Chapter Text
Alastor’s mother wasn’t getting any better.
The worst part about it all was what ailed her wasn’t some rare disease, but a mundane one. If he had the money, he could have easily paid for her to be healed. But he didn’t.
He’d watched her grow weaker, having to take time off of work because she was too sick and then because she struggled to get out of bed. He’d picked up extra hours when he could in the fields and tried to supplement what little income he pulled in with hunting and fishing, but it wasn’t enough.
Alastor pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead while she slept before he slipped out of the one-room shack they lived in.
There was only one way he could make enough money to save her. He just hoped she forgave him for it.
Rather than spend his rare day off in the bayou setting snares or waiting for the fish to bite, he’d gotten up even earlier than usual, scrubbing himself clean and donning his best shirt, trousers, and cloak before he made his way to the Registry headquarters in the city.
There would be no hiding what he was anymore. He wouldn’t be able to pretend he was a Beta after this. His name and details would be on the list that circulated throughout the kingdom, advertising available Omegas.
The pendant his mother made for him, imbued with magic to mask his scent and shorten his heats, rested heavily against his heart.
This was the end of his life as he knew it.
He would lose his job in the fields, as well as his freedom. Hells, he may be punished for hiding his designation all this time. For not registering as he legally should have when he presented.
Sure, he could run. Uproot himself and his mother and try to start over somewhere else, but they would both be fugitives then. The Crown couldn’t afford to lose another Omega. Not with how few of them there were.
Omegas were rare. A precious resource. Many had perished from a plague that targeted them almost exclusively a few generations ago and they’d yet to fully recover from it. He should have been registered and, not being from a wealthy family, he would have been taken from his mother and made a ward of the Crown.
His life would have been controlled down to the smallest details to ensure his health and, more importantly, the health of his womb. He would have had no choice in what he ate, how he spent his time, or what his future would be. Instead he would’ve spent his teen years learning how to please an Alpha and how to raise a child. Then, depending on his proficiencies and looks, he would have been mated to whichever Alpha paid the most for him.
If there were none, he would’ve remained a ward of the Crown, living in the Omega Dorms and being loaned out to different Alphas during his heats instead. If one managed to impregnate him, he might be “lucky” enough to be mated to them after. It was far more likely he’d stay with them for the duration of his pregnancy and the first few years of the whelp’s life before he’d be parted from them and sent to the next highest bidder.
That would undoubtedly be his fate now. He hated what he was about to do, but it was this or watch his mother die.
Reaching the bright blue building, he hesitated a few steps from the entrance, his ears threatening to pin back. Alastor forced them upright, swallowing hard. He was nothing like an Omega was supposed to be. It was why he’d been able to hide in plain sight for so long.
He wasn’t small or soft or pretty. He was tall, even for the Beta he pretended to be. Moreover, he was thin, bordering on gaunt, calloused, his already dark skin had only grown more so with the many hours he spent out in the sun. He would be a means to an end for the lowest bidders and would spend his next twenty or so years warming their beds and pregnant with litter after litter until his whelp rearing days passed and he’d likely be made to train the following generations of Omegas or, if he was lucky, he might land a position as a nanny for someone else’s whelp.
He was twenty-four. By their estimates, he should have been servicing Alphas for six or seven years already, depending on when he had his first heat. The fact he was as yet untouched was a point in his favor, but only for the first round of bidding. It wouldn’t matter after.
He took a deep breath as he climbed the handful of steps leading to the Registry’s doors, removing his necklace as he went. The unmistakably sweet scent of an untouched Omega poured off of him in its wake and heads turned from one end of the street to the other, seeking out the source. He didn’t think it boded well that their hungry gazes passed over him.
Pocketing the necklace, Alastor let himself inside, back straight and head held high. He’d seen enough Omegas to know he should be meek and subservient, but he needed some negotiating power if he wanted to help his mother. She would be granted a stipend from the Crown, per the law, to make up for the loss of him. He’d get her as much as she could.
The instant he stepped inside, everyone there turned to face him too. He’d tried to time this so he’d be on the cusp of his next heat, but he was beginning to worry he’d waited too long, judging by the sudden tension in the air.
Yet, once again, their eyes slid past him to the empty space behind him before they realized he was the source of the smell.
The two raccoons, judging by their ears and fluffy tails, behind the front desk recovered first. They were Betas, by the smell of them, giving them an advantage as far as his scent was concerned. They couldn’t reproduce.
The Alphas in the room, however… There were only a handful, but they all got to their feet, eyes locked on him.
