“Gabriel,” I murmur on the tail end of a yawn.

“Yes, love?”

“I’m glad you did what you did.”

He chuckles. Another kiss. “Me too, Sofia. Me too.”

When I wake up the following morning, I am wet between my legs.

Chapter 12

THE MORNING Sofia

The Omega man from the previous night comes to fetch me just a couple of hours after the rise of the sun—which, incidentally, I witness in its entirety from the bed. The servant quarters in House Larsen have no windows, and I’ve never experienced anything like the play of the light through the water: the eerie blue of the night becomes purple, then indigo, then softens into oranges.

I wonder if it looks like this every day. No way of knowing, because I’ll never be back to these quarters.

It’s a relief, I tell myself. And for the most part, I believe it.

“My lady,” the man says after clearing his throat, just as unhappy with my presence as last night. More, possibly. “I will escort you to breakfast.”

“I get breakfast?” I tilt my head. “Is that standard practice?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is it part of the whole Right thing, feeding an Omega after ripping them from the arms of their mate?”

“I wouldn’t know, as the general has never claimed the Right before yesterday.”

“First time for anything, hmm?” I wink at the man, who appears willing to risk a clog to flush me down the sealing system.

“The general often has Omegas spend the night with him, though,” he adds. “And yes, he does offer them a meal afterward.”

I’m not sure why my stomach drops at hearing that, and I don’t care to investigate the matter. “What a gentleman. I’m Sofia, by the way.” I hold out my hand and try not to laugh at the way he turns his nose up at me. “And as a person who is clearly aware of social mores, I assume you’ll tell me your name any second now…?”

“Bastian,” he says after a long pause, looking like he ate something sour. “I serve the general as his seneschal.”

Have I heard this name before? Yes. Recently. Very recently. But the memory is fuzzy, and I cannot place it. “Nice to meet you, Bastian.”

“I wish I could say the same, Lady Larsen. Follow me, please. And,” he adds, letting his eyes fall to my torso, “I will expect you to return the tunic and pants you stole from the general’s closet. “

I look down at the too-big clothes I have to practically beg to stay on my body and wonder why on earth I would want to steal them. Still, I try to match his gravity. “I shall strive not to disappoint you, Bastian.”

We wind through a handful of austere corridors that have nothing of the opulence I know from House Larsen. At the end of them is a dining room, and Gabriel sits at table inside it. He’s on a bench and not at the head. The moment we appear at the entrance, he glances up and turns off the holo blueprint he’s studying. There are a handful of dirty plates scattered around him, hinting that others were present but recently left. When he gestures for me to take a seat across from him, I ignore the leap in my heart and brush past Bastian. As I do, a whiff of something familiar hits my nose.

I halt.

“The deputy commander,” I murmur, halting in my tracks.

“Excuse me?”

“You smell like the Alpha woman who escorted me here last night. The deputy commander. Are you her Omega?”

His eyes widen. “I thought cold Omegas were supposed to be as bad as Betas when it comes to scents.”

“Yeah. We usually are.” In my experience, at least, I’ve never been able to tell things such as who was mated to whom before today. It’s weird, and I’d dedicate some time to wondering why, but Bastian leaves, and I have no choice but to go sit in front of Gabriel.

The morning light slips inside through another window, caressing the handsome, sharp features of his face, painting his hair silver-white, transporting me to last night’s dream against my will. Today he’s not wearing his armor, and yet he manages to look even more imposing than usual. Perhaps because the illusion that his bulk might be caused by something other than muscles is completely shattered.

“You look good in military blue, Lady Larsen.”

I glance down at the shirt, which reaches nearly to my knees. I don’t look good. I look tired and disheveled and probably foolish, too. “Everyone here really loves calling me that, huh?”

“It’s your new title.”

“And your new favorite insult.”

He turns his head away, like maybe he hopes that I won’t catch the smile on his lips. I let him think whatever he wants as I glance at the breads and jams laid out in front of me, the basket of pastries, the coffee steaming from the mug.

I usually roll out of bed late and scarf down a protein unit on my way to work. Every night, I take tea with Lady Larsen, and usually there is an assortment of sweet treats to go with it, but this is just too much luxury for me. “I’m not sure I’ve done anything to earn this spread, General.”

“Oh,” he says cryptically, “you certainly did.”

I tilt my head. Study the way he studies me. “Why were you called away last night?”

“Eat.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing to concern you. You didn’t have dinner last night—eat.”

“What happened, General?”

“Out of curiosity, have you ever done as you’re told?”

“Once or twice. What happened?”

He sighs. I think he’s stopped pretending that he doesn’t enjoy the back talk. “Same old, same old. Let’s call it a random accident. Two engineers were involved.”

“What? Take me there. I can help the healers who⁠—”

“They are now in Valhalla, Sofia.”

My jaw drops. “What were their names? I have a lot of friends among the engineers. Some of my father’s former soldiers practically raised me⁠—”

“They’re fine.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“I can. None of the victims ever worked with your father.”

I glare at him. “You can’t know that.”

“I know my army.”

I think about treating his wound ten years ago and think, I don’t doubt it. “What went wrong?”

“What a question. Maybe when I send you back, you should ask it to your beloved mate. I’m sure he’d have some great insight.”

“Lennart is a healer. He would never do anything like that.”

“What about his father? Your new father.”

The words feel like a slap. “Do not ever say that again,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “I had a father, and Lord Larsen isn’t worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as him. There is little I would put past that man, including killing engineers in cold blood. But Lennart wouldn’t stand by and let him.”

A short, bitter laugh. “No member of that family has done jack shit to stop Lord Larsen. They all know, and they are all complicit.”

I think about Lady Larsen. Lara. Lennart. They may be spineless, but they wouldn’t allow anything like that, I know it. Still, I would love an opportunity to ask them directly. Just to be sure. “Am I allowed to leave?”

Gabriel spends a minute thinking about it, clearly savoring his power over my whereabouts. “Not yet.”

“The first night is over.”

He leans forward, elbows on each side of his plate. “Is it? Because I feel like I didn’t quite…” He drifts off. Freezes. At once, his nostrils widen as he inhales deeply. After a moment he lets out a low “fuck.”

“Fuck?”

His pupils are little more than pinpricks. “Do you always smell like this in the morning?”

“I…” I last showered before the ceremony. This morning I washed my face, just like every day. I haven’t done enough to work up an odor. “Smell like what?”

“Like…” He shakes his head as if to expel something from it.

I inhale, too, but all I can smell is the yeast of the bread. And, of course, Gabriel’s powerful, lovely Alpha scent. This morning, when I woke up in his bed, it hit me even harder than last night. So hard, all I want is to grab his palm and bring it to my face and bite into his wrist. I want to lick him and feel his taste against the roof of my mouth. I want to bury my nose into his skin and just breathe.