Manipulative birthright

MARVEL'S POV

"I did not come here to argue with you."

Prince Alaric strode toward me, his pheromones finally clearing from the room. He circled me slowly, like he was inspecting something that already belonged to him, then stopped behind me and lowered his head toward my neck.

"You've hidden long enough. It is time to perform your duty."

Shrugging him off, I stepped back, only to find his guards blocking my path.

"I don't know why you think I'm your mate, but you have the wrong person, Your Majesty," I said, forcing the title through clenched teeth.

His head dipped as he released an exasperated sigh.

"A runaway mate, a liar, and now a manipulator." He looked me over with the kind of condescension that made my stomach twist. "I hate that I have been reduced to this," he said, "but your pure Verlian blood makes you the one."

Verlian.

For a second, I froze.

Only a handful of people knew the Hayes family had once been called Verlians, exploited for generations as breeding stock by high ranking families desperate to strengthen their own, until my great-grandfather changed the name and buried the truth.

Two secrets had shaped an entire life: being a pure blood omega, and descending from Verlians. That great-grandfather had deliberately diluted the bloodline by marrying a beta, believing it would prevent another pure blood from ever being born.

Apparently, he had been wrong.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but I don't see how using my family's original name is supposed to prove any of your ridiculous claims," I said, trying to sound confident even as my voice trembled at the edges.

Alaric chuckled, a glimpse of white teeth flashing beneath his controlled expression. "Your father renewed the blood pact."

My brows drew together.

"You know the one. The pact your family renews with the royal family every fifty years." He stepped closer. "So perhaps instead of lying your way out of this, you should accept your responsibility."

Some people were prettier when they kept their mouths shut. The Crown Prince was one of them.

"Please leave, Your Majesty," I said, forcing the words out without lowering my gaze. “Your claims are baseless.”

He sniggered, then pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. I watched him warily until someone answered and he turned the screen toward me.

My father's face appeared.

My heart lurched. That man hadn't been seen in years.

"You're going to be charged for your crimes against the Crown," Alaric said calmly. "But first, tell your son the truth."

Color drained from my father's face. For several seconds, he said nothing. He wouldn't look at me, not even through a screen.

"Dad?"

His lips parted. No words came. Then the call ended.

I stared at the blank screen, my stomach twisting. "What the hell was that?"

Alaric lowered his phone. "What is it with your family and refusing to obey simple rules?" He stepped closer again. "All you have to do is provide me with an heir, and your obligations will be fulfilled."

A cold knot tightened in my stomach. "Get out."

His eyebrows lifted. "What did you say?"

"I said get out of here!" My voice echoed across the laboratory.

The guards moved immediately, one reaching for his weapon, clearly reading the outburst as a threat against the Crown Prince. Alaric raised one hand, and they stopped.

"I will have you know that nothing I do here is unconstitutional." His voice had gone cold. "You are my birthright, Marvel. And you will fulfill your duties to me."

The word churned in my stomach, worse than Verlian had.

Before an answer could come, he walked past me, deliberately brushing his shoulder against mine hard enough to make me stumble. At the doorway, he stopped and turned his head slightly.

"I'll be back." His blue eyes met mine. "And you had better be ready."

The guards followed him out. The door remained open behind them.

"Ah, fucking bastard!" I grabbed my hair and paced once before remembering Jade.

He was still crouched near the workstation, one hand pressed against his throat, struggling to recover from the exposure. I hurried over and helped him up.

"Are you okay?"

"I should be the one asking you that," he said, still breathing heavily. "The prince said—"

"It doesn't matter what that arrogant jerk said," I snapped, too quickly.

Jade stared at me. "But you seemed immune to his pheromones."

My jaw tightened. "I am not his mate."

"Doc—"

"I am nobody's mate!" The words came out louder than intended.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Soulmate compatibility had never been something to believe in, only something to resent. Every alpha and omega carried compatibility markers in their DNA; the higher the percentage, the more naturally their bodies responded to each other. One hundred percent compatibility was said to be almost impossible, and those rare few who reached it had bodies completely resistant to each other's pheromones.

That was why scent patches mattered, one of the most popular products manufactured by Hayes Biotech, designed to dull the effects of alpha pheromones and keep omegas from being overwhelmed.

Alaric's pheromones had affected everyone in the room. Everyone except me. And his beta guards.

My stomach tightened. "The prince's DNA is publicly available, isn't it?"

Jade gave me a cautious look. "Yes and no. His blood constantly evolves, so the genetic database only has a sample from five years ago."

"That's fine."

"You're thinking about compatibility."

"Mate genetics are inherent," I said, turning toward the door Alaric had disappeared through. "Compatibility doesn't vanish because a sample is old."

Jade's expression changed. "You want me to get his DNA?"

"Get me a sample."

He hesitated. "Doc..."

"Jade."

He sighed. "Yes, Doc." He left, the door clicking shut behind him.

I sank back into my chair and pinched the bridge of my nose, scalp still tender. Five minutes was all it had taken for Alaric to walk in and turn a carefully controlled life upside down.

My phone chimed.

The number wasn't saved. My stomach dropped.

Not again.

My stalker. For five years, he'd been sending messages, sometimes photographs of places I'd visited or gifts never ordered. He never came close enough for the police to catch him, never left fingerprints. Ignoring him had become second nature, another unpleasant part of life.

But this message was different.

The photograph filled the screen the moment it opened, and my chest tightened.

Alaric. Taken only minutes ago. Inside the laboratory.

The message beneath it contained four words.

‘Should I kill him?’

My blood ran cold. I blocked the number immediately, staring at the screen with my fingers trembling.

My stalker had always been dangerous, but he'd never interfered directly. Every threat against me had simply disappeared, enemies backing down, people who tried to hurt me vanishing. The police had even suspected I was using him as cover to destroy my own enemies. I'd always denied it.

But this was different. He'd threatened the Crown Prince. That could mean death for me even if it was by association.

I dropped the phone onto the desk. It chimed again. 

Slowly, I picked it up.

Unknown Number: You shouldn't have blocked me, Marvel.

My heart slammed against my ribs. Another message appeared.

Unknown Number: Now I know I have to try harder.

Then came the final message.

Unknown Number: I'll see you tonight, mate.