by Tanya Chris
“Hey,” he called to the beta who seemed to be in charge. “Shut this down.” He strode toward her with Daisy chasing at his heels.
“I hired them.” Daisy tugged on his arm. “You can’t just give them orders.” Daisy wasn’t strong enough to stop him, but Quoitrel came to a polite stop anyway. He’d been raised to treat omegas right, which was what he was trying to do.
“You’re not opening a bordello. Not here or anywhere in North Leland.”
“Let’s talk about it, Sheriff,” Daisy curled his fingers around Quoitrel’s bicep, squeezing the muscle there appreciatively. “I’m sure we can work something out.” He licked those pearly pink lips, giving them an extra shine.
“Are you trying to bribe me?”
“I’m offering you a free sample, because you’re such a very important alpha. I assure you my services are top notch. Why not try before going all law enforcement on me?” He trailed a finger down the center of Quoitrel’s chest until his hand landed on Quoitrel’s belt buckle. It lingered there, toying with the end of the leather strap.
“I could arrest you just for this.”
“But you wouldn’t, would you?” Daisy swayed close enough that his scent wafted over Quoitrel like a promise.
“I wouldn’t want to.”
“Or—here’s an even better idea—you could. Take me down to the jailhouse and lock me up. Bondage is usually extra, but for you I’d make an exception.”
“I’m not locking you up.” Shit. “I mean, I prefer not to lock anyone up. The point is—”
“I can feel the point rubbing against me right now.” Daisy shimmied, and though they weren’t really making direct contact, Quoitrel swore he could feel the heat of Daisy’s skin against his cock. He wasn’t sure when he’d gotten hard, but he was for sure hard now, with a low ache that suggested he’d been hard a while. His tongue flicked over the edge of one razor sharp fang as he looked down at the pretty omega making calf eyes up at him, wondering if Daisy tasted as good as he smelled.
He gave himself a mental shake. Daisy was in the right business, that was for sure. Still, it wasn’t legal. He took a step back, refusing to catch Daisy when he stumbled forward. Daisy might be a hot piece of delicate omega-ness, but he was also a wolf. He could stand on his own two feet.
“The point,” Quoitrel started again, “is that prostitution isn’t legal in North Leland, and I’m a representative of the law. If you open a bordello, I’ll have to shut it down. So how about we think of something else you could do with the property?”
Daisy pursed his lips into a pout. “This is what I’m good at.”
Quoitrel found himself nodding. Daisy would be very good at it. If Daisy were selling himself, Quoitrel could buy him and— No.
“Look, we can help. I thought the Eastern Pack was better than that, but if someone there forced you into this way of life—”
“Prostitution is illegal in the Eastern Pack too. That’s why I’m here. I’m not escaping from some alpha pimp who was mistreating me. I’m escaping from law enforcement. Like you.”
Quoitrel scratched the back of his neck. He kept his hair short because it felt more authoritative somehow—he got less hair in his mouth at any rate—but that meant his neck was always exposed to the elements. The sun was out strong today—not doing much to warm the air, but striking like a spotlight on the back of his neck. Or maybe that was just the way Daisy was getting under his skin.
“So maybe you could not be a shit and run me out of town, hmm?” Daisy raised one eyebrow, all erotic artifice dropping from him in the blink of an eye, leaving Quoitrel dizzy with how fast he’d shifted from the perfect fantasy of a hypersexual, obedient omega into one who could’ve been the poster child for all the changes North Leland had been making lately. Daisy had moved himself into town, registered for citizenship, acquired the use of a building, and hired a team of betas to refurbish it all within the space of a few days. His weakness was an act.
“I’m not trying to run you out of town.” That was the last thing he wanted to do. “I’m trying to help. We’ve got programs here. A hostel you can stay at. It’s a safe space for omegas, completely free. And there’s a job placement service. We’ll find something that suits your skills.”
“I know what suits my skills, handsome. I already gave you a peek at it, and don’t pretend it wasn’t working.”
