Chapter Text
He was nothing more than a Beta, barely even a King of Ithaca. He had the audacity to blind my son, a Cyclops. And yet, for all his bravado, the man wanted peace instead of ruthlessness. How laughable. The moment he met me with open arms, it only confirmed what I already knew: he was weak. This weak Beta had hurt my son.
But that wasn’t the man who stood over me now. A storm raged overhead, the rain and thunder crashing around us, the water parting. My waters, parting for him.
Odysseus.
His chestnut hair, wavy and wild, had grown out, and his eyes—tired, bloodshot, with a red tinge—locked onto me. There was something different in his gaze now, something primal, like a predator sizing up its prey. He was no longer the man who sought peace. No, this Odysseus was a horrifying figure, one I might even mistake for a monster. My trident in his hands, gleaming in the storm, pointed directly at me.
“You idiot,” I sneered, amusement slipping into my voice, as if he didn’t already know.
“Can’t you see?” I laughed darkly, the sound mingling with the roar of the storm. “You sealed your fate the moment you decided to beat me. You released my storm when you opened that bag. You blocked your only way home.”
I chuckled wickedly, but he didn’t flinch. He stood over me, unmoving, as though he knew something I didn’t.
“Now you’ll never get back,” I whispered, my voice full of triumph.
“You're going to call off that storm,” Odysseus said, as though it were an order to me, the god of the sea and storms. It was foolish—and yet, he spoke with such certainty, as if he truly believed I would obey.
“Or what? You can’t kill me,” I sneered, a shark-like grin stretching across my face.
“Exactly.” The man raised his trident, and suddenly, I understood his train of thought.
“Wait,” I called out, surprised by the sudden shift in my own stance.
“Wait—ahhh!” I gasped, and it almost sounded like I was begging.
“Ugh!” The blow was cruel. I bled gold and nectar, the pain sharp and relentless. It had been so long since I had felt such agony. For a moment, I thought it might end.
I was wrong.
“How does it feel to be helpless?” I grunted through the pain, struggling to focus.
“How does it feel to know pain?”
Terrible. My vision blurred, and I could feel the weight of the words sinking in.
“I watched my friends die in horror,” he continued, his voice hollow with the weight of his memories. I felt a small ounce of that pain, but there was no regret in what I had done.
“Crying as they were all slain!” The image of them lingered—Odysseus, the look of anguish on the captain’s face, still etched in my mind.
“I heard their final moments, Calling their captain in vain. Look what you’ve turned me into.”
It was sick, I realized, but amidst the agony, anger, and pain... he was beautiful. The man I once thought weak now stood as something else entirely.
“All the pain I’ve been through,” he said.
“Look at what we’ve become," he finished his rant.
“Enough.” I spat, my voice strained and tired.
“All of the pain that I’ve been through,” Odysseus said again, stabbing me once more. His words were beginning to feel repetitive, a chant of misery.
“Stop.” I whispered through gritted teeth, but it didn’t matter. The storm raged within both of us.
“Haven’t I suffered enough?” His voice broke, his torment evident, but he still pressed on.
“You didn’t stop when I begged you,” he taunted again, digging the trident deeper. The pain was unbearable, but my body, immortal as it was, healed too quickly. It was almost worse to feel the wound close as quickly as it tore open. Immortality could be its own curse.
“You told me to close my heart.” His voice was cold now, a reminder of the words I had spoken so long ago, twisting the blade into the wounds of both our souls. “You said the world was dark.”
“Monster.” I hissed, as the word left my lips. I couldn't stop it. Pride clashed with pain, and the word burned through my chest.
For a moment, I saw it—the monster before me. A Beta, yes, but more. Broken, and yet somehow beautiful. The irony of it struck me. Too bad he was a Beta; he would have made a far better Omega. The thought of such a perfect creature being mine made my breath catch, and I couldn’t stop the hungry look in my eyes.
I was much bigger than him, yet here I was—bleeding out, while he stood small and above me, looking down at me like I was nothing more than dirt, instead of the god I was. A man who had survived the war, once so hopeful, so green. I was sure he would tire of this, that eventually, he'd let me go, that he’d grow bored. But humans never learn. And he... he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
"Didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our—"
FUCK.
"Alright, please," I said, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. Please. I hated it. But it was the only thing I could say, the only thing that could possibly make him stop.
