Chapter Text
Hannibal walked calmly through the slap-dash-departed warehouse. The smell of rubber from tires pulling away still warmed the air. Inside the building the scent of blood hung around, sinking into the damp air and tinging it rancid. Hannibal had tracked Will to a locked room, as his men – just Tier and Brown – circled the rest of the warehouse, looking for any stray leftovers.
Cordell, Verger’s favoured henchman was face up on the ground at Will’s feet, eyes bulged in fear, the open mouth of his throat still oozing. The left side of his face was caught; skin bunched in open tracks, his teeth on show where a chunk of his jowl had been bitten clean off.
Will stood in the corner, mouth slick with blood. His hands too. His favoured knife that he always kept strapped to his hip was glinting tight in his hand, dripping warm blood down to the floor. Will was both stiff and quivering, eyes wide in his bloody face.
‘Something went wrong tonight,’ Hannibal said, waiting on an explanation. Will should have been driving out to a secure location, keeping an eye on a drop. Keeping Hannibal’s money secure. He didn’t like the company of other men and had always worked better alone. Was usually quick enough to move in and out of the shadows, his finely attuned senses a brilliant reflex against danger.
Tonight his scent was all wrong. The dark floral musk that would permeate Hannibal’s locked bedroom every so often was tinged in something metallic. His shirt was undone almost to his stomach, bearing a deep wedge of smooth skin, wet with perspiration, the tautness of muscle flexing beneath the slick red of Cordell’s blood. His pants were undone and pulled open, the buckle to his belt hanging loose. Hannibal took in the sight of him, not allowing himself to breathe it in too deep. From outside the room Matthew’s footsteps wandered by, calling out an all clear. He didn’t approach the room, picking up on the scent.
‘They induced a fake heat,’ Will was saying, still mostly in his own mind. Hannibal followed his lidded eyes to the syringe sitting empty beside the corpse on the ground. Will was standing in front of a weathered medical chair. On each arm rest were restraints that had been torn open and now dangled like tendons from the metal frame. Will must’ve been tied to it, must have got himself loose somehow. ‘It’s burning me up.’
‘Then you need to go home, Will. I’ll take you back to your house.’ Hannibal drew in the sight of Will, staring down at Cordell. He was still blinking slowly, like he was trying to understand the sight in front of him. ‘Just me. No one else.’
‘Someone set this in motion,’ Will said, his breathing laboured as he took in the sight of Hannibal, like he suddenly realised he was there. Hannibal stepped closer, close enough that the acidity of the scent burned his nose. ‘Someone tried to set me up.’
‘An inside job.’ He curled his hands over Will’s flushed cheeks. He could smell sweat, Cordell’s blood dripping from Will’s mouth and his scent warm, sweet and thick in the air. Will in heat was a new experience for Hannibal, although this was induced and would last no longer than twelve hours. Hungover tomorrow. Will managed the jazz club Hannibal owned, and he was always attentive; always present in the office when he wasn’t working overtime elsewhere. Hannibal would have to send someone else to check up on things for him. Now, he pushed back Will’s hair, fisting just lightly and fighting against the sensation of an unbonded omega before him. Teeth in Will’s violent throat. Subdue. Fuck. Breed. Will sighed, his eyes closing, his neck tilting just-so, just for Hannibal’s pleasure.
Hannibal steadied his hands, carefully zipping Will’s pants closed, frowning about the implications in the scene before him. Will was hard, but Hannibal just skimmed his knuckles over the covered flesh, making like the gasping sounds held little effect. He buckled his pants neatly, sliding the metal spike through the leather belt. His own arousal was growing hazy. He knew Will so intimately, but never in heat. It was tempting.
‘Let me drive you home.’
****
Abigail Hobbs walked as fast as she could away from campus. She was in trouble, and as hard as she had tried to force repentance, it just hadn’t come. She was fresh out of a meeting, one where she had been offered one more chance if she was willing to take the rest of the semester off. Sometimes omegas need a little more help, they told her. Time away was time to decompress. Time to think about her actions. Time for the latest spurned alpha to calm down at least. She hadn’t stolen anything from him this time. She had just threatened.
The car was parked in the spot she was asked to be picked up from. It was like middle school, only it wasn’t the wrath of her father she was having to deal with these days. He had kept her subdued and dutiful, but he’d been dead seven years now and she was fully grown. Abigail could hear her name being called faintly as she yanked on the door handle, the soles of her winter boots sliding on ice. The black door pulled open as she steadied herself, the scent of artificial vanilla and warm leather hitting her in the face and soothing her burning lungs.
Will Graham was staring at her wearily from behind the wheel. He was sharply dressed, blue suit and a black shirt beneath his overcoat. The last time she had seen him had been a few months back. It had been late, she had been creeping home from a friend’s house and he’d been sitting in the kitchen with Hannibal, a bottle of wine between them and his head on his arms as he laughed at something Hannibal said.
‘Are you on babysitting duty now?’ she asked, because she enjoyed seeing the tightness of his shoulders, the way his eyes flickered at the comment. She breathed deep as her heartrate slowed. ‘Hannibal working hard?’
‘He always does,’ Will said, his eyes moving instead over Abigail’s shoulder. She found herself jolting as someone tapped on the window. Abigail twisted her head to see Dr Bloom peering through the now wound-down window.
‘Abigail,’ Her voice was soft and gentle as she spoke, as if Abigail hadn’t darted from the meeting she’d personally arranged. ‘Think over what was said. What you’re doing is dangerous, you need to refocus your studies.’
‘I know,’ she said, trying for sweetness. It worked when she was younger. Not so much now. Alana held her face with concern, before her eyes swept over to Will. Abigail watched Alana study him, her brow raised as if in surprise. Her features cooled to neutrality. Perhaps she had been expecting Hannibal. They all knew he was her guardian. They all knew he owned half of Baltimore, and everyone that mattered.
‘I’m worried about you. This is abnormal behaviour.’ Alana’s voice cut down low. Her eyes were trying to engage, but Abigail was all out of care. She didn’t want to explain. Alphas didn’t. Beta men didn’t. Will, the weirdest omega she had ever met, he never explained a damn thing either. Dr Bloom was just a beta with a soft spot for omegas. She would never get it.
‘Are you her guardian?’ the car rumbled to life as Dr Bloom turned her attention to Will, his wrist twisting as he set the car into ignition. Abigail watched as an invisible tension seemed to tug between the two of them.
‘You already know that I’m not,’ Will said. ‘I’m due elsewhere. Can we wrap this up?’
‘I’d like to come see you, Abigail. Keep in touch. If you need—’
‘Help, yeah. I know.’ Abigail rolled the window up, waving brightly as Will pulled away from the edge of the road. Alana Bloom, Abigail’s appointed college therapist was left standing, hands shoved into her coat pockets as they tore away from campus.