The male raccoon sent a panicked look at the burgeoning standoff before shouting, “Mr. Asmodeus, sir!”
A moment later, an enormous man stepped out of one of the offices behind them. He was unmistakably an Alpha. He stood a full head taller than Alastor and easily dwarfed him in muscle mass.
He froze the instant he caught his scent, eyes going wide as he stared at Alastor. He took a moment to collect himself before motioning to the office he’d just come from. “I was starting to worry you’d been delayed,” he said. “Please, come in. Your Alpha should be here shortly.”
Alastor kept his head high as he strode around the desk and into the office. He wasn’t certain what the man’s play was, but the other Alphas stood down at his words, the tension slowly draining from the lobby.
Once he was inside, the man closed and discreetly locked the door behind him. He might’ve been alarmed were it not for the presence of a raccoon Omega, seated on a comfortable looking couch with his feet up and a hand on his swollen belly. He smelled strongly of the Alpha, and a delicate, intricate gold necklace proudly framed the mate mark on his throat.
The Alpha rounded on Alastor and now he was closer he caught the faintest shimmer of scales scattered across his face and neck. A snake, maybe?
“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, earning a reproachful look from his Omega. “I’ve never seen you before,” he continued as he studied him. “I’d definitely remember you if I had.”
“Ozzie,” the Omega chided. “What matters is he’s here now.”
“And he almost caused a riot out there! Fuck, Fizz, I’m not sure we’re out of the woods yet!”
“That’s why you have Blitz, Loona, Millie, and Moxxie,” he answered with a shrug.
“Yeah, and if Blitz gets hurt fighting a bunch of near feral Alphas, I’m gonna have to explain that to Stolas.”
“They’ll be fine,” he reassured him as he picked up the small blanket and skein of yarn beside him, hands moving deftly as he began to crochet.
The Alpha pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a heavy seat in the chair behind the desk and motioning for Alastor to take the one opposite him. He reluctantly did so, lips pressed into a thin line meeting the Alpha’s gaze rather than lowering his own in submission.
“Do I want to know how you got here without being kidnapped or mobbed in the streets?”
Alastor kept his expression carefully neutral, despite how the necklace was practically burning a hole in his pocket. His mother could get in a good deal of trouble for making it for him. “No, sir.”
Ozzie rubbed his face with both hands, heaving a heavy sigh. “I’m going to take a wild guess and assume you’re not already registered? Even if you were new in town, there’s no way you would’ve been left to wander around on your own. Not smelling like that.”
It was unheard of for Omegas to travel alone. Not when they could so easily be kidnapped or ransomed. Perhaps the only good thing about the registry was that, by tracking and protecting Omegas, they made such practices far less common than they once were.
“I’m not,” Alastor agreed. “That’s why I’m here.”
The Alpha gave him a shrewd look. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four.”
Both he and the Omega gaped at him.
“Twenty-four?” Ozzie demanded. “And you have yet to be deflowered?"
He narrowly avoided wrinkling his nose in distaste at the word. “Yes, I am untouched, sir.”
“Gods above… When is your next heat? It must be soon. Although as thin as you are…” He pursed his lips.
Alastor had no idea what he meant. Was he implying he was too scrawny to entice any prospective Alphas? “A few days, sir. Five at most.”
“I’ll need to contact the Guardians and request an escort for you to the dorms,” he said more to himself than to Alastor. “And you’re walking around without an Omega collar! Any Alpha could have claimed you!”
His face warmed at the accusation in his tone. “I don’t own one, sir.”
Omega collars were provided by the Registry, or purchased by an Omega’s family or Alpha to protect their mate gland once they came of age. Those not provided by the Registry were exorbitantly priced and reserved for Omegas from wealthy families or contracted Omegas (at least for the duration of said contract). Wouldn’t want anyone to forget who owned them, after all…
The Registry possessed the only keys to them too. The punishment for removing or trying to remove an Omega’s collar without their sanction was incredibly steep.
“Of course you don’t…” Ozzie muttered. “You won’t be leaving here without one. Hells, you won’t be leaving this room without one.”
Alastor’s stomach sank. He’d known that going in but now it was real. The phantom weight of his future collar resting around his throat made him clench his fists in his lap. Made the room feel too small.
“Ozzie, maybe you should ask him why he’s here first?” Fizz offered, shooting him a meaningful look.
“I’d like to believe it’s because he’s come to his senses, but I sincerely doubt it. What are you running from, little Omega?”
Alastor’s jaw tightened at the demeaning epithet. “I’m not running from anything.”
“Then why are you here?”
Fuck, he hated this so much. “I…” He swallowed hard. “I need money.”
