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Icarus had smiled, butterflies in his belly, excitement in his throat. He enjoyed the proximity, the look of his mates sated from his cock. He loved to see the pleasure welling beneath their eyelids. The fucked-out expressions that danced over their features, eyes rolled back, and tongue lolled out, drool dripping.

He loved taking his mates to nirvana; to watch them shoot thick ropes of semen all over their little bellies; to see the outlines of his cock bulging with each thrust. He loved to cum so deep within them that his pleasure made their bellies swell. It gave him so much joy to see them quivering, to see their holes slippery with his orgasm, their cocks dripping with pre-cum. The bed soaked with their love.

But a strange part of him burned, was reminded of the time when he had a master, when his body thrummed like a normal Omega's. When his Heats were so hot, needy and slippery, when his cock strained, and tears would slip so easily down his cheeks for something thick in his ass. It was a torturous pleasure like no other, and as much as he hated it…He'd loved it then, when his mates had sneaked into his room just to provide him relief, soft cooing turned quickly into loud keens.

Their lovemaking then had been everything he'd ever wanted.

And a part of him wished his Heats remained just as intense, just as desperate. A part of him had hoped that with Euodia's death, his body would not return to what it once was. That it was not simple satisfaction that wafted through him with each orgasm. That a lacklustre, dreary little grunt was all he could really give. His hips snapping forward, his expression never changing.

But it was.

And Icarus had grasped at straws, had tried to extend the existence of his crazed lust. But his body recovered, returned to the calm, peaceful purrs that escaped his throat when his body was satisfied, to the single night of Heat that was quick to end. The gentle warmth that burned through his veins could never amount to the magnitude of Heats that his mates experienced.

And it was too fucking bad.

Because Icarus was created to be different, and that made him ill with envy, jealousy burning green in his eyes when he watched two mates fuck with a Heat so wild it had them screaming, panting and crying. And if Icarus was honest about it (he denied it so vehemently to his mates, of course), he secretly wanted to submit.

Would love to kneel before Helios, throat barred and waiting for cum. Would enjoy being fucked by Rowan with dopamine pumping through his veins. He'd have them all as his master if he could, and he tried, spent secret hours in the library flipping through the books; months wasted deep in research on the topic; a thousand spells cast upon his body.

But only Euodia could turn him mad with lust, and only Euodia had that power over his body.

And Euodia was dead.

The meeting had been fucking boring.

The vampires were wailing, concerns over precious blood supply being shared and new Alpha blood in their banks were spilled. There was some snappy remark about wasting precious time trying to seduce an Alpha. They didn't want that, even though the stupid motherfuckers knew it was their only chance for survival.

An Alpha that would give them everything was essential to prevent the transformation into a Lonely.

Their people had proved it quickly that simply sucking one dry was not enough, that some kind of connection had to take place. It was something about the chemicals in the blood when an Alpha was happy, something about an Omega's own mentality that helped with the process.

A little lying should be easy, after all, the Alphas would eventually be dead. Icarus had snorted, shook his head. They were babies that hadn't experienced the horrors of a woman like Euodia, to be torn by a slave bond that ravaged his mind and shook his soul.

Icarus had scratched his throat and resisted the urge to yawn, toyed with the packet and the straw. Elysian had been right, the vampires needed to see him drink. And they seemed to freeze, their eyes catching sight of the bag.

On the print, three places of origin. He'd peered at the words, noted the authenticity stamp from the bank. It was a promised mixture of two Omegas and some Alphas that led to different notes and tastes. A number code was inked at the back for the batch. And Icarus had stuck a straw in, toasted to his lover with a hasty jerk of his wrist and sipped from the bag.

His body had jerked, fire billowing, molten unfurling.

A rush of heat began from his throat and travelled to his cock. He'd swallowed, eyes wide, shivering as he tasted, and drank so hard he couldn't stop. It shouldn't be anything different. God, he knew the taste of an Omega. Icarus didn't drink much blood, and that made him sensitive to the droplets of it. He could identify the notes and the blend, could taste what other vampires couldn't.

From the bag, he could smell the Omegas—healthy diets and simple meals, blood that was basic and as boring as carbs on their own with nothing else. And then the watery bits from foreign sources—an Alpha or two that was malnourished. But there was something in the mixture that slipped silkily down his throat; something that made him freeze, his brows scrunched tight and in his throat the beginnings of an airy moan.

It was velvety, with a creamy mouthful that filled his belly with warmth. It had a smoothness that vanished easily on his tongue; a melt-in-mouth texture that flowed down his throat in creamy malty blends. A smooth caramel sweetness that followed with a bite of bitter from a pristine, almost alcoholic edge that had his mind reeling.

And a final solid, zesty punch that spread across his tongue in juicy fresh trickles. The best fruit he could put a name to it was peach. The blood was like golden honeyed globes of the juiciest, sweetest peach, but in a form that he could only describe as the richest cup of creamy milk. It was indescribable, quenched and filled him so easily, and yet he wanted more.

Delicious. It tasted better than his mates, and that was impossible. Fucking impossible, for the love of a vampire's life should taste like the best thing in the world. The bag was empty before he knew it, his straw digging into the plastic.

His slurping was noisy, air flooding his mouth. And he blinked, crushed the last beneath his fingers, licked at what was left on his lips. There was heat in his cheeks, and more throbbing between his legs, a strange euphoria flooding his chest. And everyone was staring, a strange look in their eyes. Even Elysian seemed confused.

He supposed he seemed a little over the top with his acting, but his reactions were genuine. His almost orgasm was real. And his hips shook, the tip of his cock more sensitive than normal, brushing against now too rough denim.

Icarus didn't know what to say, and embarrassment flooded his chest. He leaned back, shrugged. 'The blood banks do good work.' He grunted, tossed the bag into the trash, but his eyes swayed longingly to lick the insides of the plastic. The purchase of Alpha blood mix would skyrocket later, but Icarus was rushing home that day, his tongue desperate for more. His cock was hard and dripping from something else.

'You weren't just trying to promote the product,' Elysian had chided, a smile on his lip. 'You really liked it.'

'Yeah,' he breathed, had pushed the vampire down on the car seat. 'And you look fucking amazing.' He'd exhaled, felt the exhilarating rush of lust pool through his chest, a familiar burn of heat wafting through his frame. 'Can I?' His hands had slipped too quickly into silky boxers, had pulled out a thick shaft that quickly swelled with blood.

'Y-yeah,' his mate had exhaled, eyes dilating. 'Oh God, baby—'

'Got me so fucking horny, watching you pulverise them all,' he'd fibbed. 'When you lashed out at them like that—so fucking sexy, wanted to sink my fangs into your cock.'

'Fuck, you like it when I'm aggressive?' Elysian had almost sobbed when he began rubbing the head of his penis with the surface of his palm. His pre-cum bubbled, sticky on his hands. 'Icarus…'

'Yeah, yeah I do,' he'd groaned, tugged naked hips towards his.

He fucked Elysian through three orgasms in the car, had even taken a cock to the ass with a whispery moan. Elysian had been a pleased, well-sated Omega, purred beautifully in his arms on the way home.

But Icarus had been distracted even after a satisfying lift of his hips from the now limp dick of his mate. His heart had been pounding for something else when he returned, anticipation burning in his chest.

He needed more.