‘Are you going to say anything?’ she asked when they had been driving for fifteen minutes. It was an hour-thirty back to Hannibal’s place, which meant that Will had specifically been asked pick her up. Deliver her back. He’d been the one to drop her off at college in the first place. He hadn’t hugged her goodbye, but he had given her a huge box of her favourite candy and a rape alarm.
‘It’s really not my place,’ Will said, changing lanes. She watched the way his fingers flexed and unfurled on the on the steering wheel. He was uncomfortable and trying to form the right words. Abigail was learning to read people, read their movements. Hannibal had told her to lean into her instincts that way, in the summer between boarding school and college.
‘He sent you so we could have an omega to omega chat. You’re the only other one he keeps company with,’ she smirked when she saw his fingers flex on the wheel again. ‘He barely keeps company with me.’
‘Omega to omega you’re being a fucking idiot.’
‘Omega to omega am I as much of an idiot as you are? At least I don’t screw around with an unmated alpha.’ She laughed at the reaction; the pull of the car as he tore through the lanes, overtaking before he got to their exit. The anger was burning him up, but he wouldn’t do anything about it. She watched his reaction the way Hannibal would. She watched the breath he took in, and then as he slowed down to a reasonable speed, the way his breath unspooled the tension in his body.
‘I think we’re both idiots,’ he said eventually. ‘But if you’re going to screw with the system you have to make sure it doesn’t screw you back.’
‘Is that something I need to be taught or are you going to tell me?’ She asked, and noticed the weary expression fold up onto his features again. All she had done was pursue smug alphas on campus through social media. When they came over to spend some time getting to know an omega she knocked them out with booze and sleeping tablets and stole their money. Usually the embarrassment of being semi catfished and audaciously robbed by an omega was enough to keep them quiet. The last one had admitted it all to his daddy and got her into trouble.
‘I just mean that you’re being watched. Not just by the school. Other people are going to be interested because of your association to Hannibal. You need to behave.’ It wasn’t much of a dress down and he was hardly one to talk. She knew what Will did for Hannibal. He was on the books at the manager of the jazz club, but that wasn’t the half of it. He was, however, the only one to ever show her decency. She wasn’t sure if it was their shared status or something else. Hannibal’s inner circle was mainly alpha with a few beta males for show. She didn’t really like being in the house if Will wasn’t there.
The silence was mainly companionable once he stopped arguing with her about changing the radio station. They settled on 70’s rock – neither of their favourite, but she didn’t want to argue with him anymore. By the time he pulled up to the gates of Hannibal’s house, she was dreading going inside. She knew he wasn’t stopping because he hadn’t swung into the driveway. She’d have to face Hannibal alone.
‘Can we talk later?’ She asked. ‘Like about stuff.’
‘Stuff?’ His eyebrows raised in amusement. ‘Depends on what the stuff is. There are other omegas. Or Dr Bloom.’
‘We’re alike, you and me. I want to be like you,’ she said, turning in her seat to look at him. ‘No rules. No need for an alpha. I get to play with them. I like playing with them. You should see what they look like when they realise I’ve taken everything from them. They’d rape me if I didn’t put out, if I didn’t blackmail them. You know how it goes.’
‘Right.’ Her comment had made him uncomfortable; she could see it in how his shoulders had drawn into a rigid line beneath his woollen coat. ‘I still think there are other omegas you could talk to about this. I’m not good at the soft stuff.’
‘Maybe.’ She looked at him and smiled, despite the nerves inside. Male omegas were meant to be even more into their feelings than the female counterparts, but Will always seemed to shut her down when she tried going deep with him. ‘How pissed is Hannibal?’
‘You might be surprised. Get out. I can’t be late.’ She wondered where he was going. She wished she could go with him, just to see him in the moment. Sometimes he would stay over, down in Hannibal’s suite on the ground floor and that was the only time she had scented him outside of his general gentle scent. Technically she wasn’t allowed in there, but Hannibal encouraged her curiosity. She knew the code. She could smell omega in the bedroom. She wanted to smell like that for someone too. For it to be illicit and exciting. Hidden away in bedrooms and removed everywhere else. So that no one knew what she really smelled like. So that no one would dare to ask.
Abigail looked up at the house once Will had driven off. It was a tall, bricked building with large windows and a gated entrance. It only added to her feelings of anticipation. She wondered sometimes if he bought the house just for how imposing it was. It had a front door that she had to forcibly push open with two hands. The doors opened onto a hallway, a large staircase directly in front of her. Either side were two living rooms, the one on the left lead through to Hannibal’s private suite. She walked through the one to the right; it led into the opulent dining room, and then further into the dark and shining kitchen.
She thought she might have found Hannibal there. He was home, Will had told him as much. And if he wasn’t working, if he hadn’t retired to his suite; then he would be in the kitchen. She remembered last Christmas; Hannibal always hosted a grandiose party on Christmas Eve. She’d sat on the stairs with Will, the two of them seeking quiet from the incessant socialising. Hannibal had been in the kitchen all night, talking music and culture and all the smart things that she had never been interested in.
Will had split his whiskey with her, even though she was underage, and didn’t like the taste. One of the young alpha men that was always sniffing around on the outskirts of Hannibal’s inner circle was eyeing her up. Will had sat purposely beside her all night so that he wouldn’t approach. Will was omega, which made him deferential, but he had Hannibal’s ear and that scared most of them off.
Outside it was starting to snow, covering the ground for the season. She stared at the back garden, at the white blanket building from the ground up, and took in a breath. She wondered how angry Hannibal was. Education was important. That’s what he had told her before she left for college last year. They weren’t real family, but he was all that she had. He’d killed her father after a betrayal and taken her in aged twelve. Shipped her off to boarding school where she was raised to be a decent and painfully bland young woman. She was taught what an omega should be like. She remembered the day she first met Will. She was fifteen and miserable. When she found out his status, she realised dutiful and decent were worlds away from what she actually wanted. She could be something else. She could be like him.
Abigail walked around the black island, extravagant in the middle of the kitchen and found her way to the other side of the house. The black heavy door to Hannibal’s private suite was closed, but she could hear music playing from his office directly above her.
She climbed the stairs to the first floor. Her bedroom was along the hallway, along with a living room with a large TV that didn’t get much viewing, a couple of guest bedrooms and Hannibal’s work office. She stood outside for a moment before pushing it open, swallowing down her nerves.
‘Abigail.’ Hannibal looked up from his desk. He was in shirt sleeves and a waistcoat. A fussy tie knotted at his throat. She took a seat opposite and waited for the berating. Her hands fidgeted nervously between her tight knees, but she put to a brave face. She half wished Will was around. She would always fear Hannibal a little, knowing how he had killed her father.
