Six loved Euodia till the day she died.
Zen was a sacrificial lamb. A child of science and magic, a being created to be the best, the strongest, and the tastiest. He had been the Matriarchy's ultimate weapon, their last line of defence, and later, their greatest enemy.
Zen was Death.
A lab-created beast of an ancient well cultivated bloodline. A cruel mixture of fey, wolf and vampire genes teased into a monstrous creation of the rawest form of magic. There should be no humanity in his veins, no true intelligence behind pretty hazel eyes coiled tight with the most beastly of every species. He was no more than a well-bred dog, modified to obey and to strike on command.
But Zen did not.
He was born prettier than he should be, softer than he seemed. The widest of doe-eyes, dripping with his need to please. He was raised as a godly pet, a well-manufactured bunny that curled pretty around Euodia's legs and lapped water from her hands.
And Zen was destined to die.
His days had been numbered when the borders fell to the rebels' attack. It began with a single pill in his bowl. He'd peered at it, the red and blue bright against the metal. Confused, he'd stared up at Euodia and then at Icarus's own empty bowl on the ground. Euodia had smiled, cupped his cheek with icy fingers. And he shivered.
"Eat it darling," her lips pursed, detest flickering in bored, empty eyes. "It's medicine. There's fat on your belly that I don't like."
Zen had blinked, teeth snagged on his lip. His eyes meandered down his frame, to the growth that had sprung from one too many of Elysian's cookies slipped quickly to him in the depths of the night.
His six had not mentioned his inadequacies, had instead smothered the curve of his hips with kisses that were heavy with something bubbly and sweet. And in their shared Heats, his friends had fondled his flesh, delved their fingers into the softness and squeezed as they rutted against him towards an explosive finish. Zen didn't know what it was that made his heart race and his cheeks warm, but he knew that he enjoyed it.
There was joy in their eyes when they felt his body's growth, a smile as they squeezed his cheeks and the flesh of his ass. They proclaimed him to be finally healthy, no longer bones wrapped in the skin of an adorable Omega. His heart had quickened, the sweetness of that memory now souring with the words of his Alpha.
They called Euodia a Beta, but to Zen, Euodia would always be his Alpha.
The exhale by his side had his gaze snapping towards his partner. Icarus knelt by his side; collar heavy on his throat. The runes carved into his skin should be enough, pretty and glittering in gold. They were prettier when he came, head tossed back and muscles rippling. But Euodia liked heavy leather collars, and so Zen did too.
Icarus hated it, had hissed in the quiet that the collars were meant to take them both down a peg and destroy their minds. It was for them to accept their status as animals, as Omegas beneath the Alphas. But Zen did not see it that way; he was proud to be seen as his Alpha's pet. And he was happy to be hers.
Truly happy.
The violet in Icarus's eyes had been sharp in that moment, a small hiss spilling through clenched teeth—he did not like the pill. But Icarus did not like a lot of things that Euodia did. Zen only wanted to please her. So he leaned closer to the cold ground and lapped at the capsule, swallowing it down with the sticky remains of his dinner.
"Open," she tapped at his lip, and he did, showing her his tongue. "Good."
The pain that night had been electrifying, pounding and thick, with blood soaking every inch of his skin and spewing from his lips. His body was collecting the magic, listening to his mistress' orders to coil tighter and release into her grasp.
He was dying.
But Zen continued to believe that the pills Euodia fed to him daily were merely the medicine she claimed would make him prettier. He did not think that he would die, could not accept that this was her attempt to harness his power. It was impossible. She loved him!
It was the gentle truth from his six that planted the seeds of doubt in his mind.
"What do you mean?" he'd asked, curled in Solar's lap. He had a spell of weakness that night that sent him careening to the ground. And now his friends only wanted him wrapped safely in their arms. Solar had been his first friend, and now something else, something more. But Zen didn't know what it was, didn't understand the giddy happiness that flooded his veins when he saw his six. "I'm dying?"
"You are a weapon," he'd nodded as if he didn't just reveal the biggest secret of Zen's little sheltered life. He held Zen's hand, shaky as he spoke. "You're merely a container for power. Those pills tear at your magic, ripping you from the inside. Your body will split open soon, and she'll be able to harness your energy and wield it as her own. You know how strong you are, baby."
Elysian had agreed, running his fingers through Zen's hair. The Omega's lips had pulled into a straight line. "It's made to reject your Omega nature."
"I've heard of it in the streets—the black death," Rowan agreed. Irritation lined his jaw, and he buzzed in his seat. The look in his eyes weighed heavily on Zen's shoulders. "Banned substance. Whether that bitch can actually feed on what's left of you is a good question. She's no fey."
Helios had let out a soft snort. "We don't know for sure."
"It will, however, kill every Omega in the vicinity," Icarus said gruffly, scratching his nose as he spoke in a slow, angry tone that had chills running up his spine. "With the amount she feeds you and the volatility of your powers, you'll become a well-timed bomb."
Klaus had nodded then, dimples replaced by an expression that scared him. The Omega was mad, and rage burned through his features. His emotions were fervid and rippling across handsome features, but for Zen he was sweet. His heart soared then for the man before him, but Zen did not understand. "You are not safe here," he said—voice soft and velvety. "Baby, please let Helios and Rowan take you away."
"But why?" Zen had exclaimed. "Why would she do this to me?"
His skin felt tight, nausea thick in his throat. He could smell her in the air, the sweetness suddenly sickly to his churning stomach. He blinked; eyes wet. He'd seen her do bad things to others; things that made him want to cry, and he did so in the darkness of his chambers. But her promise remained. Zen was special. Zen could change her.
Zen was her true Omega, and they would be mates one day.
But lately her eyes had been dull, emotionless, as if he'd done something wrong. It began when he showed her his power. When he wielded energy like it was nothing, crushed everything in his path. Diamonds into dust. Mountains into empty planes. Her jaw had ticked then, growing colder.
"I love her," Zen had whimpered, fallen to his knees with a sob. "She wouldn't do that to me." They were hurt by their mistress after all. And he knew that they hated her. They must be lying. "You're lying. You're all lying. I know you are."
His six Omegas had exchanged glances. There was something hard in their eyes. Something that made his chest hurt worse than the acid that burned down his limbs from the drugs. They argued about it, of course they did. Each with their own story of her twisted ways, but Zen would not hear it. He was in denial.
That night Icarus had smoothed a wet rag over his feverish skin, tucked him into bed with a soft whisper that sounded so much like 'I love you' that his body had trembled.
Eventually, he asked about the pills, soft and teary that night over dinner at her feet. At first, she denied it with a small laugh, and when she realised, he could not be convinced she'd grown silent. Her eyes had been accusatory, burning when she slid the pill onto his plate.
She'd smiled. "How much do you love me?"
"More than anything."