The clink of cutlery had just begun to soften when Siora, Draven's Omega wife, finally spoke. Her voice was gentle, but there was a calculating edge beneath it.
"They're in the country?" she asked, setting down her fork. "If I recall correctly… wouldn't his children be around our age by now?"
Across the table, Aveline's brows arched. Her Omega pheromones pricked faintly with alarm.
"And you want your grandchild to marry one of them?"
Lucien's gaze swept over the family, steady and uncompromising. His Alpha pheromones pressed into the room like iron. "You are correct—they are of your generation. However, he still has an unmarried son who is very much in demand among the armed forces. I believe you all know his title: the Storm-Eyed Demon."
The reaction was immediate. Kael and Renzo, seated side by side, both blurted, almost in chorus, "The Demon General?" Their voices cracked with disbelief, Omega pheromones spiking sharply with anxiety.
Asheren's stomach twisted. He had heard the name whispered too—who hadn't?—but the way the words fell from his cousins' mouths made the air feel heavier. He kept his gaze low, lavender eyes fixed on the tablecloth, but his pulse thudded in his ears.
The Demon General.
A man spoken of like a weapon, not a person.
"They say his eyes burn like molten gold when he calls on his hidden power," Renzo whispered, voice hushed with a mix of fear and awe. "In that moment, he's no Alpha—only judgment, only fire."
Asheren's hands curled into fists beneath the table. His own eyes, pale violet and fragile-looking, had never burned with anything. He wondered, briefly, how it would feel to carry that kind of presence—the kind that silenced a room.
Siora broke the hush. "And which of our granddaughters do you intend to send, Father?"
Lucien leaned back, his presence filling every corner of the room. "If age is our measure, then Kael and Eira are both of marrying age—"
"No!" Kael's voice cracked like glass, his pheromones flooding the air in panicked protest. He turned instantly toward his mother, eyes wet and desperate. "Ma, you can't let him—!"
Siora's expression tightened, but before she could speak, Aveline rose. Her Omega pheromones surged, laced with fury. She placed a protective hand on Eira's shoulder.
"I won't allow it. You would feed my daughter to that… that demon? He's not a husband—he's a machine of war! A military hound that knows nothing but blood. How do you expect him to be kind to a mate?"
Lucien's eyes narrowed, his Alpha dominance flaring like the weight of a storm. The air grew thick; Asheren felt it pressing against his skin, suffocating, forcing his own instincts to bow. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to lower his gaze further.
"You speak without knowing him," Lucien said coldly. "He is of good stock. An honorable family. If I break this vow, I do more than dishonor myself—I sever the trust of the man who carried me through war. You all know the weight of a Thessara's word."
Alaric finally spoke, voice calm but edged with pragmatism. His Alpha pheromones cut through the tension like steel.
"Grandfather. There are other ways to honor a promise. Give them a share of Thessara. Let them expand their business empire. It would serve as compensation, and no one need be shackled to a stranger in the name of an old vow."
The suggestion made sense, too much sense. Asherenalmost wanted to cling to it. But then Lucien's eyes hardened further, and Asheren knew: there would be no buying out of this. His grandfather's pride was not for sale.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Asheren'schest rose and fell too quickly, his own Alpha pheromones coiled tight and trembling in his chest. For the first time, he wondered—not if Eira or Kael would be chosen—
—but if Lucien's gaze might fall on him next.
Lucien's voice was iron, unyielding.
"This is not about wealth. They have more than enough. This is about a man's honor—my honor—and the promise made in blood. As a soldier, as a comrade, I cannot break my word."
The table was already thick with tension, but Renzo suddenly leaned forward, his Omega pheromones sharp and nervous.
"Then… why not send Asheren?"
Asheren froze. His breath caught, his head snapping toward his cousin in disbelief. "What—?"
Every gaze turned on him. The weight of their stares pressed like shackles against his skin.
"Me?" His voice cracked, his Alpha pheromones spiking erratically, flaring with protest.
"That's impossible. I'm an Alpha. You can't bind an Alpha to another Alpha—it's unnatural, it's outrageous!"
"It doesn't matter!" Kael cut in sharply, his Omega pheromones sour with resentment. "All they want is the marriage to be honored. Grandfather, he wants your approval—so let him do it. It's perfect." His eyes darted to Asheren, gleaming with satisfaction at cornering him.
Asheren's jaw clenched. His chest rose too fast, fury mixing with humiliation. They wanted to shove him into this because he was the bastard son—the unwanted Alpha no one truly claimed. His pheromones vibrated in his chest, straining against his control.
"You would throw me away just to save yourselves?" His lavender eyes burned, his voice sharp.
Kael's mouth curved into a cold smirk. "You fit perfectly for the role."
The contempt in his tone was worse than the words. Asheren's nails dug into his palms until he felt them bite his skin. He had always known—always—that his father's household despised him. But this? To cast him as a scapegoat, a sacrifice, because they feared the Demon General? Rage flared hot in his chest.
"Don't you dare dump your responsibility on me!" Asheren snapped, half-rising, his Alpha aura sparking, dangerous.
But then—warmth. A hand pressed over his, trembling but firm. His mother.
Nyra's Omega pheromones quivered with fear, yet there was steel in her voice. "He is still young. And he is an Alpha. No such bond exists—Alpha to Alpha. It would destroy him. Please, you cannot—"
Her plea was sliced short.
"You dare refuse?" Siora's voice rang sharp, venomous. The refined Omega's eyes narrowed, brimming with disdain. "Have you already forgotten the disgrace you brought upon this family? You seduced my husband and bore his bastard son. You ruined his name—and for what? To chase fame on a stage? Look at you now. Living off our money, surviving only because of our charity. Without us, neither you nor that boy would have survived."
The words seared through the air like acid.
Asheren's fists slammed against the table, rattling the glasses. His Alpha pheromones burst outward in a violent wave, hot and electric, filling the room with raw power. "That's enough!" he roared, his voice carrying the weight of instinctual command.
The restaurant fell into silence.
Asheren stood tall, lavender eyes burning, chest heaving. He didn't care if he looked reckless, or if his pheromones stung the air like a blade. For once, he would not bow, and he would not let anyone reduce his mother to ashes with their words.