Omega Reimagined volume 2

by Tanya Chris

  “Too jealous to deal with it? But you said you weren’t going to…”

  “I won’t be taking anyone upstairs, but I’m going to put on a little demonstration, shall we say? A marketing gimmick—one free blowjob as a door prize. Winner chosen at random.”

  “Demonstration,” Quoitrel repeated numbly. “You mean in public?”

  “Right there in the throne room. On the throne, in fact. Head alpha for the night. It was a good slogan, honestly. I’m not using it, because I don’t want to strengthen the association with how things used to be, but that’s the feeling I’m going for. Whether it’s a baby alpha fucking his first omega, a senior alpha too slow to chase anyone down, or a beta who wants to live like a king. Whoever they are, they’re my head alpha. For an hour, anyway.”

  Daisy made Quoitrel feel like that—like he was everything. Potent and strong with a giant knot and the skills to use it. He understood why people would pay for it.

  “Right in front of everyone though?”

  “You don’t have to watch.” Daisy stopped in the middle of the semi-cleared lane they’d been walking down and pulled Quoitrel around to face him. His eyes gleamed wet, and there was a look of concern on his face that Quoitrel wanted to lick off. “In fact, maybe you shouldn’t.”

  “Okay.” He leaned in, distracted by all the negative pheromones pouring off Daisy, unable to hear his words because of how clearly his emotions were coming through. “Don’t worry, little one. I’m going to keep you safe.”

  “I’m not worried about being safe.”

  “Then what?” He gave in to temptation and laid a long lick up the side of Daisy’s neck. It made Daisy giggle, which was much better than that anxious face.

  “I don’t want you to stop liking me, that’s all.”

  “I’m not ever going to stop liking you.” He licked up the other side of Daisy’s neck, coating him in his scent.

  “I’m not just talking about sex,” Daisy protested. “Be serious for a minute.” He caught Quoitrel’s face between his palms and held it still. “I’m afraid you’ll think less of me. It shouldn’t matter, because I do what I do and I am what I am and you knew all that before we even started, but I like you. I like what we have going on.”

  The words got through this time, mostly because they were so unexpected. Daisy liked him. Quoitrel’s nose lifted gleefully to the moon, and he gave a wild howl of joy. Daisy liked him. He howled again, telling the whole town about it, and from somewhere down the darkened street a howl came back, then another, as his friends and neighbors joined in on a song about how good it was to be a wolf.

  Daisy laughed, eyes sparkling with something other than tears now. “I don’t know what that means,” he said.

  “It means I like you too. When I said I wouldn’t stop liking you, I meant it. Not even if you give a hundred blowjobs tomorrow night.”

  The truth was that he had no idea how his wolf was going to react when Daisy’s profession became an unavoidable fact rather than a theoretical future. He’d never been in a position to experience jealousy before, and he knew the emotion could be really powerful, but he was positive he wouldn’t stop liking Daisy. Even if he wanted to kill whichever lucky wolf got that blowjob.

  “If it bothers me too much to watch, I’ll turn my back.” He would count the tiles that made up the wall or recite the pledge he’d taken as a Northern Pack law enforcement officer—whatever he had to do to avoid acting out his feelings. He was a native of the Central Pack. He’d been raised to grant omegas full autonomy. He could do it.

  Chapter 7

  Quoitrel arrived at the brothel well before the advertised starting time, but already a handful of alphas were milling around the base of the steps. On either side of the steps, a bonfire had been lit. The fires crackled and roared, sending flames halfway up the height of the two story building. The heavy iron door had been decorated with pine boughs, and the bars guarding the windows were twined with fluttering ribbons.

  Quoitrel took a place at the top of the steps, right in front of the door in case anyone had the idea of rushing it. He knew it was solid, not something they’d be able to break through, but there was no sense starting off with a mob mentality. He recognized most of the wolves already present because he’d had run-ins with them at some point. They were the sort who would grab an unguarded omega and then act like it was impossible to do otherwise, as if alphas weren’t capable of resisting an omega’s ass, even though they managed to resist it just fine when they knew the omega in question had been claimed by another alpha.

