Three Alpha Princes for an Unwanted Omega

AYLA

”Stand up straight, Ayla.”

I straightened my spine until I thought it might crack.

The instructor was a thin woman named Madam Orla, with gray hair pulled so tight it stretched the corners of her eyes. She had been a tutor for the royal ladies for ten years, and she had made it clear within the first five minutes that she did not appreciate having an Omega in her classroom.

She circled me slowly, her lips pursed in disgust.

”Not like that. I want your shoulders back,” she snapped. ”Chin up. The book must not fall.”

A thick leather-bound volume sat balanced on my head. Every time I moved, it wobbled.

I had been walking back and forth across the room for what felt like hours. My calves and neck ached.

”Wider strides,” Madam Orla said. ”You walk like a servant. Small, quick steps. You are a lady now. Move like one.”

I adjusted my stride but the book wobbled, bouncing off my head and landing to the ground with a loud thud.

A snicker came from the corner.

Willow sat to the side, her lips curved in a smirk as she watched me struggle.

”Perhaps she needs a smaller book,” one of the girls said.

”Or a larger head,” another added.

They laughed.

Madam Orla did not tell them to be quiet.

I kept walking. One foot in front of the other. My arms stayed at my sides the way she had shown me.

”You are tilting to the left,” she called out.

I corrected my stance immediately.

”Now you are tilting to the right.”

I tried to correct it but the book slid down again. I grabbed it before it could hit the floor.

”You truly are hopeless.”

She walked around me again before addressing the class.

”This, ladies, is precisely why breeding matters.”

I stiffened.

”You may wrap an Omega in silk but breeding always reveals itself.”

The girls laughed at her crude joke while tears stung the corner of my eyes.

”Walk with grace.” She sighed loudly. ”Not like you are carrying a bucket of laundry.”

Willow burst into laughter.

”Perhaps that is all she knows.”

The instructor nodded thoughtfully.

”I suppose that is true.”

”And I suppose we could ask you how you managed to become a royal lady, madam Orla but I think we all know what that answer is.”

Everyone turned, including me to direction of the person that had spoken.

Damon stood in the doorway, his arms crossed with a lazy smile on his lips.

”Prince Damon.” Madam Orla bowed her head. ”I was merely instructing...”

He put a hand up, silencing her.

”I couldn’t help overhearing that you were discussing breeding.”

Madam Orla smiled nervously.

”We were merely...”

”Weren’t you born the daughter of a butcher?”

Her face drained of color.

”My prince...”

”I asked you a question.”

”Yes.”

”And then Lord Harrow married you.”

She lowered her eyes.

”Yes.”

”Interesting.” He said, tilting his head to the side. ”So someone else’s choice elevated your station, is that correct?”

”Yes, my lord.”

”Tell me, Madam Orla, how many powerful men did you warm the beds of before Lord Harrow decided to have you?”

Madam Orla looked like she had been slapped across the face.

”My lord...”

”You will answer my question and answer them directly.”

”Five.” She spat out.

”So you were a mistress to five men before you were picked.”

Murmurs rocked the classroom.

I stood with my mouth agape, staring at Damon.

What is he doing? I thought.

”Yes, my lord.” Madam Orla muttered.

She looked like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. I suddenly felt sorry for her.

”That’s enough.” I spoke up.

Damon turned glittering eyes to me. For a moment, I thought he would ignore my request.

”Please” I added.

His gaze swept over me.

”Class is dismissed for the day.” He announced.

The girls scrambled to their feet, gathering their things. Willow rose to her feet, staring right at Damon who did not look at her.

Soon the door clicked shut behind them and then it was just the two of us.

Damon walked toward me slowly, his amber eyes dragging over me from head to toe.

”You were doing it all wrong,” he said.

I blinked.

Of all the things I had expected him to say, that was not it.

”Excuse me?”

”Your posture.” He circled me, his voice flat. ”Your shoulders were too tight. You were fighting the book instead of letting it settle. No wonder it kept falling.”

I stared at him.

”Why did you do that?” I demanded. ”You just made things worse with the girls and now my instructor.”

”Not everything is about you, Ayla. At least not to me.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he reached out for the book, prying it free from my hands then he lifted it and placed it on his own head.

”What are you doing?” I asked.

He began to walk.

The book sat perfectly still on his head, not even a tilt of a wobble. He walked the length of the room, turned, and walked back.

I stared at him in open mouthed shock.

”How did you know how to do that?”

Damon stopped in front of me.

”It is not as hard as you are making it seem.” He said, tossing the book on one of the cushions.

He stepped closer, invading my personal space.

I stepped back but he kept coming until my back hit the wall.

Damon’s hands then came up on either side of my head, caging me in. He leaned forward, his face inches from mine. His eyes traveled over my face then he inclined his head and inhaled.

”You are aroused, little Omega. I can smell you.”

My breath caught in my throat.

”I don’t know what you are talking about.” I sputtered.

I clenched my thighs together as if that would stop the moisture now seeping into my panties.

The smirk on his face only widened at my words.

”Is that so? Should we check?”

Before I could stop him, his hand dropped to the hem of my dress, shoving the fabric up roughly, past my knees until it was bunched around my waist.

”Damon, what are you... get off me.” I tried to shove him but he did not budge.

His fingers found the heat between my legs. I gasped as they pressed against the wetness that had gathered there, sliding through it, spreading it.

My body betrayed me instantly.

My hips bucked into his hand and a throaty moan escaped my lips.

I wanted to stop him but my body was on fire and my mind was hazy and the feel of his fingers against my slick skin sent waves of pleasure through me that I could not control.

His thumb found my clit. He flicked it and I cried out, clutching unto his shoulders.

He growled low in his throat.

”You are soaked,” he said, leaning in, so his lips were brushing my ear. ”Tell me to stop now, Ayla.”

I could not speak against the feel of his fingers circling my entrance.

His fingers pressed deeper and I moaned.

Then he pulled back.

He stepped away from me so fast I nearly stumbled. My dress fell back into place, but I could still feel the ghost of his fingers between my thighs.

Damon raised his hand, staring at his fingers glistening with my wetness in wonder then he brought them to his mouth.

His lips parted and he slid his fingers inside, slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. His tongue curled around them, tasting me.

He groaned, his eyes closing.

When they opened, they were glowing and his canines... they were protruding, elongating past his lips.

I gasped.

He was mid-transformation.

Damon took a step toward me.

I pressed myself harder against the wall, my heart slamming against my ribs.

His eyes fixed on me like I was prey.

”Fuck,” he breathed, his voice rough. ”What are you?”