Rue
If someone had told Rue that she'd be a claimed Omega, she would've laughed. Probably would have thrown in a couple of sassy expletives and a finger in the air for emphasis. And if they'd said that Dante of all fucking people would be the one to bite her, and that Valentino would be the Alpha that she'd bite back? She'd have gone really quiet, and then said something absolutely foul about Alphas and their complexes.
Blistering white panic would have consumed her.
Rue would have kicked herself, knowing immediately that it must be her fault. Her fault that she was claimed. Her goddamn mistake. Her stupid fucking Omega. Her idiotic heart.
Dante did not hate her, but he did not love her either.
And so, to admit to the massive fucking crush she had on the Seirios pack would be like submitting to a certain unforeseen death. It would be like choosing bad boys just because of lust. It would be a red flag sort of idiocy.
Claiming was like losing. That was how Mama had put it with a smug laugh and a taunt on her tongue. But it was inevitable. If Rue had wanted to stay safe, she should have kept a low profile and acted dumb. But Rue had allowed her tongue to wag, her pride to soar. She stepped on tails, acting like a dumbass for coin. There were too many things Rue should not have done.
Hindsight was a bitch.
And the moment Rue had caught the eyes of powerful individuals, she should have allowed herself to be claimed by those stinking rich Alphas. She should have bowed down like a glorified whore because all men were shit, but at least they had money.
And at the very least, Rue had to hold on to that money. After all, it was her fault that she was leashed into the situation. It was all her fault that things were this bad. She should roll in her grave and play dead fish on the coldest marital bed.
Rue had never wanted this, had never even dreamt of this. A claimed life was unappealing for an Omega. Back home it meant eight kids, an inconsistent bladder from a bad birth and an Alpha that would never be home unless he wanted to drink or fuck her. Growing up on 69, where the air was fucked and fumes chewed her goddamn lungs, good dreams did not exist. A pretty life did not exist.
Claimed meant piss on the floor and exhaustion in her bones.
Claimed meant loss.
And for the Claimed on planets where the Alpha Omega bonding was barbaric?
God, Rue did not know what to expect.
And then came the planet Five.
Five was wrong. Too right, too pretty, like biting into fruit so sweet it made her gum ache. The kind of pretty she could have never known on 69. The kind of beautiful that had the pink of a PG rating. The kind of gorgeous that Rue didn't belong in.
A fucking plethora of feel-good drugs was what she'd call it.
It was beautiful in a way that made her chest feel too tight. The sky was lavender and blush, had a dozen suns that hung like pearls over syrupy cotton candy gauze. And the air seemed to shimmer with some kind of glittery ash.
Valentino called it pollen. The byproduct of a tree that produced the fluffiest flowers she'd ever seen in her life. But Rue called it fairy dust, maybe even magic. She bit back that word every time, but it sat on the tip of her tongue like the taste of sugar.
Because his planet was magic.
The streets were like a fever dream. Paper lanterns in the sky. Shiny buildings painted in lacquered gold and red. Crystal bonsai sagging over rows of street stalls. And then the veil that hovered over their heads like she'd lost her goddamn mind. Valentino said it was a river, had casually waved his hands like it meant nothing. But rivers did not defy fucking gravity. It did not float in the sky. And his river had the fattest, most expensive-looking fish she'd ever seen, swimming in the air like the clouds had dreams.
And the people.
They all seemed to have stepped right off a magazine; each had amazing fashion styles and godly hair. But it was their tails that had her staring—gorgeous whisps in gentle tints. But Rue liked that Valentino's was the deepest shade of blue-green. That his turquoise stood out like a diamond amongst the sweet pastels, shining brightly in the pinks and the blues.
Five was clean, maintained, and too well-structured.
And no one stared. They did not treat them any differently, despite Valentino, their fucking emperor-to-be, lounging in a cafe with chocolate squares in one hand and a cup of satin cream that he'd declared local. The waiter didn't even blink when Valentino kissed her cheek like it meant something.
There were no Omegas on the streets.
Just her.
Dystopia in utopia.
It was awfully, painfully, choreographed. The situation was too scripted, the loop too clean, and she was obviously the smear of rust on a silver spoon. It was going too well, and Rue knew he was doing all this for her. He must have paid them off, must have scripted the entire shit.
