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Nick woke up in a massive, silk-sheeted bed, entirely alone. He stared at the ceiling, the familiar, crushing weight of loneliness settling over his chest. The silk beneath his calloused, scarred hands felt like a mockery, too soft and too cool for a man like him. As the morning light filtered through the heavy velvet drapes, two things rang as absolute truth in his mind:
Today was his birthday.
And he was a failure of a sire.
Not that Gregory had ever been shy about letting him know that.
Nick knew that Alphas were supposed to lead. They were supposed to be strong, to command rooms, to keep the pack safe and prosperous. But no matter how hard he tried, it seemed that part of him was just… broken.
He remembered how relieved he’d been when his parents had engaged him to Lord Ulysses’s second son. Gregory had been a beautiful redhead Omega, in possession of a fiery temper and a sheer force of will that Nick had been completely in awe of. Nick had courted Gregory with desperate earnestness, doing everything he could to make himself agreeable, hoping his devotion would make up for his inherent failures as an Alpha. He had sworn at the altar to obey his spouse in all things, even as his own parents threatened to disown him for being so deeply, pathetically submissive. Nick hadn't cared. He was in love.
That illusion ended soon after Gregory’s first pregnancy began.
Gregory had been harsh, his temper turning vicious. The casual slaps and thrown objects that the maids assured him were just "pregnancy moods" didn't pass. Instead, the bruises that littered Nick’s skin turned into permanent accessories. But Nick took it, believing that once their child was born, Gregory would mellow.
And yet, when the doctor announced that their firstborn, Celine, was an Omega, and a girl at that, Gregory had shrieked like a banshee.
Nick would never forget the sheer, unadulterated hatred in his husband's eyes. Gregory had nearly killed their sweet little girl in his rage, utterly disgusted that she had been born who she was. Nick had thrown himself in the way.
Hit me, he had begged. Punish me.
Gregory had accepted the trade.
From that day on, Celine—and later, Elias, another sweet Omega—were the only bright spots in Nick’s nightmare of a life.
When he cradled them in his arms, when he sang them the lullaby his mother sang him as a child, those were the only times the mansion had felt like his home.
Gregory never stopped reminding Nick that it was all his fault. If Nick were stronger, Gregory sneered, if he were more of a real Alpha, then the children would have been born strong Alphas, too. Gregory said he wouldn't have to punish them if Nick wasn't so weak.
And so, Gregory had locked him away. For years, Nick was confined to a dreary, drafty suite in the furthest reaches of their estate. Gregory told him he was an embarrassment, too ugly and too broken to be seen by the outside world. Nick believed him. He spent his days in isolation, only allowed out when Gregory wanted to vent his frustrations, or when Nick desperately traded his body for a few hours of time with his children.
And then, Gregory had died of a sudden fever.
Despite everything, Nick had mourned him. He had mourned the life they could have had.
Then, once the mourning period had passed, he had picked himself up and tried to take care of the estate and his children. As best as a failure of an Alpha could.
And yet, in less than a week, he realized he couldn't even do that.
Gregory had bled them dry, throwing expensive balls that had drained the dowry in their first years of marriage. They were drowning in debt, the creditors circling like vultures. If Nick couldn't get out of it, Celine and Elias would be sold off into arranged marriages to the highest bidders, subjected to the same hell Nick had lived.
Nick refused. If anyone was to suffer, it would be him.
When Silas Deane—a notoriously powerful, terrifyingly strict Beta lord, one that even Nick had heard rumors about—offered a marriage contract that came with a staggering dowry, enough to clear every debt, Nick had signed his life away without a second thought.
He didn't care why Silas wanted him.
He would be a spouse again. He would endure the beatings, the pain, anything, so long as his pups were fed, housed, and safe from marriage.
So, once again, Nick ended up at the altar, swearing to obey his lord husband in all things.
Except, things at Silas’s estate hadn't gone as Nick expected.
Silas Deane was terrifying, but his control was…strange.
The Beta had commanded that Nick be stripped of his old clothes and bathed, but hadn't stayed to watch.
He had commanded that Nick eat three nutrient-dense meals a day.
He commanded Nick to sleep in a heated bed, and practically placed him under house arrest in the West Wing.
That, at least, was familiar.
