Kylian should have realized something was deeply wrong when he found himself lifting his hand to his nose, just to catch the lingering scent of the Omega. He should have recognized how twisted it was, long before his tongue brushed over his own fingers, tasting the faint traces that remained of the boy.
It was obscene. Unbecoming of a prince. But a madness had gripped him, a need that gnawed at his insides, impossible to ignore.
The moment he was far enough from Marius' quarters, out of earshot of anyone who mattered, the control he clung to unraveled. His voice tore through the quiet of the hallway, sharp and commanding.
"Get me a Bedni."
The guard standing at attention flinched at the tone, bowing quickly before taking off at a sprint, his footsteps echoing down the hall as he rushed to fulfill the prince's demand.
Kylian stormed into his chambers, his mind a restless storm of thoughts he couldn't tame. His boots thudded against the polished floor as he paced, the tension coiling tighter with each step. His chest heaved, and every breath felt too shallow, like he couldn't quite fill his lungs. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, frustrated with himself, frustrated with the thoughts of Marius that refused to leave his head.
He stopped in front of the mirror, staring at his own reflection, as if searching for something that might explain this madness. His face, normally composed, was strained, eyes burning with a desire he despised. He swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the vanity.
Then, just behind him—there. A flicker. Marius, standing silently, his dark eyes wide with fear.
Kylian spun around, his heart thudding in his chest, but the room was empty. The space behind him was as it always had been, still and untouched. His pulse raced as he turned back to the mirror, but now, there was nothing. Just his reflection, staring back at him, haunted and hollow.
A bitter laugh escaped him, low and humorless. "I'm so pathetic," he muttered under his breath. He dragged a hand down his face, disgusted with the version of himself that he saw in the glass.
A soft knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. He straightened, collecting himself, though the tension still buzzed beneath his skin.
"Come in," he called, his voice sounding more composed than he felt.
The door creaked open, and a woman stepped inside, her dress flowing around her like a wave of rich purple silk. The Bedni woman wore the color well—it clung to her curves, draped over her form in a way that was meant to entice. Her hair, dark and glossy, fell in loose waves down her back. She bowed gracefully, eyes lowering in deference before flicking up to meet his.
"You called for me, my prince," she said softly, her voice smooth, practiced.
Kylian turned to face her, running his hand through his hair again, agitated. His eyes raked over her, but it was clear she wasn't the one he had been waiting for. "Where is Bedelia?"
The woman kept her head bowed slightly, though there was no missing the sly smile that tugged at her lips. "Your favored woman was not in her chambers, my prince. I apologize on her behalf." She glanced up at him, her eyes glimmering with something more than just duty. "I know I could never take her place, but…" She stepped closer, the scent of jasmine and something sweet filling the room. "Let me take the edge off you tonight."
Her words were carefully chosen, each syllable draped in suggestion. Kylian's eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, and for a second, something like hesitation crossed his face. But the tension that gripped him, the maddening frustration that twisted inside, pushed him forward. He sighed, resigned, his eyes darkening.
"You'll do," he said, his voice heavy with want.
He crossed the distance between them in three quick strides, his hand reaching up to grab a fistful of her hair. The movement wasn't gentle, but neither was it cruel. There was a hunger in his eyes, and the woman's smile widened as she met his gaze.
Kylian pulled her close, their lips crashing together in a kiss that was anything but tender. It was raw, tight, their mouths moving with a kind of desperation that neither spoke aloud. The need to drown out the thoughts in his head, to silence the maddening pull of the Omega he couldn't stop thinking about, drove him forward.
The Bedni woman responded eagerly, her hands moving to his chest as he backed her toward the bed. She seemed to relish the force in his grip, her body yielding to him as he pushed her back, the soft fabric of her dress slipping between his fingers. Kylian's movements were quick, controlled, but behind that control was a tempest barely restrained.
Their bodies met, and he barely registered the soft, low sounds she made as they kissed. His mind was somewhere else, tangled in thoughts of power, desire, and the curse of the bond he didn't want to acknowledge. His hand tightened in her hair as he lowered her onto the bed, his breath ragged as his frustration mounted.
There was a desperation to it, a frantic need to lose himself, if only for a while. To forget the way Marius had looked at him, the scent of the Omega still lingering in his mind like a forbidden drug. Kylian's lips moved down her neck, but the satisfaction he sought eluded him, always just out of reach.
The woman beneath him arched her back, her hands tracing the muscles of his arms as if urging him on, but Kylian's mind was elsewhere. His body moved on instinct, plastic, his frustration only growing with every moment. He wanted to drown in her, to smother the thoughts that clung to him, but no matter how close he brought her, no matter how hard he kissed her, it wasn't enough.
He wasn't hard. No matter how much he fondled her and how much she touched him, he wasn't turned on.
When the Bedni girl reached for his pants, to pull them down, she noticed the Prince was unmistakenly soft and for a Bedni, that was a sentence.