Page 9 of Undone
***
Michael did his best to put it out of his mind.
He threw himself into managing his estates and finances. He dutifully attended balls and parties. He flirted with some of the most beautiful omegas in the country.
Everything was fine.
Michael was relieved to find that his body reacted to omegas as it used to—as it should. Omegas’ scents were still very pleasant. They still appealed to his senses. He could still imagine fucking them and knotting them, marrying one of them and having a bunch of kids.
There wasnothingwrong with him.
“Who pissed in your drink?”
Michael flinched, every cell in his body snapping to attention. He drew a steadying breath, forced his face into neutrality, and turned.
Anthony was watching him over the rim of his glass, one dark brow arched.
“No one,” Michael said, before taking a long sip from his own drink. To win some time. To quash the cowardly instinct to flee. This was Ant. His closest friend.
“Could have fooled me, with the way you were scowling.” Anthony stepped forward and leaned against the wall next to Michael with one shoulder, his dark suit hugging his tall, broad frame.
Michael looked around the ballroom, for the first time glad how crowded it was. The smell of so many people pervaded the air, making it difficult to discern individual scents.
“I’m not scowling,” he said. “Just tired of—of everything.”
Anthony hummed, glancing around the room with a sardonic smile. “Can’t blame you, with the way half the room is eyeing you like a prize stallion.”
His lips twisting, Michael snorted. “At least the other half is ogling you. It’s much worse when you aren’t here.”
It was true. Anthony’s presence never failed to draw a good share of attention away from him. Although Anthony’s title wasn’t as high-ranking as his, he was considered one of the biggest catches in Pelugian high society. He was very rich, very handsome, and very well connected. His commanding military bearing didn’t hurt, either. He exuded a certain aura of self-assured masculinity that would be undeniably attractive to most omegas. They all but drooled looking at him.
Anthony shook his head and took another sip of his drink, his heavy-lidded blue eyes flicking over the crowd idly. “The difference is, the ones looking at me aren’t looking for marriage. I’m not looking for a mate yet. You are. Your mother all but announced it.”
Michael winced. “Don’t remind me.” He leaned against the wall, more relaxed now that there was nothing weird about their interaction. He felt totally normal. Hewasn’tthinking about the fact that the alpha beside him had fucked and knotted him.
Michael cleared his throat, tugging at his collar. “Why aren’t you? Looking for a mate? You’re older than me.”
Anthony gave him a strange look before looking away. “There’s no rush. Unlike you, I don’t have a concerned mother pressuring me to sire an heir.”
“What about your instincts?” Michael said. After a certain age, alphas started feeling restless if they didn’t have a pack.With Anthony’s parents being dead and his siblings being married, he couldn’t even rely on his pack bonds to them. The itch to start his own pack must have been there.
Anthony grimaced slightly. “It’s manageable,” he said, his voice a little clipped. “I see Jules and his kids often. It helps.”
Michael hummed. “But your brother and his pups have their own alpha,” he said, referring to the crown prince of Pelugia. “I doubt it satisfies the instinct.”
Anthony shrugged. “It’s fine,” he said curtly. “I’m not a slave to my instincts. I managed fine without a pack for more than a decade during the war.”
Looking at him curiously, Michael opened his mouth to tell him that it was different—wars tended to help, satisfying alphas’ instinct to protect—but he was cut off by another voice.
“Lord Blake!” A man approached them.
It took Michael a moment to recognize him. Wren Lockwood, a widowed omega in his thirties. He was beautiful, with red hair and beautiful gray eyes that were now fixed on Anthony. The omega bowed to Michael first, as manners dictated, but spared him only a glance before turning a pretty smile on Anthony.
“I’ve heard of your terrible misadventure in the Outer Worlds,” Lockwood said, stepping closer to Anthony and laying a slim hand on his bicep. “I was terribly worried when we heard that you were stranded on some barbaric planet.”
“Were you?” Anthony said with a sardonic little smile, exchanging a look with Michael.
Michael smiled back faintly, gripping his glass harder. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen omegas throw themselves at his friend, but this time it grated more than usual. They had beentalking. It was pretty damn rude to interrupt their conversation like this. Not to mention Michael could fucking smell how wet the omega was, even through the cocktail of scents thick in the air. It was beyond vulgar, even if the omega was widowed. They were at a goddamn ball. Thekingwas present.
