The private dining room reeked of money—aged wine, polished wood, faint cigar smoke clinging to the velvet curtains. Power sat heavy in the air.
"Mr. Parker. You actually came," the man drawled from his seat at the head of the table, his alpha presence pressing through the room like heat. He lounged back, smirk tugging at his lips. "I was starting to think you'd ignore my invitation."
Claude's heels clicked softly against the marble as he stepped inside, all grace and poise, with Eren trailing behind. Claude's scent was carefully restrained—cool, composed—but Eren could feel the shift in the air when the older alpha's gaze snapped past Claude and landed squarely on him.
"This meeting is too important to miss," Claude replied smoothly, extending a manicured hand. "Ulrick Jewels doesn't turn down opportunities. I represent our brand—and I came to win."
The man's grip was firm, but his eyes never left Eren. Like Claude had predicted. Alphas like him were always the same—hunters drawn to rare prey. Eren's stomach tightened.
"And this is?" the alpha asked, gaze raking down.
"My secretary," Claude said simply, with the faintest curl of his lips. "Eren."
The alpha's smirk widened. He gestured to the chair beside him. "You'll sit here."
Eren hesitated, glancing at Claude. For a heartbeat, he hoped—hoped—Claude would redirect him, remind them all why they were here. But Claude only sipped his wine, deliberately avoiding his eyes, the smirk never leaving his face.
Eren's throat tightened. He obeyed.
The chair was too close. The alpha's heat radiated against his skin, his scent invasive. The moment Eren sat, a hand slid over his wrist. Possessive. Testing.
Eren stiffened, jerking back slightly. "Sir—"
"Relax," the man chuckled, leaning in. "Let's talk business."
Claude didn't even flinch. He leaned back in his chair, legs crossed elegantly, eyes half-lidded as if this were all beneath him. His omega scent stayed calm, detached, a sharp reminder that he wasn't going to intervene.
As the pitch began, Eren felt the alpha's hand graze his thigh under the table. He pulled away, heart pounding. His scent spiked—nervous, distressed—but Claude only glanced sideways at him, then at the alpha, a faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
He wasn't just allowing this. He was using it.
Eren bit his lip, shame twisting in his chest. He tried to focus on Claude's voice as he outlined Ulrick's expansion strategy, every word sharp and polished. But all he could feel was the weight of that alpha's hand creeping back onto his skin, the heat of his stare. And the silence—Claude's silence—was louder than anything else.
When Eren finally managed to pull free, pressing his palms flat against the table, Claude let out the faintest laugh. Soft. Cutting.
"Don't mind him," he told the alpha smoothly. "He's still learning how these dinners work. He'll adjust."
Eren's stomach dropped. His omega had just fed him to the wolves—and smiled while doing it.
Eren kept refusing the wine. His voice stayed polite, his tone steady, but his refusal was unyielding. He knew better than to risk alcohol while carrying. His instincts screamed at him to protect the fragile life inside him.
Claude, however, acted like it didn't matter. He poured another glass, swirling the red liquid lazily, as though he hadn't heard the refusals—or didn't care.
When the others finally left the table, leaving the two omegas alone in the hush of the restaurant, Eren turned to him. His voice was quiet, but sharp with restrained fury.
"What exactly are you trying to do? Is this how you earn an alpha's trust—by offering up your own kind?"
Claude arched a brow, lips curving in something too smooth to be a smile. "Don't be dramatic. All you had to do was entertain him. Did you forget Sanchez is one of Adriel's biggest clients? If you make a scene, do you think that won't reflect on Adriel's leadership?"
Eren's jaw tightened. His instincts prickled, protective rage simmering beneath his calm.
Claude leaned closer across the table, voice low, poisonous. "Oh, wait. I almost forgot. He didn't choose you because of love. He chose you because you were already carrying his heir. Convenient, wasn't it?"
Eren's hands curled into fists beneath the tablecloth. He bit his lip hard enough to taste iron, forcing himself not to snap back.
Claude's eyes gleamed, the cruel scent of dominance sharp in the air despite his omega status. "I don't know how you trapped him, but I won't let you ruin everything he's built. Ulrick is barely holding together. You're not going to be the reason it falls."
"Ruin—" Eren began, but the door swung open.
Sanchez stepped back inside, his alpha scent preceding him, the atmosphere in the room shifting. His gaze moved between them, noting the tension.
"Did I miss something?" he asked, voice smooth.
"No," Claude replied easily, mask slipping back into place. "We were just talking."
Eren turned his face away, his expression unreadable, his body taut with suppressed unease.
Sanchez moved closer, carrying a glass. "Since you didn't want wine, I asked them to bring you something sweeter. A strawberry blend—thought it might suit you better."
The glass was set before him. Eren hesitated, but the alpha's eyes were steady, expectant. His scent pressed down, coaxing, persuasive. Against his better judgment, Eren lifted the glass and took a sip.
The taste was sweet—too sweet. His stomach clenched.
Then the dizziness came. Sudden. Heavy. Wrong.
The room tilted on its axis. His vision blurred, the alpha's face warping into indistinct shapes. His body felt unmoored, instincts screaming, every protective urge flaring. Something's wrong. Something's wrong.
But the strength to resist was already slipping away.
Eren tried to stand, but his legs buckled under him. His balance was gone, his body sluggish and foreign. Then—hands. Large, firm. Possessive. Gripping his waist and arm like he already belonged to someone else.
Claude rose smoothly from his chair, the smug tilt of his mouth sharp as a blade. His scent shifted, victory and malice dripping into the air.
"Looks like he's all yours now."
The alpha chuckled, his pheromones rolling thick and heavy across the room, pressing down on Eren like a weight.
"Generous of you, Claude. Tell Adriel this deal won't go to waste. Especially not with a gift like this."
Their words tangled uselessly in Eren's fogged mind. His chest heaved, lungs fighting against the alpha's oppressive aura. The world smeared and spun as he was led away, unable to resist, his instincts smothered under a drugged haze and alpha command.
When awareness flickered back, he was on a bed. Soft sheets under his back. A scent saturating the air—soap, clean skin, and underneath it, the sharp musk of an alpha staking claim. His stomach churned. He tried to push himself upright, but his arms gave out. He collapsed against a solid chest.
The pheromones hit harder up close. Heavy. Overpowering. His body betrayed him, heat coiling low, instincts screaming danger and submission all at once. Eren shoved, desperate, his heart hammering. His legs failed, dropping him back into the alpha's arms.
"Don't fight it," the man whispered, his breath hot against Eren's ear. His scent wrapped around every word, commanding, suffocating. "You're not going anywhere. Relax. Make this easy, and Adriel's partnership will stay... smooth."
Eren's skin crawled. His breath caught in his throat. He shoved again, every nerve alight with revulsion.
The alpha's expression sharpened, patience thinning. His pheromones flared, flooding the air until Eren's vision swam.
"You act tough," he growled, pinning Eren against the mattress with one hand. "But we both know your body's already responding. Isn't this what you wanted?"
The words sliced through Eren's fog. This wasn't just wrong. This was dangerous.
Adrenaline surged, fighting the poison in his blood, cutting through the pheromone haze. His instincts snapped into survival mode. The alpha leaned closer, lips brushing too near, but Eren twisted, teeth bared, and shoved with everything left in him.
He stumbled to his feet, crashing into a table. The room lurched. The alpha lunged.
Eren's hand closed around a vase—cold, heavy, solid. His knuckles went white around it. With a raw, instinct-driven cry, he swung.
The impact cracked through the room like a thunderclap.