Beginning of Chapter 11

Five was a prisoner born to abhor her kind.

The son of the fallen ancient kingdom of the North—a land that Euodia's ancestors had declared authority over through capitalism and warfare. Icarus was of true, ancient royalty—a blue blood with hair as white as snow and lips as red as blood.

He was of people that remembered the time before the matriarchy; before the sickness created the Omegaverse; before the people transformed into supernatural beasts. Shifters, vampires, and fey were by-products of medicine to save mankind from a deadly virus. And Icarus's people were the last to be cured with the finest of technology, had been given the best of it all.

And that made them vampires of royalty.

Vampires that did not require just as much blood. Vampires that were not as troubled by the needs of the Omegaverse. Vampires that did not scream and sob through their Heats and Ruts the way the others did. Icarus's people were beyond their kind in strength, resilience, and power. And yet a decorum remained, their dignity preserved.

They were the rulers of the Before.

But they had a single deadly flaw.

A weakness that was discovered by Euodia's own court. A spell of slavery harnessed by the wolves in the dim, unforgiving light of the moon. And his people had known nothing of its existence, had not been privy to the weakness their enemies discovered, knew nothing of their impending doom.

Their destruction was foretold in the stars.

Icarus lived most of his life in the glow of fluorescent yellow, to rusting pipes and wet rock for walls. He dwelled deep underground, in the heart of the rebel's stronghold, protected and cherished as their best. He'd trained to rule, trained to fight.

His parents wanted the North; his people wanted justice. The citizens wanted revenge.

But the rebels were not quite as clever with the ways of the world. His parents had been far too kind, far too stupid, began their siege with emotion clouding all decision. They waged war against an army that far outnumbered their people 3 to 1, fought when the air was too cold, and food was too scarce.

There was no sacrifice in their battle, and they tried to save all when they could not. The rebels were not as bloodthirsty and as violent as the Northern Alphas. And that made them ants in a nest, clawing against an armoured boot.

It had been too easy for the Northern Alphas to spike their drinking source with poison and end their supplies with a tap of their fingers. A hard winter was all it took for their people to betray them for blood and coal. His people had been drugged when they came armed in metal that cancelled all magic.

His family was murdered, throats ripped apart by soldiers that came flooding through the caves. His mother and sister had been first to go, and then his father, who'd shielded their bodies from the bullets with open arms. His people were enslaved. The remains of a nation were gone in mere hours.

Icarus was the last pure-blooded Omega of his kind.

For thirty days, he was kept in a cell that saw no light. A million ways to kill listed softly on his breath like a chant, his body trembling with the need to take revenge. His first taste of fresh air had been chained to the feet of the Beta princess.

Euodia.

He knew she was weak, could hear her sour blood pounding through her veins, could almost taste it misting in the air when his hands pulled apart the rubbery tubes of arteries and veins. And he felt his magic, shifting swiftly to take a hold of the fluids within her. His power dancing deep within his soul, turning blood into his weapons.

He had snarled and writhed when the spell had been placed upon his throat.

A ring of runes carved deep into his skin, Euodia's blood as its ink. The moon had been high above their heads, a circle of wolves and fey had chanted their spells in rhythmic unison. He'd lunged for the princess when the chains were removed and then fell like a marionette. A butterfly with torn wings, birds with no feathers. His first sane thought was for his own sharpened claws to go for his throat.

But his world had been on fire.

Bound to Euodia's body, Icarus was a slave, unable to kill, unable to deny.

Without her presence, her touch, her scent, her sex? He would experience only a world of flames. Icarus could not disobey, could not go against her will. His mind fought, but his body listened like a fool, so deeply and irrevocably in love with a master that did not love. And with it a Heat so great the pain seemed to whistle through his ears, one that sent him howling and weeping through it all.

His cock, God, his cock, it was all he could think of. The way it stood, hard and begging for something to ease. An Alpha. An Alpha. His Alpha, and with that came a rush of runny, honeyed sleek that trickled down his thighs. His hole fluttering for something to tug upon, something to pull deep inside him, for warmth to fill his belly. For a body upon his own, warm and comforting. He wanted connection; he wanted pleasure. He wanted everything.

