And I knew she did. That quick brain pulling the pieces together and understanding why I would not mate my wife.
“Which is why you choose to marry and not mate. Though why not mate at a later date? When you know each other better.”
“Perhaps I’ve no interest in turning into a feral alpha. It would take a remarkable person—one I could not imagine living without—to convince me to take a mate. One who could not live without me. I would mate them no matter the dynamic or sex. Do you understand me?” I could not explain why it mattered but I needed her to… To what? Agree with me?
“I should not have pried. We have work to do, Your Grace,” she cleared her throat.
“You are avoiding my question,” I pointed out.
“I do not understand it,” she sighed, her eyes unhappy. “I would not fight with you for the world. I am sure that your reasons make sense to you but to me, they are a mystery.”
“Because I do not wish an unhappy mating on anyone. My grandparents were happy because they married for respect, the legacy of the dukedom. But they mated those they loved. I grew up with a pack who were a single unit. Should I force a mate bond on an omega? A mate bond she or he didn’t desire? Or one that I didn’t desire? Is that love, do you think? Or respect?”
Hartwell, so quick with an answer to every question put to her, stood looking at me. Her cheeks were stained pink, and she pulled that blasted, plump lower lip between her teeth. I gripped the arms of my chair. My alpha rode me hard, urging me to make plain to her exactly how I felt about mating bites. If I just got my teeth on her neck, she might better understand the permanency of something she had not asked for. That is if an alpha would respond as an omega did. As our eyes locked. I perceived the dilemma of my reaction to my secretary. As an alpha, I really ought not have this response to another alpha. It was not unheard of. But alphas needed defined hierarchies, making an equal relationship between two alphas challenging without the tempering influence of an omega. Yet here I was, satisfied to allow her to play as she would, make small challenges to my authority, all because I knew it would take very little for me to exert my dominance. We could work, I realised. With her youth and, despite those sparks of temper, natural submissiveness. We could work as mates. And for that very reason, I must fight my urges. For desiring to mate her while I planned to marry the countess went against my own principles. What omega would accept that scheme? For if I were to take her to my bed, I would never deny her access. An omega bride would have to accept we were one. All of which made this an impossible game of if’s and could be’s.
“Get back to work,” I said, at last breaking eye contact. She walked back to her desk and sat, her focus seemingly back on the letters of business she’d been tasked with. But every so often, when I was caught in a mindless perusal of my young secretary’s face, her eyes would meet mine. Enthralled by each other before one of us looked away.
“Your Grace, I believe it is time for me to return to my uncle’s,” her voice rough as if roused from a deep sleep. I looked at the clock and saw the late hour and shooed her away before I gave in to the impulse to invite her to stay for a light meal or game of chess.
That night I sat up weighing my options. I could not do without the best secretary I’d had, though I would never tell her that. It was more satisfying to watch her not realise her own brilliance. And at the same time, I needed to right the course of our relationship. Put her in the role of secretary, perhaps protegé. Invite her to some dinner and introduce her to other alphas she could make connections with. For if I kept her too close, I would never be able to give her up. I walked into the duchess’s nest, a place I had visited every night for the last week. I had come to London with a clear plan in mind, but now I felt almost feral with the need to change that plan and follow instincts that demanded I bring her here to this nest. Nests were meant for omegas, but I wanted to see Hartwell here. See whether she would bare her neck for me. How would she taste? What would her pink cunt look like? What sounds would she make as I locked us together on my knot?