There was something of a wry smile on his face rather than disappointment. ‘You’ve been a naughty girl.’
‘Is it wrong to lead someone down the path they were already heading?’ she leaned back in her chair and watched a small smile play on his lips. He was impressed whereas Will had been weary. Suddenly any fear that she had of his reaction dissipated. Maybe it was the scent of him, rich and heady. Maybe it was that she remembered how often he had pressed on her curiosity in the past. ‘That alpha would have taken what he wanted.’
‘If you’re going to blackmail an alpha for their money, I would suggest you don’t get caught in the process next time,’ he said lightly. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes alight. There was a soothing swell her chest like she used to get with her alpha father when she had pleased him. ‘You’ve plenty to learn.’
‘I don’t want to go back to school. I want to be here.’ She was a psychology student. A half semester into her second year. The classes were filled with omegas, all of them desperate to understand their psyche, but Abigail just wanted to play. She wanted the power. Wanted to unarm people like Will.
‘You need to finish school,’ he said, eyes scanning hers. He wasn’t angry at all, she realised. He was watching her as she watched him. Will was like that too.
‘Finish school and find an alpha?’ She was young and pretty and had a womb so what else could she do? Dr Bloom was there, with her keen interest in omega rights, in fighting for equality but with alphas like Hannibal always pulling the strings what else was there? They weren’t that far removed from arranged marriages. Male omegas had it worse, the freakiest of the bunch, the rarest. At least she didn’t have it that bad.
‘An alpha? You have time for that business later. First finish school. Then a career.’ Hannibal’s long fingers splayed on the smooth sheen of his desk. Neat nails tapping a gentle rhythm. She watched, half entranced. ‘Do you have plans for the future?’
‘I want to be like Will,’ she said, watching the way he sat back in his chair, his fingers stilling. His eyes seemed to glisten with interest. ‘He’s his own person. He gets to do what he wants.’
‘Within reason.’
‘Within your reason?’ She tilted her head, studying him. They were playing again, she could hear the lightness in his tone. She listened.
‘Within the reasons that he has set out.’ Hannibal paused. His hands folded in the middle of the desk as he studied her. ‘You wish to work for me like Will?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled at him, wondering where the anger was and why she had expected it in her first place. His anger was usually fed through Will, who did his bidding. Everyone knew that. Everyone that knew anything about Hannibal Lecter’s dealings knew they were in for something horrific if Will came knocking. ‘Can I? I’ve been suspended for the semester. I have time to learn.’
****
Hannibal Lecter invested in assets. He didn’t invest in friendship; he had never really seen the point. He invested his money, his resources, his wide insidious network of wealthy alphas desperate for power, for wealth, for notoriety. It was a well-oiled machine.
He helped the mayor win the most recent election.
He helped a banker cover his tracks after an obscene amount of money went missing.
He helped take over several properties that were in dire need of rebranding and management. (The previous owners were suitably complimentary in the press regarding the change in ownership.)
Hannibal was powerful and he was alpha. He had the ear of some of the most respected and powerful people in the Baltimore, and they had their hand in his wallet if he so desired. He was charitable until he wasn’t; when rudeness disturbed his status quo.
The ultimate humiliation for an alpha would always be harm at the hands of someone from a lower status. A lowly and soft omega cutting their fingers off one by one, gutting them like fish when their screams became mundane and monotonous? The thought made Hannibal lips curl into a delighted grin. Will could be feral when he needed to.
Will was neither lowly or soft, but he was omega and his bloodlust and thirst seemed tightly connected to his status. Hannibal could have persuaded him to bond when their paths first crossed, but male omegas could lose so much of themselves when mated. Will’s differences were what made him interesting; what made him savage.
Hannibal’s men were all unmated alphas. They were young, virile. Wound up and easy to train. When he finally lost them to a mate he replaced them with ease. There were always so many men eager to work for him, for the chance of glory, of violence, of power. They enjoyed the comradery, they enjoyed the dark scent of Will when he brushed past them, never looking them in the eye, never thinking to.
Hannibal had been in meetings all afternoon. He chaired a board meeting regarding equipment he had purchased for the local hospital. It had been paid for and sponsored by his own charity, his own money, and therefore it was on his terms how it was best used. His attorneys made sure of it. He spoke with a young man that had twisted himself into a web of lies and grasped Hannibal’s hand in a deal that he had no way of backing out of. He had dinner in the restaurant he owned downtown, alone, with his eyes on the customers in front of him. He preferred it that way. All the while he thought of Abigail, of what she had said to him in his office earlier that day. She was changing, ready to be changed.
Late that night he found Will sitting on the furthest corner of his bed when he walked through the private suit and to his bedroom, his house closed up for the night and his men sent home. His suite was sacred ground; a private office, a large dark bedroom leading into a roomy ensuite. No one was allowed in without his permission. Will had never asked for permission.
His suit jacket was sprawled onto the dark leather chair in the corner, his shoes tucked neatly beneath it. He was peeling the watch from his wrist when he looked up to see Hannibal staring at him. He wasn’t granted a smile. Will had a room upstairs, across the spiralled landing looking out to the front of the house, but he rarely slept there. He was either warming Hannibal’s bed or driving back to his own house, a sad little thing in the middle of the woods. Hannibal had only been inside one time, after the incident six weeks back.
‘Abigail,’ Will said, looking up for answers before they could even start on polite conversation. Hannibal had hoped to abort that conversation for a day or so. ‘What are you doing about her?’
‘She wants to be just like you,’ Hannibal mused, disliking the accusatory tone in Will’s voice. Abigail was Hannibal’s responsibility through the death of her father, but he’d much rather guide her than raise her firmly like Will would insist.
‘She’s nineteen. She doesn’t know what she fucking wants,’ Will said. His brow furrowed and his hands slid into his own hair. Hannibal watched the internal struggle with curiosity. He understood more about Will than anybody but at times he was aware of secrets buried so deep, he wondered if they would ever resurface.
‘Did you get what you wanted when you were nineteen?’ Hannibal asked, mostly to needle. Will was a closed book from before their first meeting. Dulled by suppressants but weaned off them when he had decided to work for Hannibal. He had allowed himself to be trained up, to use his natural instincts to fight his own battles. No children, no bond. Nothing to tie him to anywhere or anything. A guy who was a cop until he wasn’t, until Hannibal stripped him free of the suppressants, of the anger, until he built him up to the masterpiece he was now.
‘Did you?’ Will clipped back, eyes sliding away when he caught the smirk that peeled onto Hannibal’s lips. Hannibal started to undress, breathing slow and deep. Will’s scent was emanating sweetly. He’d sweated away his cologne throughout the day and Hannibal had a keen nose. Will’s perceptive glance watched him from his position on the bed.