They should be rioting.
They sat in a cafe stitched to the edge of a waterfall that had petals drifting in the splash as if on cue. Valentino was dressed as gorgeously as usual, in a loose linen shirt embroidered with gold, sunglasses perched on his nose. He had her in the same shirt like a couple's wear, had grinned too damn happily when she'd stepped out, clothed like his twin, with joy plastered over his glowing face. His smile was always so dangerously obscene, but he was being sweet.
Nice.
Her Omega adored his hugs, the way he scooped her into his chest as if he wanted to absorb her into his skin. His chin on the crook of her shoulder, lips in her hair. His nose was dragging the scent of her deep into his lungs. It was the kind of hug that made her feel safe. And that had her tasting her lips, nervous.
She never had those hugs before, never in her entire life. And she'd woken to that hug with his big arms all around her. He burned the ache in her neck, replaced it with the sweet, sweet purr of her Omega happy to have her Alpha pressed up close. And he smelled lovely, like musk, like good coffee, like warm honey, and like loving Alpha.
Fuck, her tongue itched for smoke now, for the ghastly blows of sickly cheap perfume. For her home that was shit, and so not clean. For the stink of familiarity. This was different. And she didn't know if she liked it or not.
"You're dissociating," Valentino said, popping a square into her mouth. His eyes were beautiful, just as creamy as the chocolate, with the flash of a liquid void. The square melted, soft like velvet and tasting like silk. It was nothing like the chalk she was used to on 69. His thumb lingered on her bottom lip. She secretly loved it. "Is the pollen too much for you?"
"This world makes me feel like I'm on drugs," she muttered, chewed and swallowed. "It makes me feel like my problems are not problems. Like I'm not supposed to think."
"Good," Valentino said with not an ounce of hesitation, voice all velvety drawl, like sunshine and buttercups. "I want you to think of nothing but me and have the best time." His grin stretched like warming butter on toast, all soft, all golden, all silky. There was a part of her that twitched, identifying the buttery churn of too much thickness in his smile.
Sceptical Rue remained, but she noted how easily his smile stirred up something warm in her chest. The bond. "Please don't tell me the pollen does something to my brain."
"It does not," Valentino chuckled. "Five can be a lot more mesmerising for someone new. The reverence distracts visitors not used to its beauty."
"Of course," Rue groaned. "Of course it's so beautiful that it makes my brain struggle to fit it all in."
Valentino seemed to ripple, reclining casually and looking like carved sex. He was always the picture-perfect idol. "I assumed you'd be used to it with my good looks always in your face. I'm practically the manifestation of Five."
"I'd call it fermentation."
"Fermented food tastes amazing."
"I spent a good chunk of my life deleting your face out of my brain."
His pout was scandalous. The clown groaned. "But I'm so beautiful, you must have dreamt about me."
"I dreamt about you acing your exams and leaving my life," she said dramatically, "but your ass sucked."
"I was better than the oafs you had for students."
"At least they tried."
"It was on purpose," he admitted casually. "I failed on purpose. I did not want the tuition with you to end."
"You blew your dads' money." Rue blew out a breath then, and she watched as the bastard smirked, unperturbed by her words. "Did I even do my job?"
"You were good," he told her. "So good. I was just a bad student who was in love with his tutor." The flush grew on her cheeks as his boxy smile only spread, lips all plump and glossy. There was no use telling him all that shit. She'd bitten him, claimed him. They were mates, and that was truly how she felt about him.
"I know you were failing on purpose," she said, flush on her cheeks. The drip of thoughts she had never entertained. "I never stopped you because I wanted your cash."
"And you wanted to see my face."
She went quiet at that, rolling her eyes, but he giggled, laughter bubbling velvety from his tongue. The grin he returned to her was too radiant for her eyes. "I waited so long," he whispered. "You don't know how happy I feel, how fulfilled, how complete. My Alpha has never felt better. I wish it had happened sooner."
Sooner.
Rue had never wanted this day to come.
Valentino did not understand what this meant for Rue.
Her fingers itched then for something to hold, fingers scratching at the tender bandage over her neck. It stung, unearthed a small rush of awful thoughts. A reminder.
Rue was Omega.