It was always a rush of dopamine, a flood of need to please that was so great it pounded in his heart like the fluttery beginnings of affection. The influence seemed like genuine raw love. Denial to her will was as painful as heartbreak. Quickly he'd been reduced, would continue to have heats far worse than the average Omega, needed his Alpha so desperately that he'd scream his throat raw.

But she never came.

And she never would.

He'd writhed through tears and then had been docile, testing the bond each day, begging his mind to never break. In the torturous hell, he trained to resist. And it was easy, too fucking easy, to hate a monster like Euodia.

Princess fucking Euodia was a tyrant.

It was so easy to break free from her hold upon his mind when he had to watch  Helios's broken smile and Solar's bleeding body; had to look at Elysian with tears flooding his eyes. And Rowan's cries for mercy for the children starving in the streets. To watch Klaus bow, and Zen scream.

It was too easy to hate her.

And that made it so easy for him to stand silent and smiling when she died. His lips to her beating heart, her blood flooding his mouth. The spell had left him as she died, for on his tongue was his master, and in his blood, flowed the remains of her heart. And it seemed enough. It seemed okay.

Until one day.

It had been nothing out of the ordinary, Solar in his laps, well-sated from good lovemaking. And Icarus had been lazy in bed, a contented purr on his lips. Elysian had entered a smile on his lips. They'd exchanged a chaste but gentle kiss. His beautiful mate had laughed, squeaky and high-pitched, and he'd grinned, painted lazy circles on his skin with his hands.

He was in love.

'Want some blood?' Elysian had asked, bubbly and loud, shook a packet in his hands. 'Zen said they're really good. We've got a whole box of this, it's his new favourite.' His oldest mate had huffed, stared at the packet. 'A new mixture from the blood bank—'

'They're mixing blood now?' he'd frowned. A scoff blew free from his lips.

'You know how our people are like,' Elysian had laughed, hands tousling Solar's hair, the fairy had whined. 'No one will pick Alpha blood. They'll never touch it on the shelves, anything from a woman they avoid like the plague. We'll have to mix it up with Omega and make it cheap.'

'Defeats the fucking purpose,' Icarus sighed, 'when the vampires will need to drink from an Alpha to regularly to live.' He'd turned, feet kissing cold ground, squinted at the print. 'You know I always prefer my mates?' he'd purred, held Elysian's hand to kiss the inner part of his wrist. 'It's the creamiest, and the frothiest, when we fuck.' The vampire flushed, fresh blood rushing to paint his cheeks red. He loved the colour on him, the way it brought out the blue in his eyes.

'This is a good blend curated by the connoisseurs, and the people will need to see us drinking it to accept it.' Elysian chastised, tapped his finger against Icarus's nose. 'Bring a bag out with you to the meeting. You know our vampires look up to you as our royalty.'

'They love you more.'

'Our people do,' Elysian agreed with a haughty sniff. 'I'm gorgeous. But they respect you.'

'Fuck,' Icarus sighed, waved a hand as he rose to change. Solar had groaned, shifted to reveal a mess of love bites running up his back. His wings fluttering softly, a gossamer that had Icarus's hands fingering the base, this had his mate shivering. He paused, a cheeky smile on his lip. If he did more, he'd have a whimpering Omega in his arms begging for cock. 'Fine, I'll do it. Take a long, good hard suck for you at the meeting, pretend that I enjoy it. When I don't.'

'Thank you, my little kitty,' Elysian had teased nuzzled his throat where his bite mark lay, silvery upon his skin. The runes had faded ages ago, and the gold no longer burned his skin. The letters now remained docile, just a pretty little scar of his past. It was a part of him, and Icarus had learnt to appreciate its existence, for it led him to his six. Icarus had waved him off, a teasing snarl.

'Fuck you.'

'After,' Elysian agreed, fingers around his waist, long digits slipping down his pants. 'After the meeting with the council.'

'All of you are so fucking horny.'

'Only for all of you,' Elysian assured, pressed a kiss on his shoulder. 'Only for my kings.'