And still, despite it all, he was beautiful. He moved with such purpose, such grace, even while blood dripped from his wounds, even as he drove the trident deeper into me. But it wasn’t the pain that caught me off guard—it was the scent.
As he pulled the trident back, it cut his cheek. My eyes widened, my breath caught. That scent. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. His blood, his sweat, his pain—it all smelled like temptation.
Odysseus. An Omega.
I could feel it all. The rawness of him. The vulnerability, the sharp edge of his power. He wasn’t just any man anymore. I could see the way his blood soaked his skin, the way he moved, even now as he bled. He was mine, even if he didn’t know it yet.
The smile I gave him wasn’t one of mercy. It was something darker. Something... possessive. He had no idea how badly I wanted him. But I would make him understand.
I could see it all in that moment. The god and his beautiful mortal. The power that we could create together, the children that would be born of us. They’d be as unstoppable as the sea itself. I’d make sure of it.
My eyes roamed his body—every exposed inch of him. The trident at his side, the way his chest heaved. He was mine. He just didn’t know it yet.
When Odysseus finally lowered the trident, the clang of it falling to the ground rang in my ears, and for a brief moment, I almost wanted to laugh. He was letting me go. But I’d promised him. For now, I’d let him think he could return home.
I leaned forward, my voice dark, laced with something dangerous. “After everything you’ve done... how will you sleep at night?”
He didn’t turn to face me, his back to me as he collected himself. But the air between us had changed. He knew it too.
"At home," he said, steady but with a slight tremor. "Back home to care for my son."
My smile widened, sharp and knowing. He could go. But his scent, his blood, his power—it would stay with me. And I would come for him. He would never truly leave. For I found my mate.
++++++
A year. A whole year. I had waited, watching, growing impatient. The whispers reached my ears about all the trouble Odysseus faced. His victories, his struggles—none of it mattered. In the end, he had saved his son, Telemachus, and his caretaker, Penelope. Under the guise of a Beta, he had fooled everyone. No one questioned it. No one but me. I knew the truth. Beneath the façade of strength, beneath that Beta act, there was an Omega waiting to submit. His so-called marriage? A fraud. A clever trick to keep his kingdom safe and his son protected. The truth about who his true mate was—where she was, and who the father was—would be revealed.
I would see to that. But first, I would deal with the one who took my Omega from me.
The castle loomed before me, and I walked in with purpose, knowing full well the effect I’d have. Not many mortals had blue skin, let alone hair as blue as the depths of the sea. I chose a form they couldn't ignore—big enough to overpower, but handsome enough to make them tremble in awe. And my smile? It was sharp, a mark of possessiveness. Odysseus would know exactly who I was, and he would know that I had claimed him.
When I stepped into the throne room, Odysseus froze. His eyes widened in shock. A mortal king—such a weak thing compared to me—pale and trembling.
"Lord... Lord Poseidon?" he stammered, his voice cracking. It had been a years since our fight, a years since he was gripping onto life. But I’m sure the monster inside was still waiting to spring back to life. I knew better and would keep my guard up.
I let my eyes sweep over him—his crown, his silky garments. Pretty, but not nearly enough. I licked my lips as I stared at him, imagining how easily I could break him.
"I want your kingdom’s treasure," I said, my voice low, dripping with intent.
Odysseus sputtered, trying to regain his composure. "You can take the gold you want, but please—don’t flood my lands—"
"I never said gold." My gaze sharpened, dark and hungry. "An Omega."
His eyes widened. He stumbled over his words. "My son isn't—"
I scoffed. "Obviously, your son isn’t an Omega. Just a brat." I took a step closer, watching the flicker of panic in his eyes.
"Not him," I said with a dark smirk. "I want his mother."
The words hit like a slap. Odysseus froze, his hand gripping the arms of his throne as if trying to hold onto his own sanity. The silence stretched. His mouth opened, then closed, his eyes flicking from me to the ground, as if hoping I might change my mind. But I wouldn’t. He knew it as well as I did.
"You," I repeated, making it clear.
Fuck. I could see the panic in his eyes. Fear. Real fear. It made me want to laugh, to savor this moment, but I didn’t. No. I was far too focused on him.
Now it was time for me to take what was mine.
Odysseus' protest was firm, but I could see the crack in his resolve. He was trying so hard to keep his Beta mask intact, to hold onto the illusion that he was still in control. He wanted to be strong, to be the king who had saved his people. But all of it—his words, his defiance—felt like a childish lie to me.