What wasn’t familiar was the lack of physical demands. Silas hadn't touched him once—not even on the night of their wedding ceremony.
Every night, Nick sat shivering on the edge of the silk mattress, waiting for heavy footsteps, for the door to open, for demanding hands on his body. Yet every night, the door stayed closed.
Eventually, Nick could only assume it was because Silas found him as ruined and repulsive as Nick found himself. Part of him was even grateful for the reprieve.
He could handle the isolation. He could even handle the disgust.
But what he couldn't handle—the true terror that kept him awake in a cold sweat every night—was the pups.
Silas had taken Celine and Elias the moment they arrived.
"The pups will be housed in the East Wing,” he had declared coldly on their first evening. “You are to remain in the West Wing. You will not see them. Do I make myself clear?”
Nick had agreed—because he was a coward, and because Silas’s guards were heavily armed. But three weeks had passed.
Three weeks of agonizing, scent-deprived hell.
The two times Nick had gathered enough bravery to ask to see his children, Silas’s jaw would clench, his spiced scent would flare in anger as he replied, “They are safe. And they will be far away from you.”
Nick rolled over in the empty bed, burying his face in his hands as a pathetic sound tore from his throat.
Were his pups crying for him, too? Was Silas punishing him by keeping them away? Or worse. What if Silas was hurting them?
An Alpha was supposed to protect his pack. He was supposed to die for them, if he must.
And instead, Nick had delivered them into the hands of a cold, unfeeling lord who wouldn't even let their sire see them.
Did they think he had abandoned them?
He couldn't take it anymore. Not today, of all days.
Today, it was his birthday.
Today, Celine and Elias would sneak into his locked rooms, smelling of sweet milk and lavender, presenting him with a squashed clumsy flower crown and, recently, a messy drawing.
Today, the silence was deafening.
He had to make a bargain.
He had to give Silas what he wanted, whatever it was, to buy time with his children.
Pushing himself out of bed, Nick trudged to the closet and pulled out a loose, see-through linen tunic. It was spun from a sheer, gossamer-thin linen, the neckline plunging and the fabric so translucent it left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Nick stripped off his sleepwear and pulled it over his head. It was one of the few pieces he had left from his first marriage that was still entirely intact—untorn, and free of any rusted brown blood splatters.
His large, calloused hands were so clumsy he could barely manage the delicate drawstrings at his chest. The soft, sheer fabric draped over his broad shoulders, leaving every scar and contour of his chest on full display. He felt utterly humiliated, like he always did in these things.
But he had to offer Silas something.
Moving to the washbasin, Nick splashed freezing water over his face, shivering as it dripped down his neck and soaked the thin linen to his skin. Slowly, he forced himself to look up into the gilded mirror above the vanity.
He hated what he saw.
Staring back at him was a tired, broken shell of a man. His temples were heavily threaded with stark gray, aging him years past his true age. His eyes looked hollow, framed by the harsh, jagged scar that slashed viciously across his left cheekbone—a permanent souvenir from the back of Gregory’s hand and his heavy, jewel-encrusted rings.
The delicate, translucent white fabric of the tunic contrasted sickeningly with his weathered skin and his heavy frame.
By God, he was ugly.
I'll give him everything, Nick thought, his jaw setting with grim resolve. I'll crawl on the floor and beg to suck him off if he just lets me see them.
Nick left his chambers, walking barefoot through the opulent, empty corridors.
He knew where Silas would be. The Beta lord was always in his grand study. As Nick approached the heavy oak doors, his heart hammered against his ribs. He forced his Alpha instincts down. He was here to beg. Not fight.
He pushed the doors open.
The study smelled of parchment, and Silas’s smoky spiced scent.
The Beta himself sat behind an immense mahogany desk, impeccably dressed, his sharp features furrowed as he read a ledger. He looked up as the door clicked shut, his dark eyes locking onto Nick.
"Nickolas," Silas said, his voice mild and even. He glanced at the clock. "It is outside of your scheduled waking hour. You should be resting."
Nick didn't answer. He walked forward, his breathing shallow, and stopped in the center of the plush rug.
"Did you require something?" Silas asked, his tone hardening slightly as he put the quill down. "And next time, please do call a servant. I will not tolerate you wandering the halls unattended."