Will was on birth control, washed with a scent neutralizer every morning, and doused himself with an expensive cologne that Hannibal had gifted him. The dark notes matched his natural scent, heightened during spikes in his hormones. Hannibal felt the biological pull to bond with him, but they’d fought against their instincts. It was far more fun to play like this.
‘I presume you’ll be taking a leave of absence soon,’ Hannibal said, changing the subject. He stood in front of his closet, carefully unbuttoning his shirt, studying the tired reflection of the man on the bed. Will was still stooped over the side, elbows on his knees. He tilted his head up in Hannibal’s direction, eyes scanning until his lips finally tilted into a smile. He rolled onto his back, hands falling neatly on his stomach.
‘Bloodlust was getting to me tonight,’ Will admitted. Hannibal had sent him out to convince a wavering participant to stay in the safe house Hannibal had set up for him. Hannibal had been tight on telling Will the facts, it made the torture easier. Though with the prickle of his heat looming he was a lot easier to persuade. Hannibal appreciated a bloodhound that didn’t need checking up on. ‘You can smell it already?’
Hannibal laid beside him on the bed. He was an unmated alpha tamed by an unmated omega, one that had walked into his private rooms and laid out on the bed, his gentle scent starting to spread over the sheets. The audacity cooled Hannibal, a relieving chill against the heady scent Will was emanating. He didn’t tilt his neck towards Hannibal but allowed Hannibal’s hand to rest atop of his on his stomach, their fingers linking autonomously.
‘You could stay here. You know that wouldn’t be an issue for me.’ They had shared that one heat together; the artificial one that Verger had sent him into. It wasn’t real, hadn’t lasted past the one time Hannibal knotted him, but it had felt real at the time. He’d bitten through the collar of Will’s shirt to stop himself piercing skin.
‘Of course not. What alpha wouldn’t want an omega begging for their knot and teeth in their neck.’ Hannibal allowed himself the pleasure of imagining it. There was a surface attractiveness to it, even if he couldn’t quite indulge himself in thinking of Will that way. He was strong-willed but brittle. Hannibal enjoyed watching him snap from time to time, enjoyed the moments when Will allowed him to pick up the pieces in the privacy of his rooms.
‘I don’t see it that way,’ Hannibal said, knowing that simplicity worked best when Will was wired like this.
‘I do.’ Will swallowed. ‘And all of this-' his finger waved between them, ‘would become nothing but me being your little bitch to breed and-‘
‘Shh.’ Hannibal had heard enough. Had heard it all before and Will could get particularly nasty this side of his heat. It was hardly worth arguing over. ‘You’ll be in the throes of it by tomorrow evening I imagine.’
‘Fuck.’ Hannibal wasn’t sure whether the cursing was at his prediction or the hand stroking over the front of Will’s pants. Just the light trace of a finger against the shape if his cock. He looked down at Will, cheeks flushed, lip tucked between white teeth until he was able to speak again. ‘Verger is going to be at the opera tomorrow night. Did you know? You need—’
Will stopped talking when Hannibal’s hand peeled down the teeth of his zipper and curled around his cock. Hannibal briefly took in the announcement. Mason wasn’t one to enjoy opera; he preferred to be centre of attention at every moment, which meant he was only there to gain access to Hannibal’s ear. A threat, he imagined. Cordell was a big loss.
‘I’ll take Abigail with me. Her curiosity is worth paying an interest in.’ Hannibal pulled his hand away and leaned over. Will’s phone was resting beside his watch on the nightstand. Hands tugged at his waist as he set a timer on Will’s phone. He was pulled down for a wet kiss, an edge of desperation that had his body reacting. Hannibal didn’t like the idea of caving to his own biological whims anymore that Will did, but an omega beneath him, scenting and so close to their heat was hard to resist. ‘No talk of work until the timer is up.’
‘We don’t have to talk about anything,’ Will said, hands fisted tight in Hannibal’s hair. ‘Just fuck me.’
Will was still there the next morning when the alarm had gone off, a warm weight pressed against Hannibal’s back as they stirred. He was slower in his movements. He took a shower, used the shampoo that Hannibal left out for him and dressed in the same clothes as the night before. He refused to keep any of his clothes down here.
Breakfast was simple; sausage, eggs and coffee. Hannibal could hear Abigail moving around upstairs, but it was still too early for her to grace them with her presence. Despite his shower, Will was scenting stronger than normal, his heat fast approaching and warming the air. Hannibal tried to feed him up with more protein, to keep him well fed before his heat took over.
‘I always crave cereal before,’ Will said lightly, gifting Hannibal with the tiniest slither of insight into his true heat. He would lock himself up in that little house in the woods and see it out by himself. ‘I want sugar not protein.’
‘I’d suggest you reapply your neutraliser if you plan on going anywhere but home.’ Hannibal studied the stony look he received as Will drank his coffee and poked at the eggs. A pre-heat omega was tempting to unmated alpha’s; could send them rutting. Part of Hannibal would love to see them try. After what had happened with Cordell, Hannibal was under no illusions of Will’s tenacity even when compromised by his hormones.
‘Be careful tonight. Mason is up to something and that makes him dangerous,’ Will changed the subject, no longer able to maintain eye contact. His cheeks held a biological flush and Hannibal found himself watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. He was affected already by being in Hannibal’s presence. ‘Is it wise to take Abigail?’
‘Will.’ Hannibal grabbed his wrist and watched the flutter of his eyelashes, felt the dance of his heartbeat quickening at his pulse point. Will had schooled his body to remain taut, but he couldn’t stop the smaller things. It was stirring something up in Hannibal too. ‘Look after yourself. Call me when you’ve finished.’
‘I need to finish a few things at the club,’ Will said. He would feel better once he was out of Hannibal’s house, away from the scent and influence of an unmated alpha, and at this time of the morning there would be no one else around at the club to interfere. ‘Don’t fuck anything up. Don’t fuck it up with Verger. Something about this puts me on edge.’
‘I’m going to enjoy the opera. He will be only a small part of the evening.’ One day he’d like to take Will. Take him and have people wonder why his bloodhound was beside him. An alpha and omega professional not personal, not until the doors were locked and bolted.
‘Enjoy the opera, then,’ Will said, managing a tight smile. He poured his half-finished eggs into the bin and dropped his plate into the sink. There was no one else around, no Abigail, not other associates. He could lean in for a kiss. He’d certainly been desperate enough for some last night. Hannibal had listened to the desperate panting when he’d moved inside Will, could play it back gasp for gasp in his head. He kept the width of the kitchen island apart now.
‘Goodbye Will.’
Hannibal met Abigail on his way out. She was fresh-faced and lively with a good night’s sleep behind her, dark hair hanging in wet strands across her shoulders. Her nose flared, catching Will’s scent that hung in the air. When she smirked, he granted her one back. Will wholly underestimated her.