There were no Omegas here.
Her words were pinched. "Hey, don't you think it's a little too quiet?"
"Quiet?" He tilted his head, raised a brow. Things felt too good, too peaceful. She was used to the boys springing up on her. And with the clusterfuck of chaos, it was odd not to have a single storm. It was strange that she could sit under a parasol in peace.
"Like, for one, where are your Omegas?" Her eyes were sharp then, digging into him for answers. "Why am I the only one walking around in this perfume ad?"
Valentino's smile did not fall, but it cooled for a fraction, drooped just a little. Disappointment. She was used to that. He had to deal with that forever. "They don't live here."
Rue's expression flattened, stirred her sickly-sweet cup of cream. It seemed to clot at the back of her throat. "So, like a cage or a tank?"
"House," Valentino confirmed, leaning back, and exhaled through his nose. One day in, and they were already going to have their first fight. "Caretakers. Safe. Clean. A nice street where they can all interact. I made sure to hit all the minimum requirements based on the rescues."
Minimum requirements. Rescue. A checkbox like animals, like pets, like dogs and cats. What was Rue to him now that she was Omega? What was Rue to him now that she wasn't an Alpha? She hummed. "So, luxury daycare?"
There was a flicker in his eyes, but it passed like water over sand. "Not exactly."
"What are they for?" she pushed, her voice was lower now, dipped into steel. "I'm not going to judge you for it."
"Rue," he pointed out. "You're trying to pick a fight with me."
She raised her hands in surrender. "Not really."
"I know where you want this to go, but this planet, as pretty as it is, does not change easily. I cannot unearth decades of culture and customs ingrained into the people."
Rue pursed her lips. Ingrained. Deeply rooted. So, how did Valentino truly look at her? What did he see in her? "I know I'm pushing at age-old traditions and all that. I just want to know what happens to Omegas that aren't me on Five. What kind of stereotypes am I dealing with here?" She gestured to the Alphas. "Those men don't look at me, so are you paying for that, or is this normal?"
Valentino hummed, a delicate pause. "Not normal for me. But normal for some."
"Are we talking about a pimp type of situation? Or like outcasts of society?"
The Omegas are visited," he said finally, "if packs want children."
Rue blinked. "So breeding, like pets. Am I your pet? Are we out on a walk?"
"Rue," he said, and his tone seemed to change. No anger, no shame, just a weight of air. He placed his glass down, gentle with the porcelain that clinked against the saucer. "I'm not defending our situation. I'm not pretending it's just." His eyes searched her face, connected with hers. "I'm not even asking you to be okay with it. You want to see it? I'll take you there. You want to tear it down?" His voice dropped, firm now, something glittering in his eyes. "I'll hand you the wrecking ball. I'll give you the ministers. The council. I'll make them listen to you. You know I will. And I can."
That had her heart shivering, eyes wide. She couldn't look at him now, turning to her own lavender cream, swirling the spoon in the cup. "You make it sound easy."
"Nothing's easy," he said, voice hard, going close. "But I'm the kind of tyrant that would burn down the entire world for you." Her eyes widened, staring at the honesty in black soul-searching eyes. "You're not my pet." There was a strange maturity now in his gaze, the heat in them seemed to almost boil her heart alive. "You're my mate."
Her lips parted. She couldn't speak, felt the flush of something building. The tension. She didn't want to deal with it now, not with the pound of her heart heavy in her ears. She looked away. "What about your dads?"
"They'll listen, throne's already mine." Valentino leaned back again, sunglasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. "I learned to stop asking for their permission a long, long time ago. They can't control me."
She tilted her head. "And your mates? You think they're going to be as sweet as you are?" This was the lead she needed, the change in topic. Her thoughts shifted, distracted. Her neck itched. "So where are they?"
A beat. "I told you. I'll keep them away," he said, his gaze unwavering.
"Forever?"
"As long as you want."
She narrowed her eyes. "That's impossible."
"I know."
"What's the cost, Valentino?" Her voice was quiet now. "What do you lose?" He looked at her then, properly. No more pleasant smiles, no softness. Just a strange kind of naked honesty. His smile was bittersweet.
"Trust me," he said simply, but did not answer her question. "I'll pay for anything."
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