Nick didn't answer. He walked to the center of the plush rug, his breathing ragged, and dropped hard to his knees.
Silas stiffened. "What are you doing?"
"Please," Nick choked out. His hands shook as he unclasped the cloak, pulling it off to show his scarred chest. He bowed his head, exposing his nape in a way Gregory had told him made him pleasing. "Please, my lord. I know I’m old, and I’m ugly, and my body isn't what you wanted. But I can be good to you."
Silas stood up, his chair scraping violently. "What is the—"
"Use me!" Nick begged. "Do whatever you want to me! Take my body, use me every hour of the day, beat me if you want to! I’ll be perfect. Anything you want." He pressed his forehead to the rug. "Just, please. It's my birthday. Let me see my babies. Let me know they are alive."
The silence in the room was deafening.
Nick stayed curled on the floor, trembling violently, waiting for the heavy boot to strike his ribs. Or a slap. Or to hear a cold, hard laugh.
"God above," Silas whispered. Was he disgusted with how used-up Nick was?
Rapid footsteps rounded the desk, and Nick squeezed his eyes shut tighter, flinching in advance.
He was ready for anything, but when Silas dropped to his knees in front of him his eyes flew open. The Beta’s hands were shaking. Silas snatched up the discarded cloak and, with surprising gentleness, draped it back over Nick’s shivering form.
Nick lifted his head, breaking the rules in sheer confusion. Was he too horrifying, or did the lord just prefer he be clothed for whatever he did next?
Silas was still kneeling inches away from Nick. The alpha quickly averted his gaze, lest he be accused of forgetting his place.
"Nick," Silas breathed, his scent thick with a sour note. Nick didn't know him well enough to guess what it meant. Disgust? Pity? Perhaps dark amusement? "Look at me."
Faced with a direct order, Nick had no choice. He raised his head, tears blurring his vision. "I can take it," he mumbled reflexively. "I promise, my lord, anything.”
"Nickolas," Silas breathed. "Nickolas, you are not ugly. Far from it."
Nick dared lift his head. The beta was lying for some reason, but that didn't matter. He knew what to do next if he wanted to see his pups.
"Thank you, my lord. Thank you. How would you like me?"
He started to spread his legs, hand on the tunic, preparing to strip away the last bit of his battered dignity. A hand stopped him halfway through.
“Nickolas, no.”
Nick jerked backward so violently his body practically folded in half. He had been presumptuous. The Beta didn't want him in his bed. Of course not, he likely had plenty of handsome lovers. He just wanted a punching bag, and Nick had dared to make it sordid.
He threw himself away from the incoming hand, his foot catching awkwardly in the thick rug. He went down hard, tumbling backward until a sickening crack echoed through the quiet study as the side of his head collided with the solid mahogany leg of the desk.
White flashed behind Nick’s eyes, but he barely felt the pain as he scrambled frantically into the narrow space under the edge of the desk, curling his large, scarred frame into the tightest ball he could manage. He tucked his knees to his chest and threw both hands out, leaving his nape unprotected even as his instincts screamed at him to flee or fight.
But he couldn't.
Nick squeezed his eyes shut, his entire body locking up into a rigid, trembling block of muscle, waiting for the heavy boot to connect with his spine.
"I’m sorry!" Nick babbled, his voice cracking into a high, breathless whimper. "Forgive me, my lord, I forgot my place! I'm sorry!"
The silence in the room felt suffocating. Nick waited for the heavy strike of a boot, his chest heaving as he frantically tried to prepare for the pain.
"I can take it, I swear, just, just not the face, my lord," Nick begged, the words tumbling out in a terrified rush. "Just- please, not the face. I need to smile for the pups when you let me see them. Anything else, I'm sorry."
He pressed his forehead hard into his own knees, shaking so violently his teeth chattered. He waited for the blow.
"A beating?" Silas’s voice sounded choked up for some reason.
Nick squeezed his eyes shut. "Please, just strike me—"
"I will never lay a hand on you in anger!" Silas cried out, the sheer desperation in the Beta's voice finally making Nick’s eyes fly open.
Silas was still kneeling inches away, but he looked physically sick. His hair was falling into his eyes, his face ashen.
