“Ah.” He doesn’t let go of me, but his grip softens. “You’re a healer.”

“I am. And Lennart is, too. He vowed to do no harm, just like me.”

Gabriel takes a step back. Begrudgingly, maybe. “He is considerably less skilled than you, I’m told.”

“Yeah, well…” I despise false modesty. “Maybe he’ll get there.”

We fall into a still sort of silence, regarding each other, the dramatic difference in our heights doubled by the fact that I’m sitting on the bed and he isn’t. I should be quaking in fear. Rationally, I am worried. But there’s something about this—this Alpha, this situation, this room, the thick scent that envelops me—that doesn’t quite send my systems into panic.

I know I should be scared, but I don’t feel it.

That must be why I hear myself asking, “Would you like me to get naked?”

He stares, quiet. Unblinking. Much like his lynx.

“I ask because this dress was very expensive, and I have lofty plans of selling it to replace some of the healers’ equipment. I’d rather you not tear it. I’m happy to disrobe for you. If I’d known that this situation would arise, I would have insisted on something less delicate.” I shrug. “In my defense, this is very out of character for you.”

His lips twitch. “And what do you know of my character?”

“A bit. You hate Lord Larsen, and probably the other noble houses, too—and who can blame you? You usually procure your bed partners in less official ways. You don’t appear to be sexually interested in me, not in the slightest, which tells me that all this is to provoke. In my opinion, it will work. Oh, and despite having become general, you still enjoy sleeping on the floor.” His eyes narrow, and I glance at the pallet next to the bed. Just a handful of blankets laid out on the hard ground. “It doesn’t take outstanding observational skills to tell that you prefer a rougher surface.”

“You have them, though.”

“What?”

“Outstanding observational skills.”

“Oh. Well, healing and paying attention do go hand in hand.” I lean back a little, palms flat against the mattress. “So, should I take off the dress?”

His smile spreads across his handsome face. I guess he is intimidating, but maybe I’m in shock. That, or there must be something else wrong with me, because my fight-or-flight reflex has yet to kick in. “You are very forward,” he muses.

“For an Omega?”

“For anyone.” He’s not displeased, I don’t think. “Surprised that a dyed-in-the-wool conservative like Lord Larsen hasn’t trained the impertinence out of you.”

“I wouldn’t call asking simple, straightforward questions impertinence,” I say. But then I add, reluctantly, “Lady Larsen and Lennart have been keeping me out of his sight. For a while, I think they even managed to convince him that I’d never formed a single opinion.” I shrug, still unsure about whether I should be getting the nakedness thing going.

Maybe the reason is that I’ve never been a procrastinator. Simply put, I’d rather be fucked now and get it over with, than spend hours biting my nails.

“You know,” I muse, studying the general, “you’re not too dissimilar.”

“Who?”

“You and Lord Larsen. Maybe that’s why you don’t get along.”

He snorts. “The reason we don’t get along is that he’s a sociopath who would drive this stronghold and all who live in it into the ground, if allowed.”

“He thinks the same of you.” His deep scowl nearly makes me chuckle. “Oh, I’m not saying he’s right. But I’ve been in the room while you were being discussed. Several times. The nobles, they don’t understand⁠—”

“There is nothing for them to understand,” he drawls. “They just need to do as they’re fucking told.”

This time, I do laugh. “Do you really think they’ll bow to you, sir? They’re members of the Great House Larsen. The only way this will end is if one of you steps back—or in bloodshed. Bloodshed, I would like to add, that will befall not just the two of you but thousands of innocent bystanders.”

He doesn’t appear to be affected by my words—except for the muscle twitching in his jaw. When he moves, I expect him to finally come for his prize—me. All he does, however, is pull one of the chairs by the bed closer and sit across from me, elbows on his knees as he leans forward. He unlatches his cloak, letting it pool behind his back.

His eyes never once let go of mine.

“How lucky I am,” he says at last, a sarcastic tinge to his tone. “I expected a mediocre fuck and received some fine sociopolitical analysis from a cold Omega who knows very little about the true nature of the events that led us to where we are today.”

A burst of annoyance pops inside me; I tilt my head with acerbic sweetness. “Aw, ‘mediocre’? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“I plan to be hard on you.”

“That’s what I heard, and yet…”

Could that be the issue? The reason I’m not bruised and bleeding, pleading for my life in a corner of the room? Maybe General Agard wanted to take me by force to punish the Larsens, but I’m not attractive enough for him to make that happen.

But I don’t believe so. I think that he might like this. Talking. Being challenged. The pushback. It’s there, in the tug at the corner of his lips, the fine lines webbing his eyes. “Has Lennart taken you already?” he asks.

“You know how the noble-born are. It’s forbidden to take an Omega ahead of their⁠—”

“Mating, yes. Has he taken you?”

I don’t say, but the general knows the answer.

“He hasn’t, huh? Is that because you’re cold? Likely not pliant enough to take a knot? No children, probably.” A cruel twist in his eyes. “Are you no fun, Sofia?”

The jab hurts, but I smile through gritted teeth. “Apparently. Now that I have failed all the Alphas in my life, what shall I do with myself?”

“What will you do with yourself? After I return you, used, soiled, what do you think House Larsen will do? What do you think your beloved Lennart will do?”

“I don’t know, sir.” I lean forward. “All this talk of fucking me against my will, of ruining me just to get back at Lord Larsen, and yet here I am.” I point at myself with a flourish. “Still untouched.”

“And yet eager to be rutted.”

“Someone in this room should be.”

Another twitch of his mouth. His eyes flash with amusement and heat. “Mark my words, Lady Larsen: I am your Alpha tonight. I can make what’s about to happen extremely painful.”

“And I’m going to ask you one more time: is this the part where I take off my dress?”

His eyes drop to my neckline. My breasts. Then the place where my hip joins my leg. And just when I’m about to ask again, he’s right in front of me. Crowding me against the bed. Palms on either side of my knees.

“But what if I want to fuck you in your mating dress, Sofia?” His face is just an inch from mine. His breath, not quite steady. “What if I want to send you home wearing it, stained with my come all over it? What then, hmm?”

All at once, I cannot think. And it becomes even harder when he leans further into me, his nose running up the column of my neck as I try to hold myself as still as possible.

“What the fuck,” he murmurs into the hollow of my throat, and I shiver.

“What?”

“I’ve met cold Omegas before. They usually smell like Betas.”

“I don’t?”

“You… Fuck.” He inhales again, deeply. But this time, afterward, his tongue licks a stripe at the base of my neck.

I shudder. He does, too.

“You smell so fucking— No one could mistake you for anything but what you are.”

He inches back, face just centimeters from mine. We’re both breathing hard.

“They told you to keep the veil on?” he asks.

I remember Lady Larsen’s words. Nod. “I don’t know why.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t want me to see you.”