‘I want to speak with him. Is he still here?’
‘You’ll have to be a little more precise, Abigail,’ he told her, guiding her to the kitchen where coffee was still sitting in the pot. Hannibal’s wariness over taking on a child had peeled back to reveal a natural curiosity. She had been meek at first, the devious side hidden behind genuine grief for her father. Recently she had revealed herself to him more and more and he enjoyed what he had seen.
He had kept a close eye on her through Will because they were both omegas and she needed one of power to guide her. And because Will had no one, just as Hannibal had no one, as Abigail had no one. It was the tightest bond they had.
Abigail had proven particularly cunning a few months into her college stay with her odd pursuing of alphas for their money through blackmail. A useless psychology degree was paving the way for her to assess her peers, to see where she wanted to stand in the world. Beside him would be preferable. He would need someone to hand the business over to one day.
‘Will he be back later?’ He watched her pour a large mug of coffee, even as his phone vibrated in his pocket. Soon the house would be filled with men that worked for him, watched over him and his business. Alphas, though they wouldn’t touch Abigail, not if they wanted to survive.
‘Not for a few days.’ Hannibal saw the shadows by the front door as he stood in his foyer. His driver had arrived to take him to his next meeting with a city councillor who need Hannibal’s help, and his money. Tobias, his pernicious lawyer would be meeting him there. He watched Abigail drop down into the same seat Will had been perched on not twenty minutes before. ‘We’re off to the opera tonight. I'll have a dress ready for you.’
‘The opera?’ she looked horrified before her gaze cleared and she realised that opera didn’t necessarily mean for the entertainment of it. Business happened everywhere. Her mouth peeled into a grin. Far too much enthusiasm. She’d need to calm that down.
Abigail waited until the house was cleared. Hannibal was going to be in meetings all day, whatever that meant. She knew that he owned people, in the way that he had money and he was willing to share it around for access, for stakes, for property. She knew that he owned a French restaurant downtown, an art gallery, and the jazz club that Will managed. He knew powerful people because he was powerful. Abigail knew that when other powerful, ambitious men took too much of a liking to his business plan that they were quieted in a way that stopped them talking. She knew that Will was his silencer. She knew that her father had been killed for stealing money from Hannibal, for washing it through his business.
She knew where Will lived because she has seen his ID in his wallet one time. If he smelled the way he did that morning and he was going away for a few days that meant his heat was coming. She was omega too. She could be with him while other people couldn’t. He’d find it harder to lie, he’d have nowhere else to run. She just wanted to talk to him, to know what it was really like to be him.
Hannibal had gifted her a sleek black Jeep a few years ago. She climbed into it and pulled off, aware of another following her. One of Hannibal’s men set to follow her every move when she was under his watch. They would steer clear of Will’s place. They were alphas, and Will wasn’t bonded to Hannibal, but he belonged to him as an employee. Will ranked higher, was better respected to Hannibal’s face at least.
Will lived in the middle of nowhere. Through a clearing of trees and into an exposed area was a little white house. It looked, she thought, like somewhere a family should live. An alpha and omega and their two cute kids. Maybe a plain old beta couple. Not somewhere Hannibal’s favourite bloodhound should call home.
She parked up behind his car he used for work, as well as a rusted Volvo. She knocked on the screen door with the hand she didn’t have shoved into her pocket for warmth. It was icier out here, more exposed. She heard the rumbling of dogs barking even before the door opened and she was encircled by a cluster of furry hounds. She dropped down, losing count after the fifth one pawed at her, tumbling over onto their back for a belly rub. She indulged briefly before looking up.
Will didn’t look like himself at all. His hair was usually combed and styled to the side; his suits tailored to his slight build. Now his shower-damp hair curled up in all directions. He was in a tight white t-shirt and sweatpants. He was pushing on a pair of glasses as he opened the door. She wasn’t aware he wore them otherwise. He didn’t wear them around Hannibal.
‘Abigail… what are you doing here?’ he sounded a little sluggish, fresh from a nap or something similar. His eyes had taken on the shiny glaze hers did when heat came. God, it was a pain. She was thinking about suppressants.
She crossed her arms over her chest and stood upright. ‘I said I wanted to talk to you. You just dumped me at the gate yesterday and never came back.’
‘I can’t talk to you right now.’ Will whistled and his dogs who’d been rattling around her legs sprung to action and puttered behind him into the house.
‘You’re going into heat. I know what that’s like. Can I come in?’ He liked her, was rarely annoyed at her outside of his usual pissy nature. She knew that. And that’s why she could push his buttons, it’s why she had decided today would actually be a good day to have the conversation. He hesitated only briefly before stepping aside.
His house was light and airy, with floorboards that creaked as they walked over them. She walked from the main room into the wider space of the kitchen, hearing Will’s bare feet on the floor behind her. He’d been eating cereal, she realised, the kiddie stuff full of sugar. She had a sudden memory of being six and thrusting her hand into the sugary grains, grappling for the toy. She collected them on her windowsill. Little monsters of neon and plastic. They’d stayed there until her father’s death where Hannibal collected her and sent her off to boarding school. She hadn’t asked what had happened to her stuff.
‘I won’t stay long,’ she said, wondering how long it would take for the heat to take over. She generally had a few hours of pre-heat before two days of gasping loneliness. She had only been with one beta boy, someone from college, but not during her heat. That was sacred. Will didn’t seem to hold much about his status as sacred, but even he didn’t share them with anyone. He’d be mated otherwise.
‘I’d rather be alone if we’re being honest.’
‘I’m surprised Hannibal keeps you around if you’re not, you know, if you haven’t been fixed.’ She poked because she could. Will was probably working hard enough to keep the heat at bay that he had little hope of lying. A perfect opportunity to talk where he couldn’t cage up. ‘That’s dangerous.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ The brief glance in her direction suggested he knew exactly what she was talking about. She’d teased him about it only yesterday. Still he shovelled frosted cornflakes into his mouth and chewed so hard her own jaw ached in sympathy.
‘If you’re having heats it means you’re still intact. I know you’re not on suppressants. Which is dumb.’ She watched the ire fold over his face, how his tongue poked at his cheek as he assessed her words. Eventually his spoon dropped into his bowl with a clatter and he turned to look at her.
‘We’re careful. Birth control, sometimes condoms. If he knots I take Plan B. We don’t bite. We don’t share heats.’ Will waved a hand dismissively while Abigail looked on, unable to quite believe how honest he was being.
‘You let him knot you?’ Abigail didn’t mean to sound so accusatory, but Will was so rarely open with her. And she’d always been taught that you didn’t take a knot unless you were bonded. You could do it, but why would you? It was sacred. She imagined painful too.
