Chapter Eight

The glass tilted back, and Asher watched every drop vanish down Zane’s throat.

Gods, it was beautiful.

He bit down on his lower lip to suppress a wicked gurgle of laughter, but it still slipped through. Zane didn’t even question the drink, he just threw it back like the obedient, boring little soldier he was.

Asher could hardly sit still.

He crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and crossed them again. His fingers itched to clap which was fucking weird considering, but he really wanted to. “Drink up,” he whispered under his breath, leaning forward while digging his elbow deeper into the velvet-lined table. “Don’t stop now. Every drop is a kiss from your favorite brother.”

The moment the last marroon glimmer disappeared from the glass, Asher let out a trembling exhale. His eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed with the pleasure of his success. Zane, the fucking golden bastard of the West family was seconds away from becoming the thing he loathed the most.

An Omega.

The Dezone-Vita, according to the research papers would charge so fast and fucking hard, Zane wouldn’t even know what hit him.

He had no fucking idea that in a matter of minutes, his body would betray him, begging to be fucked. That ironclad jaw and sharp eyes reduced to whimpers and fucking omega need.

Asher licked his lips slowly, imagining it. Zane panting while soaked through his tailored pants. Zane on his knees. A part of Asher wanted to get him alone and drag him into one of the club’s private rooms and–

No.

Actually, no, fuck that. Why hide it?

He should call up a few Alphas right now. A pack of sweaty, snarling nobodies with no shame, and let them wreck Zane in front of everyone. He would record it, post it, subtitlte it in twelve fucking languages and fucking destory him.

That’s what you get, Zane. For pretending you’re better than the real heir, for looking down on me, and stealing what’s mine.

Asher reached for his phone with a trembling hand. He could already fell the fucking high and the power, the fuck-you satisfaction of watching his brother fall.

But his fingertips missed the screen and instead knocked the phone off the table.

Frowning, Asher bent, reaching for his phone where it lay on the floor, but somehow, there were three of his phone, zooming wobbly into one and then spreading out into three again.

What the fuck?

He slowly raised his head up and then blinked.

The club was loud, like it always was, but suddenly the music warped, curling around his skull as though the beats were pulsing right from his brain. He swallowed a painful groan. The neon strobes overhead bled into each other and the red and blue colors suddenly exploded into a fucking rainbow spectrum, of so many colors it beat the high any hard drug could ever cause.

Ugh…. He clutched his head and tried to speak, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

What the fuck? He thought in his head as his throat began to burn. It actually fucking burned as though he’d swallowed fire and that heat rapidly began spreading through his every cell. Imagine lighting up a forest with dry twigs and leaves and watching the orange flames lick every single surface in sight; that was how the fire spread inside him. Right from his navel, a deep rising blaze, and then it spread up and up, until it bloomed beneath his skin. At this point, sweat was leaking out of his pores.

His heart thumped irregularly, and he blinked again, trying to clear his swimming vision. The faces around him had become blurs. A laugh rang out across the club, and it felt like a gunshot in his brain.

Uhh.. he moaned again and glanced at Zane next to him. Only Zane wasn’t sitting there anymore. Confused, he blinked hard and turned his head, almost jumping out of his boiling skin went he found Zane standing right in front of him.

He was watching him with a quiet, perusing look on his usually blank face. Why wasn’t Zane convulsing? Asher wondered through the excruciating pain threatening to tear his skull apart and dig out his brain so the bazz could stop thumping from within him.

‘You–’ Asher finally croaked and leaned forward, or tried to, but his spine had turned to a wet noodle and the world tilted instead.

A wave of nausea roared up his throat, and the velvet coach beneath him swayed as though it were a boat caught in a storm. He gripped the table and missed, causing his hand to flop uselessly by his side.

As Asher’s vision fractured into shards, there was no music anymore. Just a dull roaring sound. His blood was screaming in his ears, asking why? Why? What the fuck was happening.

The last thing he saw was Zane. That beautiful, smug, victorious fucking face watching him come undone.