  As the crowd kept getting bigger, Quoitrel was happy to see some less toxic alphas join it, including some who’d been publicly insisting that Head Alpha Marta ought to shut the place down. He made a point of waving to Gillis, who was mated to a female omega in addition to being an outspoken opponent, and Gillis had the decency to look embarrassed for a moment before coming over to try to brazen it out.

  “Thought I should keep an eye on the place.”

  “I’ve got it covered, thanks.”

  “Seems like you ought to be arresting the prostitute, not guarding him, but I guess we know what you’re getting out of it. He’s a looker, all right.”

  “And you came to look at him?”

  “I was afraid there might be trouble. Got a bad crew here.”

  “Uh huh.” Quoitrel gave Gillis a once-over to suggest that he was part of the bad crew. He’d always found Gillis to be a pretty decent sort, but he was acting like a fucking hypocrite now. He hadn’t come down to keep his eyes on anything except Daisy. “Well, like I said, I got it in hand. So you don’t have to besmirch your reputation by sticking around.”

  “This is going to end badly,” Gillis warned before removing himself from the area. “Mark my words.”

  Quoitrel hoped he was wrong. The crowd had filled out to the point where it seemed like half the alphas in North Leland were there, not to mention a decent smattering of betas and even a handful of omegas, all huddled together for safety. Potential customers or potential employees?

  Quoitrel couldn’t tell, but the omegas had decked themselves out like they were trying to make a good impression, and they were definitely making one on the surrounding alphas.

  He kept an eye on them, wishing he’d arranged for backup. He hadn’t expect the crowd to be so big or so mixed. Seemed that despite what people said to each other in the brightness of market square, they were all curious enough to come out and catch a peep.

  Finally the door at Quoitrel’s back opened. The crowd took a collective breath, but there was only a beta behind it, dressed in a brilliant green pantsuit with light blond hair shiny around his shoulders. He threw the door open wide, revealing the high gleam of hundreds of white stone tiles illuminated by blazing wall sconces.

  Quoitrel had seen the refurbished room before, but only by the realistic light of day. Now it was like something out of a human fairy tale. And at the far end of the room sat the most fantastically beautiful thing of all: Daisy. He was enthroned. Literally. The ornate gold work of the mock throne framed the golden tones of his skin and hair, as if he’d been born to sit there.

  His hair was up, twined with precious stones in an elaborate cascade of wonderment, and his skin sparkled like sand in the sun, glimmering with a hundred highlights. He wore lacy gloves that went all the way past his elbows, and his feet were encased in delicate high-heeled shoes fastened by straps that wound up his calves. His cock lay thick between his legs, suggesting a state of semi-arousal, and his nipples peeped out pinkish brown and brilliantly hard through a pair of rhinestone starbursts.

  Quoitrel was stunned into stillness, momentarily blocking the stream of wolves trying to get through the door. He closed his mouth and moved out of the way, evaluating the room for trouble spots. Betas circled the floor with trays of glasses and dishes of delicacies, all of them dressed from head to toe in those green pantsuits that were a direct contrast to Daisy’s stunning nudity.

  No one approache
d the throne, but they all watched it, stealing glances at the perfect beauty gracing their presence. Quoitrel took a position near the doorway to the kitchen where he could see most of the room. He was as far from Daisy as he could get, but he could still smell him plain as day. They’d spent so much time together over the last week that Daisy’s scent was burned into his nostrils—the scent of his arousal, particularly. Daisy’s plump cock wasn’t lying. He was enjoying this.

  Quoitrel wasn’t the only alpha picking up on the hint of slick in the air. Noses lifted in appreciation as excitement filled the room. The huddle of omegas who’d taken a position not far from Quoitrel were getting slick too. Daisy really knew how to churn people up.

  When he rose, the room went immediately quiet. “Welcome to Daisy’s House of Delights,” he said in his sultry voice, the one that got Quoitrel hard in an instant. A quick glance around the room showed he wasn’t alone in that.

