filled his chest. His hand clenched. “Just because he’s an alpha and doesn’t have the necessary hormones for the mating mark to take, it doesn’t make him any less mine. Make no mistake, Mother: he’s mine. And I will not allow any of you to treat him like an outsider. Is that clear?”
She stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly.
Royce strode away, his nerves still frayed from the encounter. Part of him was surprised and disturbed by the force of his reaction, but mostly he was just angry.
You’re not mates, Royce.
Something about those words rubbed him the wrong way, made him feel like seeking Haydn out and putting his mark, his brand, all over him.
Haydn was his. Except he wasn’t, and that was the issue, wasn’t it? As long as Haydn didn’t wear his bite on him permanently, the alpha in him would never be satisfied, no matter how impossible it was for the bite to take. Haydn was an alpha. Royce’s bite would never take; he knew it rationally. But knowing something rationally wasn’t the same as feeling it. He wanted to mark Haydn up. He wanted Haydn to smell like his.
Because he was his, dammit.
Royce took a deep breath and let it out as he stopped in front of Haydn’s door. Calm. He could be calm. He wasn’t a goddamn animal that needed to piss all over his husband to feel better about himself. But in the last few days, controlling that part of him had been a real struggle. Every night, he lay in bed, itching to go to Haydn’s room and assert his conjugal rights. After the incident in the closet, he was reasonably sure Haydn wouldn’t turn him away.
The problem was, how were two alphas supposed to have sex? Even if Haydn wanted him, too, he was an alpha. He wouldn’t want to get fucked. Haydn would want to fuck him. And although Royce considered himself an open-minded person, he couldn’t fight his alpha instincts on this. He couldn’t force himself to play a submissive role in bed. His every instinct rebelled at the mere thought, nausea churning in his gut. He couldn’t break his own nature. But if he couldn’t do it, it wouldn’t be fair to ask that of Haydn, either, no matter how badly Royce wanted him, no matter how badly he itched to put his cock into him, stretch him on his knot, and fill him up with his come.
Fuck, even thinking about it worked him up, and Royce had to take a few calming breaths before he knocked on the door.
It took Haydn a while to open it, and when he did, it was immediately obvious why. There was a suitcase on the floor, nearly full.
Royce’s heart started beating faster.
He looked at Haydn and then back at the suitcase. “Tell me it isn’t what it looks like.”
Haydn crossed his arms over his chest, his blue eyes dropping for a moment before lifting to Royce’s face. “I’m sorry, but my father ordered me to come home.”
A harsh laugh left Royce’s throat. “And you said yes? What happened to your determination to live your own life?”
Haydn averted his gaze, his jaw working. “It isn’t fair. You don’t know my father. If you did, you’d know that it’s impossible to say no to him.”
Royce stared at his profile. “I didn’t take you for a coward.”
Haydn flinched. He glared at Royce, his scent thickening with anger. “Fuck you. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Maybe I don’t,” Royce said, trying to ignore the voice growling at the back of his mind, You aren’t allowed to leave me. You belong to me—by my side, in my bed, under me. You’re mine. I’ll lock you up here if I have to.
He pushed away those creepy thoughts, disturbed by their intensity. He’d never felt like this, not even with omegas he’d dated for a long time. Modern alphas weren’t supposed to feel like this. As a member of the Liberal party, Royce had been fighting misogyny, chauvinism, and outdated alpha views for over a decade. Now his own thoughts creeped him out. He was supposed to be better than that. Supposed to.