Quoitrel cleared his throat. His dick was still hard, apparently not having gotten the message that Daisy was both too vulnerable to be approached sexually and also angry with him. “I obviously find you attractive. I imagine most alphas do.”
“Well now, that’s better. You can be charming when you want to be. We could be charming together if we weren’t fighting each other. Look, I was hoping for better from North Leland—that maybe I could just be left alone without having to pay anyone off, but I understand how the game is played. I’ve been playing it a long time.”
Quoitrel shook his head at that. “You can’t be much more than eighteen. Please tell me you weren’t forced into a life of prostitution as a child.” It was heartbreaking what some alphas were willing to do to suit their own selfish purposes. He regretted every time he’d given in to temptation and visited a place like this one. Omega ass was good, but having a clean conscience was better.
“I’m not a child, Sheriff. And I told you—no one forced me into anything. You really can’t imagine an omega enjoying himself doing sex work? Are you such a bad fuck?”
“I’m not a bad fuck,” Quoitrel growled before realizing what Daisy had baited him into saying. “Never mind. My sexual prowess—”
“Ooh, prowess. Be still my heart.” Daisy fanned himself with one hand, his fingernails a siren red that offset the gorgeous caramel of his skin. “The man has prowess.”
Little fucker. Baiting and teasing. Bribing and cajoling. Quoitrel understood what he was dealing with now—one of those omegas who used sex appeal to get his way. Well, it wasn’t going to work with him. He’d been charged with the protection of North Leland’s citizens, and Daisy was one of them now. Which meant Quoitrel was going to protect Daisy. Whether Daisy liked it or not.
Chapter 2
Quoitrel didn’t exactly burst into Angel’s office—he had more respect for authority than that—but he did enter in a state of obvious agitation.
Angel preferred to work out of the spare room in the modest house he shared with his husband, Leo, rather than the palace where his mother ruled as head alpha. He and Leo were the force behind a lot of the recent changes in North Leland and absolute goals as far as relationships went. If Quoitrel were being totally egalitarian about it, he wouldn’t care whether he mated with an omega or a beta. But his body knew what it wanted, and that was to someday claim an omega as strong and determined as Leo.
And then fuck him into unconsciousness on a regular basis. Quoitrel’s heart was egalitarian, but his body was all alpha.
“What’s gotten under your skin?” Angel asked when Quoitrel skidded to a stop before his desk.
“An omega.”
“Oh?” Angel lifted an eyebrow.
“Not like that.”
“Shame. I’m always surprised you haven’t found anyone yet.”
“I have plenty of time.” People assumed he was older than he was because of his hair, which was frosted grey at the tips thanks to the Central Pack half of his heritage. “And I’ve been busy. You know I take my work seriously.”
“Too seriously.” Angel waved at the chairs in front of his desk, imperiously commanding him to stop pacing and sit. Angel made a point of eschewing his title, but his royal upbringing came through in a million ways. Quoitrel sat. Following an order given by his superior settled his nerves, as opposed to feisty omegas who couldn’t decide whether they were victims or manipulators. Those got him riled up.
“So what’s going on with this omega?”
“He wants to open a bordello.”
“Here?” Angel’s voice went up a few registers. “An omega?”
&n
bsp; “Exactly.” He was glad Angel understood how exasperating the situation was.
“Is there someone pressuring him to do it?”
“He says no. He says it’s what he’s good at.” Which Quoitrel had been trying not to think about the entire walk over here. He’d plowed straight through the marketplace, past the Sheriff’s Office where one of his deputies had been lounging around out front doing absolutely nothing, and then along the narrowing streets that led to the northern forest, on the edge of which Angel lived in this two-bedroom bungalow decorated in typical barebones Northern Pack style with none of the gilt or stone of the palace.
“We can help him get good at something else,” Angel said.
“Exactly! He has the nerve to act like I’m bullying him by telling him he can’t sell himself.”
“So it’s himself he wants to sell?” The question came from behind Quoitrel. He turned to face the Western Pack omega leaning against the doorjamb. Leo looked like he’d been working out—sweaty with a towel hanging around his neck and no clothes on at all. Quoitrel was careful to keep his eyes above chest level.
