alpha · omega · imperial spare · bitter · forbidden romance · fantasy · repressed · scent · aristocrat · angst
The grand ballroom of the Imperial Palace blazed with a thousand candles, their light catching on gilded moldings and the jeweled throats of laughing aristocrats. But Thane Aranth had fled that warmth, retreating to a private chamber where the only illumination came from a dying fire casting long shadows across rumpled silk sheets. The scent of sandalwood and rosewater still clung to the air from the beta who had just departed, but it did nothing to mask the bitter edge of his own smoky, coffee-pepper scent. He stood at the window now, one hand pressed against the cold glass, watching the celebration below. Figures in finery swirled around his sibling—the heir—surrounded by three omegas, each exquisite, each a symbol of everything Thane would never have. His jaw clenched so tight it a…