Page 6 of Gold Sector
Of course, I have my own talents as well.
Such as my ability to smell truths and lies.
“They’re hiding something,” I tell my brother, answering his question regarding what I think. Theof the Omega and her fatherpart was implied. “The Omega’s scent changed when her father said all he wanted was her protection. She also didn’t seem all that keen on being evaluated.”
The latter I suspect stemmed from some type of abuse.Our evaluations are rather standard, the focus being on physical and mental health. But I know not all sectors operate like ours does.
“Obsidian Sector,” I mutter, recalling what Alpha Keegan said about where his daughter was from. “He never saidwhatshe is, though. Just insinuated that she’s Drakonian since she’s his progeny.”
“Well, that makes her at least half Drakonian,” my brother points out.
“Indeed,” I agree. “But she doesn’t smell like a dragon.”
Instead, she reminded me of a meadow full of wildflowers. Her alluring scent still lingers in the room, a pleasant aroma that oddly placates my inner beast.
I’ve met hundreds of Omegas before.
Been with a few through their heats.
Yet none of them ever calmed my dragon.
“No, she reeked of mutt,” Onyx growls, causing my shoulders to stiffen. “She’s a hybrid, which isn’t unexpected given her origin. But what did they pair her with?”
I frown. “She smells bad to you?”
“Not bad, just tainted,” he returns. “Why? How does she smell to you?”
“Refreshing,” I admit, glancing toward the doors she walked through several minutes ago. The rest of the court followed, leaving my brother and me to speak in private.
A typical session with an outsider—me in dragon form, my brother on my throne, and our trusted generals awaiting our command. Two took Alpha Keegan to a waiting suite. Two escorted the Omega to her evaluation. And the other four are likely in the corridor, guarding the doors but not listening in on our conversation.
“Refreshing,” my brother echoes. “That’s… an interesting description.”
“Is it?” I ask, feigning innocence as I call upon my magic to clothe my torso in my usual armor—enchanted gold.
My brother is similarly dressed, only his metal looks silver in nature because his affinity is for white gold, not yellow gold. Hence his silvery eyes.
Mine are yellow gold in contrast.
“You’re interested,” he says, sounding surprised. “Dozens of Omega mate offerings and it’s a mutt that calls to your dragon?” He whistles. “That beast always was fucking complicated.”
“First of all, I never claimed to be interested.” A fact, not a lie. “And second, stop referring to the Omega as amutt.” That final word barely escapes my clenched jaw, the term really pissing off my dragon.
A fiery energy stirs, one I know better than to provoke. I may be one with my beast, but his instincts are not always easy to control. Even instincts I don’t fully understand.
“I’m going to go observe the Omega’s evaluation,” I decide out loud, needing to understand my dragon’s interest.
Perhaps Taliana possesses some sort of mating energy or a magnetic pull. I’ll have to mention the possibility to Doctor Taylor.
Returning to my throne, I put on a pair of slipper-like shoes and grab my cloak to hook it to the gold adornments on my shoulders.
Traditional Drakonian garb. We all show off our metallic gifts, primarily to remind others of our power.
Gold marks me as a royal—my brother, too.
His armor flashes in the light as he ashes to stand before me, blocking my path to the door. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
I glance down at my attire, frowning. “A blade?” Isometimes carry a dagger on my hip, but it’s not a necessity since I can conjure one at will.