“Debts? Gambling?”
“Medicine.”
Ozzie‘s brow furrowed in concern. “You’re ill?”
“No, my mother.”
There was a beat of silence before he offered, “I see. Is she an Omega as well?”
Alastor shook his head. “A Beta.”
“A Beta?”
His nails bit into his palms, knuckles going white. “She’s my aunt by blood, but she is my mother.”
She took him in after his birth mother’s death, spiriting him away from the Alpha who’d sired him. She’d planned to help both of them escape from the abusive bastard, but hadn’t arrived in time to save her.
Alastor was little more than a babe then. All he knew of her was what he’d been told over the years. He loved her, despite never knowing her, but it was a different sort of love.
A soft rumbling sound filled the room. An Omega’s purr, meant to soothe and provide comfort. His fists loosened of their own accord, the tension in his shoulders easing. Something deep within Alastor, an instinct or a reflex perhaps, yearned for him to echo it.
He would rather slit his own throat.
Ozzie, meanwhile, sank deeper into his seat with a thoughtful hum. “Money for your mother then.”
Alastor nodded. “The finder’s fee and the stipend.”
“Finder’s fee? She should be grateful not to be reported to the Crown!
“If you want my cooperation, she’ll get both and she won’t be punished or penalized.”
That brought Ozzie up short.
Alastor couldn’t stop his ears from pinning back as he added, “I realize I lack the appeal of a typical Omega, but…deflowerment at my age should still bring in a nice sum for the Crown. She’s entitled to a percentage of it as the finder’s fee. It’d be a shame if the sum was reduced.”
He wasn’t above using his virginity as a bargaining chip. While he had no interest in intercourse (for procreation or otherwise), he would let the first person he met upon leaving this room fuck him out of spite if the Registry tried to harm or cheat his mother.
“You drive a hard bargain for an Omega…” Ozzie said, releasing a slow breath as he mulled everything over. “…I can petition for leniency.”
“That isn’t good enough.”
The Alpha scowled at him, but didn’t push the issue. Instead he reached for an odd device tethered to his desk, lifting it to his ear. “Yes, this is Asmodeus. Can you connect me to Rosie?”
Alastor sincerely hoped the man hadn’t lost his mind.
There was a brief pause before he added, “I realize she’s busy, but it’s a little time sensitive. I also need to borrow a few Guardians.”
What he’d thought was the voice of someone outside the room seemed to actually be coming from the device and Alastor squinted at it, brow furrowing. There had been a sudden influx in new technologies, though he’d seen very little of them and experienced fewer.
Ozzie rubbed at his temple as if he were on the verge of a headache. “Yes, I realize that. Let me put it into perspective for you. I have a virgin Omega sitting in my office who’s twenty-four years old and mere days away from his heat.”
Alastor couldn’t make out what the other voice said, though it did fall silent. He turned away from Ozzie then, frowning in the direction of the window.
He’d known it was risky to come here like this, but he may have underestimated the power of his scent. In his defense, he’d suppressed it for so long he hadn’t realized how powerful of an effect it would have on others. He’d assumed it would be like any other Omega’s.
Apparently not.
“She’s headed here now?” Ozzie asked, shoulders slumping with relief. “All right. Thanks.” He set the device back on his desk before returning his full attention to Alastor: “Rosie will be here shortly with a few Guardians.”
“I don’t know who that is.”
He blinked. “She’s the right hand of the King. But as far as you’re concerned, she’s largely responsible for the overall management of Omegas, registered and otherwise.”
Wonderful…
His lack of enthusiasm must have shown, as Ozzie was quick to add, “She'll take care of you, little Omega.”
“Alastor.”
“What?”
“My name is Alastor.”
“Oh.” He took out a sheet of paper and a fountain pen and began writing. “Last name?”
He doubted he wanted his chosen name, so instead he gave his sire’s. “Hartfelt.”
Ozzie looked up sharply. “Hartfelt?” He studied his face, clearly looking for any similarities he could find. “Gods above…”
Apparently he found them.
“He has no claim over me. I’ve heard he’s dead.”
“He is,” Ozzie agreed, still looking shaken. “I didn’t realize he’d had any whelps, let alone an Omega.”
Alastor shrugged, gaze returning to the window. His father had looked for him. That much he knew for certain. However, unless he wanted to admit to the death of his birth mother, an Omega, at his hands, he’d had limited resources to devote to his hunt. Injuring an Omega came with a steep enough punishment. Killing an Omega on purpose… That was a death sentence. They couldn’t afford to lose any more of them. Omegas were the only ones capable of conceiving and giving birth.
