Mate: Zane’s Perspective

I close the door to my bedroom, my body still hard with need after leaving Sophia trembling and satiated in her bed. It would have been so easy to stay, to take what Conri is howling for in my mind, to claim her completely, mate her, make her irrevocably mine in every sense.

But something held me back.

Not mercy, exactly. I'm not familiar enough with the concept to recognise it. Perhaps it was strategy, a damaged, traumatised omega serves my purposes less effectively than one who comes to accept her place willingly. Or perhaps it was something else entirely, something I'm not prepared to examine too closely.

'Weak,' Conri grumbles, prowling through my consciousness with the satisfied swagger of an alpha who's just claimed his prize. 'Should have mated her. Marked her inside too.'

'We've claimed her,' I counter, stripping off my clothes and stepping into the shower. I turn the water to cold, punishing my body for its continued arousal. 'The rest can wait until tomorrow.'

Conri preens, showing me mental images of Sophia's face as she came apart under my touch, the glazed look in her hazel eyes, the perfect imprint of my teeth on her delicate skin. 'Ours now,' he says with primitive satisfaction. 'No other wolf will dare touch.'

The water does little to cool my blood as memories of her scent, sweet omega notes intensified by arousal, fill my mind. The way her small body fit against mine, how responsive she was despite her fear and resistance. I've had many willing females over my long life, but none affected me quite like this stubborn little wolf with her defiant eyes and trembling surrender.

I step out of the shower, drying myself roughly before pulling on a pair of loose pants to sleep in. Not that sleep seems likely with Conri still strutting around my mind like a conquering warrior.

'Don't understand,' he growls as I stretch out on my bed, staring at the ceiling. 'She wanted it. Nyx wanted us to mate her. Why wait?'

'The girl was nearly raped today, Conri,' I reply with forced patience. 'Claiming her was necessary. Mating her immediately would have been cruel.'

'Cruel?' he scoffs, showing me flashes of Sophia's pleasure, her body's undeniable response to my touch. 'Her body knows what it needs.'

'Her body and her mind are not the same thing,' I argue. 'We need her willing, not just biologically responsive. A broken omega is worth less than one who submits by choice.'

But even as I make this coldly practical argument, something about it feels false. The truth is more complicated, more troubling. Something about her vulnerability after Lucian's attack struck a chord I didn't know existed within me, awakened a protective instinct separate from mere possessiveness.

'She is ours to protect now,' Conri agrees, surprising me with this more nuanced understanding. 'Mate tomorrow. Pups soon.'

I close my eyes, but sleep remains elusive. Behind my eyelids, I see Sophia, not as she was tonight, trembling with unwanted pleasure, but as she was in the library, fighting against a wolf twice her size with fierce determination. The memory of her breaking her attacker’s nose, the knowledge that she fought back rather than submitting immediately, stirs something like respect.

Conri's thoughts drift to more primal images, Sophia beneath me, her stomach rounded with my child, our bloodlines merged to create something extraordinary. True omegas are rare enough, but one with her particular combination of traits, the healing touch, the empathic abilities, the stubborn strength of will, might produce truly exceptional offspring.

'Not just any pups,' Conri insists, catching the clinical direction of my thoughts. 'Our pups. Strong. Special.'

I turn onto my side, irritated by my wolf's fixation. 'She's a true omega, a perfect biological match,' I remind him. 'That doesn't make her our mate.'

Conri growls, the sound reverberating through my mind with unusual force. 'Know she's true omega,' he snaps. 'But she's our true omega. And she's our mate.'

'Based on what?' I demand. 'Biological compatibility? The Council could have given her to any alpha with a score of 98%.'

'Other alphas not like us,' Conri insists. 'Special. Feel it. You feel it too, stupid human.'

I scratch irritably behind my right ear where the crescent-shaped birthmark has begun to itch, a strange coincidence given our conversation. The mark has been there since birth, a small silver crescent that my mother once claimed marked me for greatness.

I force myself to close my eyes and seek sleep, the birthmark continues to itch. And deeper than that physical sensation, something else tugs at my awareness, the newly formed bond between us, already stronger than it should be after a simple claiming bite.

Tomorrow, I will mate her fully. Tomorrow, she will be mine in every way that matters. And then these strange notions, Conri's fixation, the matching marks, the unusual strength of our bond, can be dismissed as the biological effects of claiming a true omega.

Nothing more. Nothing deeper. Nothing that might compromise the control and calculation that have kept me alive and in power for fifty years.

Nothing that might make me weak.