"Nickolas," Silas breathed, his smoky spiced scent spiking, becoming completely unbearable. "The reason I behaved the way I did…the reason I kept my distance… was because I feared you might strike me."
Nick’s brain ground to a sudden, screeching halt. The words didn't make sense. "What?"
"Gregory," Silas said, the name sounding like the bastard on his tongue. "Your late husband... he spun a very thorough web, Nickolas."
Nick stared at him, utterly bewildered. "What are you talking about?"
"I thought you were a violent Alpha," Silas explained, his voice cracking. "Gregory was always telling anyone who would listen that he had to protect his sweet children from your unpredictable rages. He told them you hated your pups for being Omegas, and that you used your servants as punching bags."
Nick’s breath hitched. "I was locked in my rooms for years. I barely even saw anyone."
Silas closed his eyes, leaning back as if he had been physically struck. "He locked you away so no one could see the truth," Silas whispered. "God above. How could he do that?"
Nick didn't answer. He couldn't breathe. Gregory. Even in death, Gregory was still torturing him.
"I kept Celine and Elias in the East Wing to protect them from you," Silas continued, rapidly, as though trying to get all the words out in one go. "They are the reason I arranged this marriage. I put them under guard so you couldn't reach them. I was told that you were a raging drunkard, so I was waiting for you to be sober and strong before I confronted you about hurting them."
Nick gasped for air, his chest heaving violently. "I... I would never," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I would never lay a hand on them. They're my pups."
Silas let out a heavy breath that sounded like a sob. "I am a fool," the Beta whispered. "An absolute, arrogant fool."
Without warning, Silas stood up, his jaw clenched hard. He reached down and grabbed Nick by the arms, hauling the larger Alpha to his feet in one abrupt, jerky motion."Come with me," Silas commanded. His voice was strict again, tight with a frantic, desperate edge. "Right now."Nick stumbled as he was dragged forward, his blood running cold. Silas's scent was still flaring, sharp and overwhelming.
Come with me.
The Beta had realized Nick wasn't the monster Gregory claimed, but that didn't mean Silas wanted a broken, useless Alpha in his house either. Nick swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs as Silas pulled him toward the door.
Was he being thrown out?
Was he being taken to the dungeons?
Silas held Nick's hand tightly, leading the Alpha down the corridors, straight to the heavy oak doors.
Two armed guards stood at attention before them.
"Dismissed," Silas barked. The guards scrambled away instantly.
While Nick stood there, bewildered, wondering why they were here, Silas turned the brass handle and pushed the doors open.
The room inside was a sunlit nursery. Plush rugs covered the floor, and the air smelled of the unmistakably sweet scent of happy pups.Sitting at a small table, playing with a set of wooden blocks, were Celine and Elias. They were wearing soft, beautiful clothes, their cheeks round and healthy.
Nick’s heart stopped beating.
"Papa!"
Celine saw him first. The little girl dropped her toy and let out a squeal of absolute delight. Elias spun around, and both of them bolted across the room.
Nick let out a wrecked, breathless sob, dropping to his knees again—this time to catch his home in his arms.
Elias and Celine crashed into him, smelling of joy, perfectly unharmed.
"Papa, Papa! Happy birthday!" Elias babbled, squishing his soft cheeks against Nick's. "Look! Lord Silas gave us sweet cakes with honey for your birthday! I made you a new drawing! It has a big house and all of us! Why did you take so long to wake up?"
"They told us you were sick," Celine chimed in, burying her face in Nick's neck, breathing in his distressed scent and instantly purring to soothe him. "We cried so much, but Lord Silas promised you were resting to get better. Are you better now?"
"I'm better," Nick choked out, crushing them to his chest, burying his face in their soft hair as the lingering terror finally evaporated from his bones. "I'm so much better, my sweetings."
He looked up. Silas was standing in the doorway. The Beta's strict, terrifying expression was completely gone, replaced by something devastatingly soft.
"Happy birthday, Nickolas," Silas murmured softly. "No one will ever separate you from them again. You have my word.”
Nick pulled his pups closer, breathing in their scent. He dragged his jaw over their soft hair, coating them in his scent. Mine. Safe. A deep, protective rumble built in his chest.
Two small, shaky purrs answered him. Nick held his world safe in his hands, and let himself completely fall apart.