‘Not always.’ His eyes darted towards her and then away. He didn’t look guilty, but she knew he had read her thought process. He was really good at reading her thought process. Male omegas were a bit like that, but he seemed unnervingly insightful at times. ‘Depends on how I feel.’
‘And he respects that?’
‘Would I still be there otherwise?’
‘Doesn’t matter if he’s an alpha. They don’t usually care.’
‘Have you ever—’ Will paused. His fingers were curled tight to his spoon again as he looked away, pressing flakes down into milk. ‘I’m sure the internet could answer all of these questions for you. You don’t need me to explain.’
‘Didn’t you ever want something else? Aren’t we supposed to want mates? Wouldn’t it make this part easier.’ She looked him over, at the curls of dark hair sticking to his forehead. ‘It’s not just about making babies these days if that’s what concerns you.’
‘You have to do what is right for you, Abigail. No one can make that decision for you.’ He’d blanked on the baby-making part, which was fair. As a male omega, rare as it was, it was even rarer to find one that wasn’t mated off with kids. Will wasn’t old, but most had popped a few out in their twenties. He’d turned thirty nearly two years ago.
‘We all want someone to look after us deep down, don’t we?’
‘I don’t think that’s something restricted by status,’ he told her. ‘Everyone wants someone to care about them.’
‘You should be on suppressants if you don’t want heats to be an issue.’ She was fake teasing because she could, because Will had always allowed it with her. When Hannibal would send her away to boarding school, Will would be the one to drive her up, let her unleash her angst at him. She was fully aware of his capabilities. That he wasn’t just the manager of a jazz club. He didn’t even like jazz. He’d told her that once.
‘Suppressants are depressants for me. They stop me thinking. They had me on a lot when I was a cop. Like having a brain wrapped in cotton.’ Some jobs it was still legally binding. Couldn’t have an omega running around needing protecting, with all of their hormones all over the place.
‘If I go on suppressants will it do the same?’ she asked. His face turned towards her. She knew it was him, and yet he seemed so different without the suits, with the glasses on his face and the uncombed hair. She wondered if Hannibal had ever seen him like this. It felt intimate, like he was without armour.
‘Everyone responds differently.’ A pause, his eyes evading hers. ‘Are you wanting to go on them?’
‘I wanna be like you. I want to hurt those that deserve it. I want to feel powerful even if people don’t think I am. No one thinks I am. They care more about the fact that Hannibal is my guardian and he’s dangerous.’ Will’s eyes were scanning her face even as he refused eye contact and she tried to stop the thrill showing so much. ‘I want them to stop because of me. I want to be dangerous.’
Will was staring at her, taking in her words. His processing had shut down as his pre-heat prickled at his skin, at the outskirts of his mind. She felt embarrassed with the truth sitting easily between them. That’s why she had been experimenting, sweetening up those alphas that expected something of her before she took what she wanted. Money mostly, drugs occasionally, but only to sell onto others. She just liked taking things from others because she could.
‘I think you should give normality a chance first. You’re still so young.’
‘What chance have I at normality? My dad was a thief. Hannibal killed him and wiped out his entire business because he stole from him. It’s not like I can just go out and live a normal life, so I want something else.’
‘Abigail… you don’t need to—'
‘He’s taking me to the opera tonight.’ She watched how Will’s entire body seemed to stiffen. Not a fan of Hannibal’s plan then. She wondered why. She tried to imagine how Hannibal had told him. Did they fight about it? Did they fight over her going? That stirred something up in her gut. ‘Why does that bother you?’
‘He’s meeting with Mason Verger,’ Will said. She noticed how his hair had yet to dry before it was dampening with sweat. She could see it staining his shirt between his shoulder blades where he was hunched over his bowl of cereal. He was fast approaching the thick of it. ‘He shouldn’t be taking you to that.’
‘Would you rather he took you?’ she teased. Goading Will was fun, especially when he had nowhere to run to. Will licked his damp lips, not looking to her but straight ahead instead, at the dated wallpaper of his kitchen.
‘I’m not sure if Verger believes half the shit he spouts or if it’s just to get a rise out of people but he’s of the anachronistic variety. Omegas should be filled and bred and not much else. We’ve…clashed. Hannibal wouldn’t be seen dead taking me as a date anywhere, he especially wouldn’t do it on a night he’s meeting with Mason.’
‘If Mason hates omegas so much, then why would Hannibal take me with him?’
‘Hannibal has a reason for doing everything. He won’t be doing this to put you at risk.’ Will looked at her again, pupils swallowing up the blue of his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, heat rising from his body so much that she could feel it burning next to him. ‘But that doesn’t mean you won’t come to harm.’
‘So I should be careful?’ something akin to excitement pulled in Abigail’s chest at the thought. Her dad had taught her how to hunt, but she wanted to learn from Will properly. How to kill. When he was through to the other side she’d beg him to show her.
‘Abigail, you should be careful. Whatever you do in life, with Hannibal or without. You have to be careful.’
Unnerved by the raw edge of his tone she tried to lighten the mood. ‘Omega to omega?’
‘Omega to omega.’ He pushed his bowl away. She could scent him more now than before, the dark perfumed scent was filling the room completely. She put her hand on his tight shoulder and squeezed. She liked being touched through her heats by her omega friends, she thought he’d be the same. He didn’t push her off, even when his muscles tensed.
‘Want me to stay and rub your back?’
‘I’m not starting a fucking heat sorority with you. Go make friends your own age and fuck off,’ he said, with little ammunition. When she laughed, he gave a flicker of a smile back too. It looked painful. ‘But be safe, Abigail. Be really careful tonight. Keep your mouth shut but your eyes open.’
****
Hannibal could smell Will on Abigail when he saw her later that day. He breathed it in as he stood in the doorway to her bedroom, watching her stare at her own reflection in the full-length mirror. He had bought Abigail a dress. A grown up and deep red thing that bought out the red flecks in his own suit. People would be looking and noticing her. A daughter. And omega daughter visible to all. She wanted to be seen.
‘How is he?’ Hannibal asked casually, knowing that Abigail couldn’t resist the chance to talk about it.
‘A bitch, but he’s like that anyway,’ she said, the sweep of her dark hair up and away from her neck elongated the pale curve. She was almost translucent, as if she spent as little time as possible out in the sun. He didn’t approve of her language, but he didn’t chide her for it either. ‘He’s not happy that you’re sending me tonight.’
‘I don’t imagine he is.’
‘He also said you always have more than one reason for doing anything so I should trust your judgement all the same.’
‘Quite right.’
‘Mason hates omegas.’ She looked at him, the blue flash of her eyes and the confident tilt of her chin turning towards him. ‘Whoever he is.’
‘Mason presses on those that he considers beneath him. Will pushed him to his limits last time.’ He inhaled the scent of her. A little sweeter. She’d soon be asking to go on suppressants, he knew the route she was wanting to go down. ‘Did he have anything else to say?’