  “Thank you all for… coming.” The pause on coming was exactly long enough to get a laugh. “I won’t be taking customers tonight.” That was greeted with a groan. “But I will be putting on a show. One very lucky… gentleman”—his pause on the word gentleman drew another laugh—“will have the pleasure of using my mouth this evening. Right there.” He pointed at the throne behind him.

  “Me!” yelled a young alpha in the crowd. He waved his hand over his head with abandon. “Pick me.”

  “I might,” Daisy said with a smile that had whatever cocks might still have been soft leaping to attention. “But I’m not actually taking volunteers. My staff will be handing out tickets, one per customer. Hang onto your ticket, and you might be hanging onto those armrests while I give you the blowjob of your life.”

  With that, Daisy stepped down from the dais and began to mingle. Quoitrel soon lost sight of him thanks to his diminutive stature, but he could follow his general movement around the room by the congregation of people surrounding him. The scrum would’ve been worse except that one of the betas began handing out tickets, drawing attention in her direction.

  Quoitrel was pretty sure some wolves were taking more than one ticket, but Daisy had probably anticipated that. Enthusiasm would be rewarded, not that Quoitrel could imagine anyone being less than enthusiastic about having those plump lips surrounding his cock. He widened his stance to give his own cock some air as he continued to scan the room, listening for pockets of discontent, keeping watch for the muscle inflation that could signal impending aggression, sniffing the air to sort through the mélange of pheromones on the lookout for anything more acrid than arousal.

  Daisy had made it over to the huddle of omegas. He shooed away the group of larger wolves following him, and they actually obeyed, hovering in the vicinity but not intruding. Even amongst omegas, and even in those spiked heels, Daisy’s figure was short and slight. Quoitrel strained to see him, catching nothing more than the tower of his hair or an elegantly fluttering hand, but the merry tinkle of his laugh carried.

  He was enjoying preening for the crowd, and Quoitrel liked seeing him admired. He still didn’t know how he was going to react to watching Daisy engage in an actual sex act with another wolf, but thus far he felt only pride. That was his omega. Well, not technically his, but Quoitrel had been the first wolf in North Leland to have him. And for free too. They had a bond that while not as deep as a mating bond nevertheless went beyond a business transaction. This was Daisy’s job, and he did it well, but what he did with Quoitrel was something different.

  While Quoitrel was trying to figure out exactly how it was different, a commotion by the door caught his attention. The room grew gradually quieter until only Daisy’s laugh rang through it, and the crowd seemed to separate of its own accord to form a runway between Daisy and the man who’d just entered.

  Prince Devin. Of course. The diversity of wolves attending Daisy’s grand opening had almost assuaged Quoitrel’s concerns about what sort of customers the brothel would attract, but there at the door was the perfect specimen of the worst possibility. Prince Devin wore his royal robes, as usual. He was the only member of the royal family to wear them outside the palace, and he wore them habitually. Granted, Quoitrel might too if he looked as good in a cape as Devin did.

  The floor length red velvet robe trimmed in purple fur framed his muscular, naked body and set off the light blond of his shiny, shoulder-length hair. His scent overpowered the room. There could be no doubt they were in the presence of a large and important alpha. Lesser wolves skittered away as he strode across the floor straight for Daisy.

  Having Prince Devin as a patron would grant Daisy some insurance in the dreaded event of him succeeding his mother, but Quoitrel hated watching Daisy bow to him. Daisy did it gracefully, dipping down in a move suggestive of the classic present posture. Every wolf in the room was no doubt imagining having Daisy bow to him in exactly that way.

  “You grace us with your presence,” Daisy said as he rose. “Please take a ticket, Your Excellency. Take two, even.”

  The beta with the basket extended it tremulously, and Prince Devin dipped into it with a questioning glance.

  “You’ve arrived just in time for the raffle,” Daisy explained to him. “One lucky customer is about to get a blowjob. Perhaps it’ll be you.” He winked saucily at the prince and walked away, gliding like sled runners over snow, silent and swift. He mounted the dais and called for the room’s attention.

  “Now I’ll select our winner.”

