Enslaved To The Alphas

"Please... No." She whispered, but he seemed to pay her no mind.

Instead, he leaned in close, slow and deliberate, his breath warm against her skin. She felt it brush the place where her neck met her shoulder, and her entire body tensed in response. Emira froze, instinctively angling her head away, trying to escape him but there was nowhere to go. 

She knew what he was doing.. Scenting her. His inhale was deep, quiet but drawn-out, as if he was savoring her like something rare. She felt it not just on the surface of her skin, but inside her bones—his presence pressing into her from the inside out. His nose hovered over that vulnerable stretch of flesh, and every second felt like an intrusion. It was too close. Too much. His breath skimmed along her collarbone, and she could feel the way her stomach clenched tight with something she didn't want to name.

No one had ever been this close to her.

And now, she understood what the other Omegas whispered about. How an Alpha's scent clouded everything. How it erased sense and replaced it with heat and need. She had always thought they were weak. That they used those stories to excuse themselves.

But now... now she understood.

A cruel betrayal by her own body. Her knees weakened slightly, and heat bloomed low in her belly, making her want to cry. It wasn't want, she knew.. It was instinct. Biology. That terrible omega trait that responded to dominance with softness, with yielding. And for the first time in her life, she hated being an Omega. Hated this...

She clenched her jaw, trying to steady herself, to bury it. She would try her best to fight it.

But he laughed knowingly before stepping away... She breathed a sigh of relief... At least he was not too close to her....

In the next minute though, his hand came up, sliding into her hair and then his grip tightened and he pulled back. Her breath hitched. Was she really going to lose the last of herself tonight?

Her breath hitched and her heart screamed inside her chest. Emira wanted to move and run away again. But she couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

Zen leaned in again, this time lower, and she felt his lips ghost over her neck. Not quite kissing. Not quite touching. Just there hovering. She tried to move her head away but couldn't... Then his teeth grazed her skin as if letting her know he could bite her if he wanted.

She squeezed her eyes shut, when she heard his voice. " I really wish you would run," he murmured, voice thick with something dangerous. Amused. Dark. The heat of it slid down her neck and soaked into her chest.

"Little fire...You're so close to being a woman. It makes my teeth ache with the need to claim that. Your omega scene is so alluring... and..."

She tightened her fingers on the coat around her, as if holding it close would stop her scent from escaping. 

She could feel her body trembling, not just from terror now, but from the unbearable shame of it all. Of the flush in her cheeks. Of the wet heat gathering low in her body. Of the way her body betrayed her even as her mind screamed no.

And then, just as suddenly, he let her go. His hand slipped from her hair. His breath vanished from her skin. 

She stumbled slightly, unbalanced from the abrupt absence of tension, but caught herself before she fell.

He moved away and she sent him a worried glance. What was he going to do now?

Without a glance back, Prince Zen walked to a nearby bench, picked up a folded bathrobe, and turned. His expression unreadable.

Then, with no ceremony, he threw it at her.

She caught it clumsily, her arms fumbling under the coat she still clutched desperately around her body. She just looked at him. What did he want her to do?

"Wear that," he said. "And follow me into the bathroom."