‘Only that he thinks I’m wasting my life,’ she looked over at him and smiled. She was trying to both please and play along. For now it amused him, and she would provide useful in time, he was almost certain of it.
‘We shall see.’
Hannibal had a private box where they would enjoy the show. Abigail was tense and taut against him, her eyes darting around, her thin arm slotted into the rook of his elbow. Her confidence seemed at odds with her insecurity. He wasn’t sure whether it was her youth or her psyche that had her in a spin. She was perhaps unused to being stared at.
Hannibal tried to ignore Abigail’s incessant fidgeting through the first half. He closed his eyes to listen. It wasn’t his favourite performance of Rigoletto, but it wasn’t bad enough to ruin the evening. When the lights came up during the interval, Hannibal sensed a presence over his shoulder. One mouth to his ear informed him that Mason was waiting for him in a private room. Fifteen minutes until the second act. He nodded his head and looked over at Abigail whose blues eyes were wide-eyed and alert.
‘Well, we mustn’t keep him any longer than possible,’ he said, standing and holding his hand out for Abigail. She seemed surprised that he was taking her with him. She deserved to hear what Will had done, and the effects of it.
‘Hannibal Lecter,’ Mason’s nasal voice carried loudly, even as the door was closed behind them. Hannibal’s personal guard stood at the door, Abigail close beside Hannibal as they came before Mason. He was holding a glass champagne and sipping it distastefully. He was a man of particular taste. Very little appealed to him.
‘Such a pity about Cordell,’ Hannibal said lightly, scanning the man to the right of Mason. Not Cordell. His replacement was fifteen years younger and stocky with muscle. Alpha. He’d be hard to take on in a fight. Cordell had been a talker, which had ultimately been his downfall. ‘My regards to the family. I presume it was a closed casket.’
‘I see you traded the bitch up,’ Verger said, eyes on Abigail. Mainly on her tight red dress, her bare shoulders and slender neck. ‘A younger model. Looks better in a dress, I’m sure.’
‘Will is resting up. He earned it after his performance last night.’ Hannibal allowed a lazy smile to fall on his lips, letting the gaps in his comment fall over both Abigail and Mason. It was crude, but to the point. He leaned his hand on Abigail’s shoulder and asked her to fetch them some drinks and meet him back in their box.
‘An honour to meet you, Abigail,’ Mason said as she departed. She looked annoyed at being dismissed, but she knew better than to argue with him and left the room in a flash of red.
‘My surrogate daughter. The Hobbs’ child,’ Hannibal explained, taking a step closer.
‘You’re collecting omegas, Hannibal,’ Mason mused lightly, uninterested. ‘You can keep your money, but you’ll pay for what you did. Consider this a warning.’
One head tilt and an amused expression towards Verger simply had the other’s man’s nostril’s flaring. ‘And what am I being warned about?’
‘Mr Graham will pay for his treatment of me. And you will pay me back what I am owed. You went back on your promise of investing in me. The cost of Cordell’s funeral was bad enough.’ Verger’s voice rose, as if in horror. ‘I want my money, Lecter.’
‘I think dear Cordell paid wonderfully for his treatment of Will. Enough for us to call a truce, surely? Will’s behaviour was hardly unreasonable considering the evening you had planned for him.’
‘You have to keep the bitches tied up, a lesson Cordell didn’t remember. Do you tie him up? The one in the red dress, do you tie her up as well? Not quite as special, are they? Female omegas. But they do the job just fine.’
There was little else to say on the matter. Verger had turned a brilliant red as Hannibal stood there in front of him, not saying a word. He waited until he heard the five minute warning and said goodbye to Mason, who punctuated the closure with verbal threats until the shrill ring of his phone in his pocket distracted him.
‘What exactly happened with Mason?’ Abigail was full of questions on the way home. Her eyes were burning bright, her cheeks flushed. She seemed high on the experience even if the show had bored her to tears. Perhaps it was the champagne that she had been throwing back a little too hastily.
‘Mason wanted money to help front a business venture. I agreed, until I realised that the money was in fact being used to fund a drug trial. When I pulled out of the agreement his men kidnapped Will and tried the drug out on him.’ In layman’s terms those were the details. Hannibal had seen the guinea pigs for the trial, the betas and omegas pumped full of toxic hormones until he’d hit jackpot with the cocktail. Hannibal had always considered the pharmaceutical trade to be beneath his business model. He particularly didn’t like the idea of being duped by someone such as Verger.
‘And Cordell? Why did Will kill him?’
‘He was Verger’s employee. A limpid beta. He got handsy with Will and Will got violent in response.’
‘Handsy?’
‘Will does not take keenly to being touched. I’m sure you’re aware.’
‘But why Will and not you?’ The questions were good. Hannibal smiled at her until her confidence grew. Her thin legs crossed in the back of the car; one knee hooked over the other.
‘Will had caught Mason’s attention on a separate occasion. He wanted to mate with him to get back at me and further the Verger bloodline. Will did not take kindly to his supposed role and Cordell paid the price.’
‘Sounds like he deserved it,’ she said. Her eyes suddenly lost the light, the adrenaline turning to something more akin to exhaustion. She was satisfied with his answers, and he was well aware that she had spent most of the day snooping – between Will and himself. He gave her a tight smile and a gentle squeeze of the shoulder, before he turned his gaze outwards, to look at his city glowing in the night.
****
No one said a damn thing when Will was back in his office a day later. His heat hadn’t come to a head. He had napped after Abigail had left him, the pre-heat prickling at his skull. He’d fed the dogs and kept them downstairs with food and water. He stayed upstairs in his bedroom, in the bed that he refused to turn into a nest. One blanket over the comforter, a pillow for each side of the double bed. Restrained.
But he hadn’t awoken with the usual brain-melting hunger for something, for someone, for an alpha. He’d woken up with a headache from all the sugar; a cramping stomach and a clearer mind than what he’d begun the day with.
The rest of the day he had spent relieved. Heats were an annoying fact of life, one that he had to suffer through in order to remain off suppressants. Worth it to have his mind his own, but he was grateful. Grateful to be able to feed himself, to take his dogs out for a walk, wrapped up warm with the ice wind biting his cheeks. Pleased to be able to go to bed in the same sheets he’d started the day in.
The anxiety came the next day. When he realised that he had been regular ever since his heats had first started. The last time they had been cut short had been when Hannibal had weaned him off the suppressants. He’d been feverish. Hospitalised from withdrawal. He’d come out the other side a new man.
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind once he was at work. He liked the routine of working in the club. He didn’t understand jazz and he didn’t like the oozing of bodies that swam through the club every night, but he liked it during the day in his cool office. He liked watching from the balcony as the staff worked, prepping for another night. It took his mind away from everything else.