“Have you eaten?” Fizz offered suddenly from the sofa. “You must be hungry if your heat is approaching.”
Almost any food or money he’d managed to scrounge up had gone directly to his mother. Including the lion’s share of the meal he was given the days he worked. He’d been trying to save enough to afford the medicine she so desperately needed, but it was taking too long.
“No, thank you, sir.”
Ozzie and Fizz shared a look he couldn’t begin to interpret.
“Your parentage is a good thing in this case,” Ozzie said, returning to the matter at hand. “While you’re…unconventional for an Omega, Hartfelt blood is highly desirable.”
Was it? He’d never considered the possibility before.
“Without access to any of his wealth or prestige?” He couldn’t have inherited anyway as an Omega, but a dowry typically would’ve been set aside in the event of his passing.
He nodded. “Despite your…circumstances, I doubt you’ll spend much time in the Omega Dormitories.”
His hands tightened in his lap. But that was a good thing, wasn’t it? The commission for his subsequent heats would be less than the first, but his mother would receive a portion of each to follow. And…if he were to give birth, an additional bonus.
He just hoped she could forgive him eventually.
“Do you know much about what’s to come?” Ozzie continued.
Alastor shook his head. He knew at a very high level, but no one had ever sat him down to discuss it all in detail. Why would they, when Betas couldn’t reproduce at all?
“You’ll undergo a medical examination to determine the state of your health and to address any concerns. The results will determine your diet, exercise, and rest needs. They’ll also determine the baseline cost for your services.”
He’d never been to a healer before. It’d been too risky. Thankfully his mother was skilled enough with magic to help him as needed.
“Have you had any schooling? Can you read and write?”
Alastor nodded. He hadn’t undergone formal schooling, but he was more learned than most due to his mother’s teachings. She’d been a governess for the upper class before she was saddled with him. With his sire dead and without the secret of his secondary gender tying her down, maybe she could return to the profession.
“You’ll be given an assessment on your capabilities in those areas too. Your performance will also be factored into your fee. The better you do, the higher it will be.”
Yet Omegas never saw any of the money, despite being the ones to generate it. It was always divided between their families, the Registry, and the Crown.
“And of course you’ll be fitted for an Omega collar. You’ll be given a temporary one before you leave today, but a proper one will be made.”
His ears were flat against his head now and it took everything he had not to lift a hand to circle his throat.
As if it would prevent them from putting one on him…
“The materials used will reflect your standing in the pedigree. However, any Alpha who contracts with you can supply their own for you to wear instead for the duration. Unless they choose to mark you as their mate.”
Alastor doubted as much, regardless of his parentage. The Alphas at the Registry hadn’t realized he was an Omega despite his scent and their location. He was a far cry from what any of them wanted in a mate.
“Sometime over the next few days, you’ll be properly measured for a new wardrobe too, befitting of your standing. There won’t be much time before your heat for you to get more than a crash course on Omega etiquette and expectations. Your training will begin in earnest after.”
“Training?” he echoed before he could stop himself. Wasn’t it a little late for that?
“On how to behave like a proper Omega. In addition to dancing, pleasuring your contracted Alpha, and other areas dependent on your standing. All of it will increase your worthiness as a contractee and as a potential mate.” Ozzie answered as he continued to jot various things down.
Alastor’s stomach sank at the thought, but he tried to maintain a neutral sort of aura. It seemed to be working for Ozzie, but not so much for his Omega if the concerned little looks he kept sending him were anything to go by.
“Don’t forget to mention Fated Mates, Oz,” the Omega piped up.
The Alpha frowned faintly. “They’re so rare, I don’t think there’s much point.”
“Humor me? We’re Fated Mates, after all.”
Like the ones in fairytales?
The corners of Ozzie’s lips quirked up. “In the rare chance you happen to find your Fated Mate, at which point a Fate Mark will develop, you would be removed from the program entirely and custody would be transferred to your mate. You’ll receive a physical examination before and after each contract to determine if one has appeared. However, Fated Mates are all but myth these days. I don’t recommend trying to fake a Fate Mark either. The bond will be thoroughly tested and the penalty for trying to forge one is steep.”
He nearly gave a bark of laughter at the implication he would even consider such a thing, but managed to hold it back.
Alastor half listened as Ozzie continued to go over all of the ways his freedom would be stripped away. He failed to see why he bothered to go into such detail, given the fact it would’ve been far quicker to explain what wasn’t being taken from him.
By the time they were done preparing him, the Alpha reassured him he would barely recognize himself.
As if that should comfort him.