  “You’ll select me.” Devin tossed away the tickets he’d taken and pushed his way to the front of the crowd surrounding the steps.

  “Oh, but we don’t know who I’ll select,” Daisy said. “That’s the fun of it.” He gave the crowd an innocently devilish look and reached into the basket to pull out a ticket. “1-0-3-2,” he read. “Who has 1-0-3-2?”

  “Me! It’s me! Oh my stars, I can’t believe I won.”

  In a fun twist, it was the young alpha who’d tried to volunteer earlier. A grumbling murmur filled the room as he made his way eagerly to the dais, but it was good-natured until Devin grabbed the young alpha by the wrist and flung him back into the crowd. Devin climbed the stairs himself.

  “I said you’ll select me.” He towered over Daisy, seemingly twice his height, definitely twice his bulk. His expression screamed menace.

  This was exactly what Quoitrel had feared—that someone like Devin would try to force Daisy to service him. Daisy deciding for himself was one thing. Devin deciding for him was rape. And rape was illegal, even if you were the crown prince, which meant it was Quoitrel’s job as sheriff to intervene. He strode for the platform. Quite possibly he was about to die. Almost certainly, his career was over. And for all that, he didn’t even know if his chances of saving Daisy from being raped were all that good, but he had to try.

  “Your Excellency,” Daisy said before Quoitrel had made it very far. “It would be such a shame if I wasn’t able to admit you to my establishment in the future.”

  “I’d like to see you keep me out of it.”

  “But I’d have to,” Daisy said with an adorable pout. “My rules are so strict. I couldn’t make an exception, not even for an alpha as magnificent as yourself. But of course, you can’t have known my rules yet, so I excuse you.” He beamed up at Devin as if he knew Devin would be pleased to be forgiven, then took a step away from him to address the crowd at large.

  “I will permanently ban anyone who tries to force or coerce me or my workers into an unwanted sex act, as much as I would hate to miss the opportunity to serve each and every one of you. Especially you, my darling prince.” He threw Devin a flirtatious smile over his shoulder. “So we’re all going to wait our turn like the civilized wolves we are. And that includes you, big boy.” He took Devin’s arm and escorted him down the stairs as if seeing him out after a pleasant encounter.

  “Now, be good for me.” The admonishment was accompanied by an expression that suggested Daisy would sulk if he didn’t get his way. Quoitrel didn’t see how any alpha could
resist it, and Prince Devin didn’t manage to. He allowed himself to be nestled back into the crowd and left standing there while Daisy fetched the alpha with the winning ticket and escorted him up the stairs as ceremoniously as he’d escorted Devin down.

  Quoitrel didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed at finding himself not needed after all. Mostly, he was impressed.

  Chapter 8

  Now that the young alpha was on the dais and the subject of rapt attention, he’d lost a little of his bravado. Quoitrel wondered if this would be his first sexual encounter with anything other than his own hand, because he looked simultaneously excited and terrified. His cock stood straight out from his body, which was naked except for a baseball hat jammed down over his blond curls. Kids today with their baseball hats. As if wolves gave a damn about baseball. Quoitrel shook his head.

  “What’s your name?” Daisy asked him.

  “Hal.”

  “Well, Hal, you’re about to get a blowjob in front of all these people. How do you feel about that?”

  Hal’s enthusiastic “Good!” had the crowd laughing, dispelling some of the tension that lingered from Prince Devin’s aggression.

  “Aren’t you precious? Come sit right here, you gorgeous alpha. You make yourself nice and comfortable and let omega take care of you.”

  Hal applied his ass to the throne with alacrity. He spread his legs, and his cock sprang forward, earning another laugh. The negative atmosphere dissipated as everyone enjoyed the show Daisy was putting on.

  “I’m wearing my hair up so you’ll be able to watch your cock disappear down my throat, but you know what? I think everyone wants to watch that. What do you say?” he appealed to the crowd. “Should we turn this throne around to give you a better view?”

  The crowd cheered as a stream of betas walked up to the dais and lifted the throne—with Hal in it—to rotate it ninety degrees so he was in profile to them.