“That’s what Daisy told me.”
“Daisy,” Angel repeated. “Daisy. Eastern Pack, right?” He rooted through some papers on his desk and came up with an immigration form. Quoitrel wasn’t surprised Angel remembered the name of a random omega immigrant. He had his fingers in everything, and he particularly cared about the omegas. Besides, who was going to forget a wolf named Daisy?
“That’s the one. He was working as a prostitute back home, apparently, and got shut down. Somehow he got the idea we’d let him do it here. I told him we outlawed prostitution.”
“Did we though?” Leo asked. “What we outlawed was procurement, if I recall correctly.”
“Well, you’re the one who wrote the law.” Angel smiled at his husband, the pride obvious. “Not sure I get the difference though.”
“Procurement is what the alphas were doing—selling an omega’s body for profit. If an omega is selling his own services—” Leo shrugged.
“That’s what Daisy said.” Quoitrel should’ve known the omega had a point. He was too sharp a little thing not to. “He said that if the Northern Pack grants him sovereignty over his body…”
“Then he’s got a right to sell it,” Angel finished. He rubbed a hand over his jaw. Quoitrel regretted bringing the issue to him. Angel dealt with so much. But apparently there were more implications to this question than he’d first considered. He imagined having to go back to Daisy and admit he’d been wrong and felt a burn of embarrassed pride in his stomach, but his cock was on board with anything that gave him a reason to go back and talk to Daisy at all.
“So what do we do?” Angel asked Leo. “Pass another law? We don’t want a new bordello. We went to a lot of trouble to get the old one shut down.”
“We definitely don’t want alphas taking advantage of omegas who are just looking for someone to keep them safe, but an omega-run bordello might be a different thing.” Leo walked around the desk to take a position behind Angel’s chair. He put his hands on Angel’s temples and Angel leaned his head back with a weary sigh.
“I don’t think I want any bordello.”
“Because you’ve got an omega who keeps you satisfied, Alpha.”
Angel’s mouth lifted in a lazy smirk of agreement. Quoitrel wondered if he ought to slide right on out of there while the two of them were engaged with each other. They were a pretty pair, Leo dark where Angel was light, both of them sturdily built, though Angel had the visible bulk of an alpha where Leo had the stringier muscles of an omega. Daisy was smoother and sleeker than Leo, and Quoitrel could only imagine that he’d be a wilder ride—easily tossed around and with the flexibility to assume any position.
“I wish everyone had someone like you,” Angel said to his husband, “but I can hardly force omegas into mating because some alphas are hard up.”
“No, of course not. But if you’ve got an omega who’s willing to fuck around with the ones who are hard up, why not let him? Not all the alphas who frequented the bordello were abusive in and of themselves. It was the circumstances behind the transactions that were abusive—the coercion and lies, the fact that the omegas never even got to keep the money they earned.”
Quoitrel wondered if Leo knew he was one of the alphas who’d occasionally hired a prostitute, who somehow hadn’t realized that the omegas who were all smiles while they were fucking him were being treated shamefully behind the scenes. Daisy had taunted him about being a lousy fuck, but he hoped that wasn’t true—hoped the orgasms he’d given his partners had been good and real and had compensated, at least briefly, for the sorrowful lives they’d lived.
“I’ll discuss it with Marta,” Angel said. “And I’d better bring you along to explain your reasoning, because I’m still not sure I understand it.”
“What’s to understand? It’s his body. It’s his right to do what he wants with it.”
“The trick is making sure this is really what he wants,” Quoitrel said. He couldn’t ignore the possibility that Daisy was lost and scared and needed to be fed and protected more than he needed to be fucked. Quoitrel would be willing to provide all those things himself: the food, the protection. The fucking. He’d been too focused on his career to find an omega up to this point, but Daisy could be it.
“You’d better come too,” Angel said as he got to his feet. “We’ll clarify the law with Marta, then you can go back to Daisy knowing you’ve got the full weight of her ruling behind you.”