As if he should be grateful.
His lecture was eventually cut off by a sharp knock at the door and the voice of the male raccoon from earlier. “Mr. Asmodeus, sir? Miss Rosie is here to see you.”
Ozzie waved his hand in a casual display of power and the door unlocked and opened of its own accord. A tall, maybe taller than him, female Alpha stood on the other side. She had an almost floral scent to her as well as a set of beautiful pale pink wings. She strode into the room as if she owned the place, her dark eyes immediately settled on Alastor. The raccoon assistant closed the door behind her and Ozzie locked it with his magic.
“My, my, you weren’t kidding, were you Ozzie?” she asked as she took a slow turn around Alastor’s chair, studying him from every angle.
He kept his gaze forward, refusing to watch her ogle him.
“What a strapping young man! And that scent! No wonder all the Alphas out in your lobby are so on edge. I’d be tempted to take a bite myself if I wasn't already mated!”
She tittered and Alastor’s shoulders stiffened.
“I can see how he managed to avoid being noticed for so long too! I’d have thought he was a Beta if my nose didn’t tell me otherwise!”
Ozzie nodded from the opposite side of his desk. “He’s…unique,” he offered after a long pause. “And a Hartfelt.”
She gave a theatrical gasp, lifting a hand to her lips. “I thought he looked familiar! Oh, Oz! He might just be what I’ve been looking for!”
The Alpha and his Omega shared a look.
“Oh?” Ozzie hazarded.
She nodded enthusiastically. “He’s been…dissatisfied with the selection so far, despite them being some of the prettiest Omegas you’ve ever seen. It’s possible he’s just being contrary, but…” She shrugged. “I figure it’s worth a shot.”
Ozzie’s brow furrowed. “…are you sure, Rosie? He’s unregistered. He hasn’t had proper training.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “It’s just for one heat. It’s not like they’ll be doing much chitchatting or otherwise. An Omega’s first heat with a partner can be…” She tapped a finger to her cheek. “Intense! He just needs something to get him out of his latest funk.”
Ozzie ran a hand through his hair. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. Should I have a special collar fitted for him for the occasion?”
“Absolutely! The prettier the better! I’ll see what else I can scrounge up too.”
Alastor’s stomach churned at their words. At how they were talking about him as if he were a thing rather than a living, breathing person. He’d seen other Omegas treated like this, had anticipated it, yet the reality of it was still a slap in the face.
Although part of him, deep, deep down was relieved this would be a temporary placement.
“Except, with his heat coming up… What’re you going to do if he’s not interested.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “I think he will be. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve, after all!”
Alastor’s heart leapt into his throat. “Wait,” he protested, all eyes swiveling to him now. He swallowed hard. “…if…this Alpha doesn’t—“
“The fee will be paid regardless,” Ozzie assured him.
Rosie quirked a brow. “Is this what brought you out of hiding, dear? Money troubles?”
“His mother is ill and he needs money for her treatment.”
Her eyes widened and if Alastor didn’t know any better, he might’ve thought she was genuinely concerned on his behalf.
“I’m not ill,” he insisted, lest she assume he was damaged goods. “Is it…possible to get an advance of some kind?”
He should have asked that up front. What if they wouldn’t pay his mother until after his heat? What if he’d done all this just to abandon her to die alone?
“That’s not how—“ Ozzie began.
Fizz cut him off. “The least we can do is have a healer go treat her. It might ruin his performance, if he’s worried about her the entire time. Besides, if he gets pregnant, he could lose the whelp if something were to happen to her.”
Alastor glanced back at him in surprise and the other Omega gave him a small smile.
“We’ll be sure to provide proof she’s all right too,” he insisted.
Rosie crossed her arms, expression thoughtful. “He does have a point,” she conceded. “We’re trying to get him out of a funk, not into a worse one. It might be something I can use too, to convince him to bed this Omega.”
Revulsion reared up within him at her words but he forced it back down. He didn’t have any other options. It was this or his mother would die.
And then what would he have to live for without her?
She wouldn’t live forever. She’d been almost a decade older than his birth mother, but she was still far too young to die. And when the worst happened, when she did pass… Well, he would either escape from this newfound hell he’d put himself in, or he would join her. It was as simple as that.
Rosie went to rest a hand on his shoulder and he reflexively stiffened, ears shooting up. She and Ozzie shared a look and he forced some of the tension from his frame, even if there wasn’t anything he could do about his ears.
“Don’t worry,” Rosie said to Ozzie, not to him. “I’ll make sure he’s nice and relaxed when I introduce them. Now, about that collar…”