The mating season had come again.
Each year, the royal family hosted a grand ball beneath the full moon of autumn, an opulent gathering of noble Alphas and Omegas. Its purpose was simple: to help them find their destined mates and preserve their bloodlines within the aristocracy.
The grand ballroom shimmered with vibrant life, filled to the brim with elegance and restless anticipation. Candlelight danced like living spirits to the swell of symphonic music echoing through the vast hall.
Every corner overflowed with the intoxicating aroma of rare blossoms, though even the most fragrant florals were drowned beneath the thick, heady tide of Alpha and Omega pheromones.
Everyone was dressed in their most splendid finery, each subtly or overtly releasing their most alluring scent, hoping to attract, to claim, to be claimed.
Laughter rang out, bright and flirtatious, mixing with the unseen mists of pheromones that saturated the air.
Lucian alone found no comfort in the sensual haze. While he wasn't affected like most by pheromonal allure, the clashing scents en masse grated against his senses more than he'd care to admit.
Still, he remained composed, every inch the prince he was bred to be. Seated at a banquet table among fellow Alphas, he conversed politely, smiling when necessary, listening idly as they gossiped about the Omegas in the hall.
His skin bore the golden hue of sun and sword, tempered through years of relentless training. Raven-black hair cascaded lazily across a high forehead, framing sharp, unreadable stormy-blue eyes. Occasionally, one thick brow would lift, mildly amused, faintly displeased.
He wore an ivory-white ceremonial suit, its golden embroidery glimmering with regal elegance.
Though he sat still, his presence rippled outward like gravity. Even his smallest movements seemed to unnerve those around him.
For Lucian was a Pureblood Alpha.
Raised from birth to believe he was nature's pinnacle, he had never needed a mate, only a partner to continue his lineage. Reverence followed him like a shadow, from Omegas and even other Alphas. He was the strongest. The Mating Ball held no particular meaning for him.
In this world ruled by Alphas, Omegas were little more than breeding vessels, tools for legacy, not love. No one truly regarded them as equals. The bond called "mate" was a mere romantic veil over what was essentially a transaction.
Lucian's gaze wandered across the glittering hall. Alphas flaunted their pheromones. Omegas released scent after scent like sirens in heat. Some pairs had already found resonance, slipping hurriedly out of the room, or disappearing into shadowed alcoves, unable to wait. But no one paid them any mind. Love was a luxury far too rare for this place.
Even if Lucian found his mate tonight, it would not surprise him. A sweet noble Omega, obedient and pliant, ready to submit without question.
He was a prince. The strongest Alpha.
All he needed to do was sit and wait, they would come to him, whether fate intended it or not.
"What about the viscount's Omega, Lucian?"
The voice belonged to Thomas, son of a marquess and a friend from youth, snapping Lucian out of his thoughts.
He followed the direction of Thomas's gesture and spotted a lovely young woman with copper-red hair cascading over porcelain skin. She met his eyes and fluttered her lashes shyly. Her scent, however, surged stronger, too strong.
Lucian's lips curled into a dry smirk. A perfect example.
"Not bad," he replied, before turning his gaze back to his glass.
She had a title, yes. But she was not his mate. The stillness of his heart confirmed it.
Lifting his wineglass, he took a slow sip of the burning liquor, while mentally noting a few Omegas he might entertain later, if only to stave off the boredom of this tiresome evening.
Then it hit him.
A wisp of jasmine brushed his senses—light, elusive, delicate—and his heart skipped a beat.
And with it, a sudden, searing heat, like fire licking his skin from the inside out. His breath, once steady, turned ragged, his instincts howling for him to find and claim.
His body betrayed him.
Lucian, who had never been easily affected by pheromones, now felt his nerves tighten like bowstrings. His muscles tensed beneath layers of silk and gold.
The jasmine did not invade like the others, it coiled, wrapping itself around his reason like velvet chains.
Each breath he drew wove the scent deeper into his very cells, scorching his throat like sandpaper laced with fire.
Lucian knew exactly what this meant.
His mate was here.
He clenched his jaw, a guttural growl slipping between gritted teeth as he wrestling down the storm of instinct rising inside him.
Even that soft growl cleaved the air like a blade, silencing those near him.
"Lucian, could it be…?"
Thomas was stunned—half in disbelief, half in thrill—eager to witness his friend undone.
But Lucian merely offered a cool, dismissive smile, as though the pull meant little. He ignored the blazing urge to find his mate and claim them, sipping his wine instead, not even attempting to follow the scent.
He was waiting, for his prey to come to him.
Thomas chuckled, leaning back with a smirk of his own. "Well then… let's see who's lucky enough to be your mate."
A beautiful, obedient Omega. Of course. That was how the world worked. A ruler must have someone to kneel.
Lucian waited, unhurried.
But the ball went on.
And his mate… did not come.
Something was wrong.
His fingers tightened around the wineglass until a crack spidered across its surface. Veins bulged along his forearm, muscles flexing beneath fine silk. The ache in his chest grew louder, howling for what he had yet to touch.
Still, a sly grin played at the corners of his lips.
This was no ordinary dance. It was a hunt.
Who dared defy him?
A thrill sparked in his eyes.
Lucian closed his eyes, tuning out the noise, following the elusive trail of jasmine.
Subtle. Faint. Nearly masked beneath the sea of other pheromones. Yet unmistakable to him.
His mate was suppressing their scent. Hiding. Or using inhibitors?
An Omega in hiding? Now that was intriguing.
He set the broken glass down and rose.
His Alpha companions looked up in surprise.
"What is it?" Thomas asked, unable to contain his curiosity.
Lucian smirked, eyes burning with a fire of both irritation and exhilaration.
"It seems," he said coolly, "my mate is not the obedient kind."
Leaving that cryptic remark behind, Lucian strode into the crowd.
The jasmine drifted toward him—light, mocking, persistent. It danced just at the edge of his senses, like silk brushing skin, slipping through every defense.
The deeper he ventured, the stronger it became.
He was close now.
At last, his obsidian gaze landed on a figure with a proud, upright back. A girl whose very posture rejected submission. Candlelight flickered against her tousled chestnut hair—defiant and untamed.
Only a partial glimpse, one high-bridged, elegant nose, one emerald eye glittering with cool clarity, and Lucian's breath caught in his throat.
She wasn't alluring in the traditional Omega sense. Nor did she radiate the raw dominance of an Alpha.
She was a paradox.
Equal parts siren and sovereign.
She wore a gown as black as midnight, overlaid with sheer green silk that echoed her eyes. Black lace and glittering stones traced her silhouette like shadows in moonlight. Ruffled sleeves bloomed like proud petals. Her corset cinched her waist into a cruel curve, dangerous and divine.
She stood among Alphas as though unaware of the invisible thread now binding her to Lucian's soul.
And in that moment, instinct devoured reason.
His blood roared. His body trembled. Every fiber of him demanded he lunge and sink his teeth into her pale, unclaimed throat.
Lucian faltered.
Torn between what he was and what he felt.
This was his mate.
The daughter of Duke Ashbourne.
And she was an Alpha.
***