Angel always referred to his mother as Marta—casually, without any honorific—but she was Head Alpha Marta to Quoitrel. He’d been in her presence plenty of times before, but he still found her intimidating. It wasn’t that she tried to be intimidating. It was more that she didn’t have to try. Her reputation and history spoke for itself.
She’d been unbeatable in her younger days and continued to rule now—despite a large faction of alphas who were antagonistic to the changes she’d been making—because no one was certain enough they could beat her still. Not even the crown prince himself, despite being bigger and having spent his whole life training to assume the throne. No amount of training made up for a lack of courage, as Leo always said when the question came up as to when Prince Devin would tire of waiting for his turn to rule and issue a challenge. At the rate they were going, the answer was never.
Quoitrel followed Leo and Angel to the palace, feeling like a third wheel because they were holding hands and because he was suddenly more interested in having an omega of his own than he’d ever been before. Maybe it was watching the two of them together, but more likely it was Daisy. Daisy had flipped a switch in him—like one of those fated mates things in the romance novels their omega librarian, JT, was always trying to get him to read.
If Quoitrel could convince Daisy to let him claim him, there’d be no need for Head Alpha Marta to make a ruling, but Angel said go, so they went, winding back through the same streets he’d plowed through earlier. The marketplace was busy. Everyone could smell snow in the air, and they were planning for it by buying extra groceries.
The snow had been light so far this winter, and some people were looking forward to spending a night cozied up with their mate, enjoying the quiet of a fresh snowfall, but Quoitrel didn’t have a mate to snuggle in front of his fire with. He had an apartment at the back of the Sheriff’s Office—two lonely rooms, unfurnished beyond the necessities. If he had an omega like Daisy, he’d load the place up with rugs and pillows and whatever furniture his mate wanted so the two of them could fuck over every piece of it.
Quoitrel palmed the front of his breeches where his cock was making an obvious lump. The soft material cradled him in a flattering way when he was soft or chubby, but it sure didn’t hide anything when he was full-on hard. He needed to stop thinking about sex so much before things got out of hand. He was about to appear before the head alpha, for moon’s sake.
She was in her personal apartmen
t, not her throne room, which made the appearance less intimidating. The throne room was big and cold and empty so that supplicants had to stand in front of her like quaking children, but her personal apartment was a much more pleasant space. Since she’d claimed an omega herself, it’d become even more pleasant—very den-like and cozy, with lots of color and soft surfaces.
Enid opened the door for them. She greeted Leo and Angel with cheek kisses then disappeared to fetch tea, even though no one had asked for it. Enid was as sweet as omegas came, and she lent a warmth to Head Alpha Marta’s personality that wasn’t there when she sat on the throne.
“Angel.” Marta turned up her cheek, and Angel dutifully crossed over to kiss it. “I’m glad you dropped by. I got an envoy from the Western Pack today with a direct message from Head Alpha Harrod himself.”
“Another one?” Angel seated himself next to his husband on one of the couches arranged around the room. “We already told him we don’t know where Owen is. I’m not sure what he hopes to accomplish.”
“He’s evaluating how much support Your Excellency has,” Quoitrel suggested as he took a tentative spot on the opposite couch. Sitting in Head Alpha Marta’s presence always made him nervous, like he was being disrespectful. “His ministers are using their time here to meet with certain discontents while they pretend to seek information about Owen’s whereabouts.”
“By discontents, I assume you mean Devin,” she said, cutting straight through the bullshit as she always did. “But if Harrod is so angry about what happened to his son, why team up with the one wolf who’s to blame for it?”
“Because he thinks that once Prince Devin assumes the title, he’ll have an easy path to our throne. No offense,” he added.
Marta waved off his disclaimer. “We all know Devin’s reputation for avoiding a fight, but it doesn’t mean he can’t fight. I assure you, he can.”
“That’s what I keep reminding Angel of,” Leo said. “Devin’s a coward, but he’s a big, strong one with all the skills. Corner a coward, and he’ll fight—all the more fiercely for his cowardice, and all the less fairly, if he can get away with it.”