Asher reached for him with shaking fingers, possibly wanting to claw at his face, but his eyes shut, and everything went black.

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When Asher slowly began stirring back to consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the cool silk sheets draped over his very naked skin.

Naked.

His eyes snapped open instantly, lungs hitching on a breath. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, painted in silver and black accents. There was a black chandelier that also swung lazily, casting spinning flecks of light across the walls.

This wasn’t one of the private rooms in the club. Asher didn’t know where he fucking was.

And his body….ughhh, god, his body felt wrong. His skin was literally vibrating, every nerve ending hyper-attuned, as if someone had wired him directly into an electric current. The sheets brushing his thighs sent sparks down his spine and anytime it brushed over his dick…

Wait.

Sitting up with a groan, Asher pulled back the sheets from his body.

Fuck.

His cock lay straining against his abdomen, painfully hard and flushed an angry red. A bead of precome welled at the tip, dripping down the shaft in a slow, steady leak, like a faucet someone forgot to shut off.

“Ah–ah–” Asher gasped, his hips twitching as he gave shallow thrusts into the empty air. Gods, he needed. Every muscle in his body felt used. His limbs were limp and heavy with draining exhaustion as though he’d been through hours of sex, but without the satisfaction. Without the release. Instead, a gnawing hollowness burned deeply behind his navel.

His body screamed to be filled…to be touched….to…oh gods…to be fucked. An alpha should never wish to be fucked. It was against their primary nature. They owned, claimed, and dominated. Why did it feel like he was in a different kind of rut…like…like a heat?7

“What the fuck is happening to me?” he rasped out loud, thankful to have gotten his voice back at least.

Suddenly he began to perceive a suffocatingly sweet and cloying fruity scent. His throat clenched around the scent, and it went straight to his head. It smelled like…Omega.

Asher blinked dazedly, licking at his dry lips. Had he…? Did he bring someone to a hotel? One of the bar sluts or maybe an omega in heat.

He turned his head, but the other side of the bed was perfectly made. There were no dents to confirm anyone had slept there.

But that fuking omega scent was everywhere. It clung to the air and the sheets, hell, to even his own skin. His hips involuntarily jerked again, chasing the ghost of a touch. He was so fucking confused.

His skin broke out in goosebumps when the door creaked open and he saw Zane stroll into the room until he was standing by the foot of the bed. He was fully clothed and bathed in that dim weirdly silverly light from the chanderlier like some fucking god and just like in the club, Zane was watching him.

Asher’s heart stopped, and he inhaled sharply, but that was the biggest mistake of his entire life. He sucked in a lungful of Zane’s pure scent and the world came into focus.

ALPHA!

His scent slammed into Asher’s brain like a wrecking ball. He choked on it, eyes rolling back as his cock twitched so hard it slapped against his chiseled abs. A hot whimper escaped his throat before he could bite it down. 

No.

But his body didn’t listen. His thighs desperately rubbed together, and his spine bowed off the bed, reaching for something…anything.

And the worst part was that his hands were trembling with the urge to grab Zane and drag him onto the bed. To shove his face into that long corded neck and bury his nose there, inhaling, licking and rubbing his cock all over that stupid scent until something…anything made it stop.

He needed….

He didn’t know what he needed.

Just that his body keened for Zane.

“Zane,” Asher whispered. He couldn’t even meet his brother’s eyes anymore. His entire body was on fire and his dick pulsed. The hunger coiled inside him was not Alpha or a rut. It was unlike anything he’d ever known. “I need….” to cum. He said the last part quietly as tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.

But the doctor just stood there, letting Asher suffer. Asher wanted to scream. 

“Zane…” he gasped again, curling in on himself as sweat slicked his brow. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

Zane’s answering smile was enough to shatter the last of Asher’s pride. He clutched the sheet, panting and trembling. He didn't know what was happening. He just knew he’d never felt this empty, and Zane was the only thing in the world that could possibly fill it.