(Thane)
Thane knew better than to think his mother would leave well enough alone. The glint in her eyes always betrayed her schemes. So when a knock came at his chamber door, he already knew.
"I assume," Thane said dryly as Jubal stepped in, "you're about to tell me of some errand that suddenly requires your presence at the marketplace?"
Jubal chuckled, unrepentant. "You know your mother. She does what she thinks is best."
"She interferes too much," Thane muttered.
"She isn't wrong," Jubal countered. "You need an Empress—or at least a presence in your harem. You're a man in his prime, my friend. Too much stress without… release isn't good for you."
Thane leaned back, unimpressed. "That is not my harem, Jubal. Those were my father's women. Trifling with them once was harmless. Now they expect something of me, and I will not have it. I've no taste for women who only do what they think will please me."
Before Jubal could argue further, Thane's gaze snagged on a sealed envelope on his desk. He slit it open, reading aloud:
You are cordially invited to Vlallas Square Market for the reveal of a lifetime. Never has an exotic like this been up for auction. An Omega. A Virgin. Bring your chips in plenty. Bidding starts at 500,000.—Sisisky, The Slave Trader
Thane's brows lifted. "Have you heard of this?"
Jubal inclined his head. "Rumors. I didn't credit them—slave traders exaggerate to draw a crowd."
"This is no ordinary boast." Thane's voice hardened. "If word spreads, every Alpha Lord within reach will descend on the market. And when too many Alphas gather—"
"We both remember the last time," Jubal said quietly.
"Indeed." Thane folded the letter. "Ready the Kriptons. We'll attend the auction."
"Of course, Your Highness."
Left alone, Thane considered the implications. Omegas had not surfaced in a decade. Legends claimed they had been bred out, their fragility consumed by Alpha ruts. But to possess one—a fertile, rare creature capable of producing heirs of unimaginable strength—would be to secure a legacy. The thought made his pulse quicken despite himself.
Vlallas Square Market buzzed like a hive. Normally the Emperor did not soil himself with its spectacle, but today Thane dressed plainly—white silk shirt, tan riding trousers, boots marked only by the Rysling crest. Beside him, Jubal cut a darker figure.
A sea of bodies pressed against the auction block. Thane and Jubal stayed mounted on their Kriptons for the higher vantage. He scanned the crowd—yes, the Alpha Lords were here, all of them. Their presence thickened the air with tension, curiosity masking the undercurrent of violence.
Then Sisisky appeared, robed and smug, Draco hulking at his side. Thane's lips thinned. He had seen the man's cruelty before, watched him treat women as chattel. Tradition gave him cover. It was one of many stains Thane swore to erase—eventually.
"My Lords!" Sisisky's voice carried across the square. "Today, I offer treasures from across the stars. Twelve beauties, each awaiting a new owner. And as promised—one rare Omega."
The crowd erupted in hungry howls. Sisisky only smiled wider. "She is feisty, untouched, and will be most rewarding to break."
Thane's jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Not yet.
The doors opened.
One by one, the women were led out, bound by leather cords. They walked naked through the gauntlet of stares, heads high despite the humiliation. Thane watched them with a heavy heart. They were beautiful—exotic, striking—but no different than the women already in his father's harem.
Until the last girl.
She was smaller, shorter, but her form was all curves and taut strength. Sun-gold curls spilled down her back like a halo. Her skin was kissed by light, not porcelain-pale like the others. Her lips—lush, almost defiant—drew his gaze. And her eyes…
For a moment, he thought it a trick of the sun. Two different colors. Impossible. Yet he could not look away.
An Omega.
Thane's pulse thundered. He forced himself to wait, to see her on the block, before he decided anything. But in the pit of his chest, instinct already whispered the truth.