"I am not your Omega," he said, his voice rough with denial. "I am a Beta."
I narrowed my eyes. The audacity.
"You lie," I growled, stepping forward, my voice dark and dangerous. He flinched, but I didn't care. The truth was plain to me, and I wouldn't tolerate such lies. My hand shot out, gripping his arm, pulling him roughly from his throne. His breath caught as I lifted him with ease, ignoring his resistance.
I seated him on my lap, forcing him to settle against me, his body tense. There was something intoxicating about his defiance, something that made the desire burn hotter in my chest. But this—this was about power. About control. About reminding him that he was mine.
My fingers slid up his jaw, digging into his skin just enough to make him feel it. I felt the pulse of his heartbeat under my touch, the raw tension in his body. He tried to turn his head away, but I held him there, watching as my fingers traced along the curve of his cheek.
"Liar," I murmured, my voice a dark whisper. "You know it's bad to lie to a god, Odysseus."
I sniffed at the air, savoring the intoxicating scent that surrounded him—his blood, the coppery scent of it mingling with the underlying scent of Omega. The pheromones were undeniable now. That scent was mine to claim, and it called to me like nothing else.
"I will not be your mate," Odysseus said, his voice firm, though I could hear the tremor beneath it. He was still fighting, but the resistance was weakening. I could see it in the way his body trembled, in the way his eyes flicked between mine and the ground.
"Then I shall flood your home," I said coldly, my grip tightening as I moved to look him dead in the eye, "drown your people... and still, I will bring you to my home."
He looked up at me then, those defiant eyes meeting mine with a challenge, a spark of hope that he thought would deter me. "Or?" he asked, his voice shaking just slightly.
I tilted his head to face me, brushing his hair back with my fingers. I wanted him to know the weight of my words. I wanted him to see just how much control I had over him now, how there was no escape.
"Or," I said softly, my voice low and filled with dark promises, "I can rule this place with you until your child is ready to take over. Then, I take you home."
He froze, eyes wide, as if he hadn't expected that. The thought of being with me willingly, of ruling with me. I could see the conflict inside him. He was trapped—by his pride, by his love for his son, by everything he had fought for. But in the end, there was only one way this could end.
I could feel the tension in his body—his resistance, his defiance—but I didn’t care. It was so beautiful, watching him struggle, pretending he had any control left. His heart raced under my hand, and I savored the moment, knowing he was slowly crumbling.
His eyes flickered, avoiding mine as I lowered my mouth to his jaw, tasting the salt of his skin. The sharp, intoxicating scent of his Omega filled the air, thick and overwhelming. He couldn’t hide it anymore. He could protest all he wanted, but I could feel the way his body responded to me.
I kissed him, hard, my lips dragging across his skin. He tried to turn his head away, but I gripped his jaw, forcing him to look at me. His breath hitched as I scraped my teeth along his neck, my hand moving to his shoulder, pulling him closer. He tensed, but his resistance was weaker now, every inch of him betraying the pride he still clung to.
"You're so pretty like this," I muttered against his skin, my voice rough and low. "I can’t wait to see you in my bed, all helpless and obedient. You’ll look beautiful there, won’t you? My Omega, laying beneath me, crying for me to claim you."
He shuddered, his body stiffening in my grasp, but I didn’t stop. I moved my hands, grabbing whatever I could. His skin was soft, warm—so perfect. I dug my fingers into his sides, marking him, claiming him. The marks I left would linger, reminding him who he belonged to.
"Imagine how powerful our children will be," I whispered, my lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck. "A god and his Omega—our blood flowing through their veins. They’ll be unstoppable."
I heard his breath catch, a small, strangled sound slipping from his throat. He was thinking, processing, trying to find a way out, but there was none. Not anymore. He belonged to me now. His body, his soul—they were mine.
I leaned back slightly to look at him, studying his face, the struggle in his eyes. His pride was still there, but I could see the cracks, the hesitation in his gaze. He knew what I was saying was true. He knew that I would make him mine, whether he wanted to or not.
"You’ll be perfect in my bed," I repeated, my voice soft and almost tender now, though the desire behind it was far from gentle. "I’ll make sure of it. You’ll beg me for it, and I’ll give you everything. You’re mine, Odysseus."
He didn’t respond, but his eyes flickered briefly, like a storm breaking on the horizon. The challenge was still there, buried beneath the desire, but it was fading. Slowly, he was becoming what I knew he would be.
My Omega.