"You'll do it," Zen chided, a strange rage deep in his eyes. His lips against his ear. "You can't hurt her. Never." He was released, dropped to the ground there he watched the gorgeous creature slowly pull herself up. "Quinn," Zen murmured. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she nodded, voice barely a whisper, her cheeks were grey, queasiness in her eyes. And that seemed to change his Omega, the rush of lust destroyed by the look in her eyes. Rowan sniffed and his wolf recoiled as if stung, the peach soured like decay.
But Rowan was resilient, he was needy, he was fucking horny, and he hated her. "I knew what I saw!" he stated. "I know what I felt." His eyes narrowed, stare hard. "Do not lie to me, Alpha. You did something to me that day in that damn room." His voice dipped into a growl. "You used me."
"I…" she stammered, fear soiled her scent, and he hated it. "I did not."
"You fucked me," he hissed through clenched teeth. "You took me in my Heat when I was vulnerable and crazy. And you used me when you knew you shouldn't have." His lips stretched wide into a crazed laugh. "It's only fair that I take from you what you've taken from me."
"You ordered me to touch you," her words were sharp in the air, a bite through the frost. "You threatened to kill me if I didn't." His smile faltered, mind searching for truth. "I only did as you asked." Her gaze was hard, steely. "I did what I had to do to survive. And I am no Alpha."
Rowan growled, but his heart pounded. "You're lying, you smell potent and you have—"
"Your highness," she whispered, eyes on Zen as if he gave her strength, as if he were her support. And God, Rowan hated it. "I'm not in a position to lie." There was a sag in her frame, an exhaustion that flooded her expression. "I used what I had to help you, but never once did my clit enter your body. Frankly, it would be impossible with my length. I used my hands, objects. I couldn't touch you. It would not be right."
Her voice was ragged, awful, burning. And the peach of her scent had soured so quick it had his body quacking with the wrongness of it. "Show it to me," Rowan hissed, eyes hard. It was impossible, he couldn't have been wrong about the godly girth, the tremendous pleasure. He wanted it, he dreamt of it, and for it to not exist would be hell. "Drop your pants."
"Rowan," Zen chided but he shoved him away.
"She had a massive clit." He was crude and that had her lips dropping open, mouth wide. "It was the only thing that allowed me to cum in this life. I want it."
"It's not me," she shook her head vehemently. "I'm Beta, we're not built that way—"
"She's a Beta," Zen interrupted, defensive.
"Take off your clothes, woman," Rowan snapped, a growl in his throat. He didn't care of the rotting peach, didn't care that his Omega wailed, and his body begged him not to give the order, but he did. "I order you to do it. I fucking order you to do it, as your King."
"Rowan, this isn't what we—"
"She's just a girl, Zenie. She's just a bitch, and we shall see that this girl is a liar, a liar that's pretending to be a Beta so that you will drop down your guard. I don't fucking care if you like her, if you want her to be our pack. But she's an Alpha, no Beta can smell that good." Rowan hissed and turned, coldness in his eyes. "Do it now or you'll face the consequences."
Zen was angry, he could taste the rage—burnt biscuits in the oven. "Quinn, you don't have to—"
"I swear to fucking God," Rowan snarled, claws lengthening, his Omega screamed, pheromones twisting in the air and concentrating upon her. The order was one that came straight from his soul. "STRIP NOW AND BEND OVER OR I'LL—"
And Rowan paused, lips quivering frozen amid his ease into familiar words that threatened punishment. It was her face that stopped him, the look in her eyes that had him swallowing hard, the awfulness of it so stark it surprised him.
The dullness in her eyes was horrifying because it was familiar.
"Of course, your highness," she said, voice a monotonous drone, eyes slightly glazed. The peach soured, and Rowan struggled to take back his words, to call off the order. "Anything you want."
But a haughty smile remained on his cheek, his eyes dragging to Zen. Zen who vibrated with rage as if he were the one in the wrong. But oh, Rowan was right. And the Alpha had been lying to his little mate, Zen had to see it for himself. The monster that she truly was.
Zen called, panic laced in his tone. "Quinn, it's alright you don't have to—"
But in the snow, she began peeling off her clothes quickly, too quickly, lips pursed into a thin line. She was expressionless as she knelt and removed until there was skin and flesh before Zen could stop her. And she was right, there was nothing, no flaccid length between her parted legs, but instead a thatch of curls. She had a clit too small to fuck anyone, much less him.
She was Beta—a broken female, one with limited senses, inabilities to procreate, an inability to Rut.
Rowan stumbled his heart hammered in his chest. This wasn't how he wanted things to go, he'd wanted to be right. He wanted Zen to realise that she was the poison that they knew and that he couldn't allow himself to sink in too deep into his care for her. And then he'd wanted to fuck her, to allow it as a generous king. Only now he was the one in wrong, and there was no heavenly clit waiting for him and a woman that he knew he could kill so easily for her wrongdoings.
And now he was the one at fault, so like the spoilt little brat Rowan pushed. "Bend over," he hissed. "You're tucking it in, aren't you? You're doing something to your cunt—"
And she did without a word, turned like cattle and bent forward in a way that startled him so much his breath caught in his throat. He hated how much he liked it. He hated how he drank it in like a man possessed. And she was right, and she was beautiful. The swell of her hips, the dip of her waist, the chubby swollen folds of her pussy.
The bulge of it was too small, round ruby gemstone between fat folds, then the soak of her hole that dripped and wafted with what should be the sweetest of her scent, but instead all he tasted in the air was despair. And he felt sick at it.
There was a wetness in his eyes and God he hurt, he hurt to see her like this with no light in her eyes and a sag in her shoulders. And he felt only worse as his eyes darted to Zen who trembled as if he couldn't hold himself too, eyes downcast as if he didn't want to look.
Because in that moment Rowan saw what he'd become.
Her fingers shook when she went up to do her buttons, to the fabric that covered her breast. And he stood, moved so quick with his arm raised to stop her, choked by the smell of angry, sad peach. Her voice was angry, and too soft. "Happy?"
And he looked at her then, really looked at her face, at her eyes, at the unshed tears. Years ago, he'd be the one on his knees, and yet here he was in the position of power. And like a cold rush through his system, he didn't like what he was remembering, what he paralleled. He stepped back, breathing heavily, tongue flopping uselessly.
"No," he answered, hollow. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, almost immediately. He saw her eyes then, the grimace from broken dullness to something wet. "I just wanted to confirm. I didn't mean to hurt you this way, I'm sorry. I just couldn't believe that you didn't—" And he stopped as cloth covered her body, a long cloak shielding her nudity.
"Zen," she whispered, and he glanced up to look at his mate, despair clouding his throat.
"God Quinn," Zen's voice was gentle. "You didn't have to listen to him."
"I didn't want to put you on the spot," she answered. "Especially not with your true mate, your highness." Her eyes were cold. "I'm just a Beta. And you should go home with him."
Zen rushed, and Rowan wondered then why he hadn't stopped her, hadn't wrapped his arms around her the way he did now when she'd began peeling off her clothes. "I still want you as my mate. You are still my mate, and Rowan will be yours too. It will be—"
"Is that an order?" her words were cold.
"No," Zen shook his head. "I might be King, but you don't have to listen—"