Now he felt nausea pricking at his insides, a churning in the pit of his stomach when he had barely eaten a thing. Matthew had been lurking down at the bar, eyes fixed on Will when he’d seen him walk across the balcony to the office. Now he sat behind his desk, with the door firmly closed and tried to orient himself. He hadn’t spoken to Hannibal, but it would get back to him that Will was at work. Matthew would make sure of that.
One week later and Will sat in a clinical waiting room, waiting for his name to be called. He couldn’t stop the twitching of his knees, not even when he laid his own damp palms over them. Not even when he tried to breathe through the panic. Hannibal had access to the best doctors, ones that had stitched Will up on occasion, but this was different. Those doctors were owned by Hannibal. He couldn’t risk a tattletale. Hannibal at the very least respected that Will needed to keep things separate. They were not bonded and therefore Will was within his rights to seek medical advice on his accord.
There was a ping from the electronic role call in the waiting room and he watched is name light up the screen. He read the room number and stood to his feet; fingers bunched in his pockets, nails catching to the palm. He was in his glasses, his expensive suits left at home. Armour adjusted for the scenario ahead of him.
The doctor was a pretty if plain beta woman with the tone of voice that was neither friendly or hostile. Clipped. She had him taking his jacket off, wrapping the blood pressure band over his bicep before he’d had a chance to even think about what he was trying to say.
‘I had an aborted heat,’ he said. He’d have to work with half-truths with her. ‘Preheat was as normal. Thought I’d wake up in the throes of it, but I just woke up with a headache and clarity.’
‘Has this happened before?’ Will didn’t respond to that and just shrugged before she prompted him again.
‘I wouldn’t be here otherwise, doctor,’ he said. He saw the tightness of her expression and relented, rubbing at his eyes behind his glasses. ‘I’m regular to the hour normally.’
‘Unbonded.’
‘My notes don’t need updating in that regard.’ She was trying to pry the lid open to see the darkness underneath, but he bit his tongue. This is why he hated doctors.
‘But you are sexually active.’
‘Where are you going with this, doctor?’ He asked instead, watching the tightness of the blood pressure band around his bicep. It needed reading twice, but it was high. He was omega. Their blood pressure ran high and his life wasn’t without stress. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his temple, his stomach starting to cripple with anxiety. She took blood from him, and he looked down as the vial filled.
‘I’ve read through your notes, Mr Graham.’ He watched her move around the room, back towards him as she tested his blood. He let her words wash over him, assessing them before he realised what she was implying.
‘Is that a threat?’ Will felt his voice clip, saw the way her eyes flicked up. She was beta. Nothing special there. No bias. Alphas were banned, of course, from specialised clinics dealing in omegas. They hadn’t been when he was a kid, but he blinked the thought away.
‘It is a warning. You have been in this position before and it didn’t end well.’
Aware of the implications as to what it was that she was inferring, he suddenly felt the air become a little thicker: bias apparently existed everywhere. He stared down at her hands when she came back over to him. She was young, unmarried by the nakedness of her fingers. He wondered if she had a family.
‘No. I’m not,’ he insisted before she could even verbalise her thoughts. He tried to work on dates but found his mind fogging with the panic of it all. His eyes closed to the bright room, the black of his eyelids calming. ‘We’re careful. More than careful.’
His brain worked through the calculations. The last time it had been unprotected was the night he’d killed Cordell. Before the heat had taken over he had enticed Cordell between his legs, begged for him until the beta was close enough for Will to rip apart with his own teeth. His mouth filled with the red of Cordell’s blood when Hannibal had found him, picking flesh and cartilage from his teeth. They had kissed in the car. It had been in his house, on his kitchen floor. Forehead to tile. He’d begged. He’d slept for three days after. Hannibal had covered for him. Said he was indisposed. They’d cut the camera to make it look like he’d been sitting there in his favoured seat. Planted alibis in the staff. They hadn’t spoken of it since.
‘Oh fuck,’ he said. He usually took emergency contraception when Hannibal knotted. They’d not used condoms in a long time. But he hadn’t thought to at that point. He’d just wanted to ignore the entire humiliating event. ‘Is there a test we should run?’
‘I’ve just run it,’ she said, in a tone that suggested he should have known that. His arm ached slightly from where she had drawn blood. ‘You should bond.’
‘I can’t,’ he said. There was more he could have said, but he decided against it. It wasn’t for her to know.
‘Why can’t you?’ the question was so simple that Will wanted to laugh. It worsened when she leaned over to him, moving to place her hand on him. He squirmed away and jammed his hands between his knees instead. ‘Does he hurt you?’
‘Nope.’ He swallowed. Last night Will had squeezed a metal vice around the dominant hand of the motherfucker who had grassed to the cops about a pick-up point. He’d listened as bones popped and skin split and his heartbeat hadn’t spiked once. The sound of screams pierced his ears. He’d vomited afterward, the nausea that hadn’t left all week had been the thing that had sent him here in the first place. Will tried a lie he’d used previously, at another appointment with another inference that he wasn’t getting any younger. ‘He’s married.’
There was a raise of an eyebrow. Subtle, but Will picked up on it all the same. ‘To another omega?’
‘Sure.’ Will ground his teeth down between his words, the lies falling easily into place. Pity at him, horror at an alpha fattening his knot outside of a bond. Better than the reality. Better than Will playing games and Hannibal playing them right back and them both getting burned in the process. ‘I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.’
‘You have options.’ The doctor looked him up and down. His shabby coat, his hair that he hadn’t bothered to comb. The glasses that didn’t seem quite in place with the rest of him.
‘You sound very sure about that, Doctor,’ he said, pushing his arms into his jacket. He wanted a shower. He wanted to reverse time and forget the symptoms that had driven him here in the first place. The sickness. The aborted heat.
‘I’m going to have to refer you for a psych evaluation. It’s compulsory in this State for unbonded omegas in your situation.’
‘My situation.’
‘Congratulations, Mr Graham,’ she said, voice rather flat as she explained she was writing a script for pre-natal vitamins and iron tablets. ‘You’re pregnant. I’m sending through a referral to a psychiatrist. They’ll be able to help you through the process.’
Will sat uneasy in the chair. He felt heavy with despair, swallowing it down thickly and trying to block out the worst of his predicament. ‘What process would that be?’
‘The one where you discuss your options.’ As he sat back down she talked him through it. Will wasn’t mated, wasn’t even in a relationship. Male omegas needed guidance if they were alone. ‘It’s required by the State. Every unmated omega goes through the same process. By law you are required and granted a psychiatrist. It’s just to offer you stability.’
‘Run the test again,’ he said, swallowing down the indignity at her comment. ‘Run the test again so I can be sure.’