Page 16 of First (After the End #1)

THE MORNING

Sofia

The Omega man from the previous night comes to fetch me just a couple of hours after the rise of the sun—which, incidentally, I witness in its entirety from the bed.

The servant quarters in House Larsen have no windows, and I’ve never experienced anything like the play of the light through the water: the eerie blue of the night becomes purple, then indigo, then softens into oranges.

I wonder if it looks like this every day. No way of knowing, because I’ll never be back to these quarters.

It’s a relief, I tell myself. And for the most part, I believe it.

“My lady,” the man says after clearing his throat, just as unhappy with my presence as last night. More, possibly. “I will escort you to breakfast.”

“I get breakfast?” I tilt my head. “Is that standard practice?”

“Excuse me?”

“Is it part of the whole Right thing, feeding an Omega after ripping them from the arms of their mate?”

“I wouldn’t know, as the general has never claimed the Right before yesterday.”

“First time for anything, hmm?” I wink at the man, who appears willing to risk a clog to flush me down the sealing system.

“The general often has Omegas spend the night with him, though,” he adds. “And yes, he does offer them a meal afterward.”

I’m not sure why my stomach drops at hearing that, and I don’t care to investigate the matter.

“What a gentleman. I’m Sofia, by the way.

” I hold out my hand and try not to laugh at the way he turns his nose up at me.

“And as a person who is clearly aware of social mores, I assume you’ll tell me your name any second now… ?”

“Bastian,” he says after a long pause, looking like he ate something sour. “I serve the general as his seneschal.”

Have I heard this name before? Yes. Recently. Very recently. But the memory is fuzzy, and I cannot place it. “Nice to meet you, Bastian.”

“I wish I could say the same, Lady Larsen. Follow me, please. And,” he adds, letting his eyes fall to my torso, “I will expect you to return the tunic and pants you stole from the general’s closet. “

I look down at the too-big clothes I have to practically beg to stay on my body and wonder why on earth I would want to steal them. Still, I try to match his gravity. “I shall strive not to disappoint you, Bastian.”

We wind through a handful of austere corridors that have nothing of the opulence I know from House Larsen.

At the end of them is a dining room, and Gabriel sits at table inside it.

He’s on a bench and not at the head. The moment we appear at the entrance, he glances up and turns off the holo blueprint he’s studying.

There are a handful of dirty plates scattered around him, hinting that others were present but recently left.

When he gestures for me to take a seat across from him, I ignore the leap in my heart and brush past Bastian.

As I do, a whiff of something familiar hits my nose.

I halt.

“The deputy commander,” I murmur, halting in my tracks.

“Excuse me?”

“You smell like the Alpha woman who escorted me here last night. The deputy commander. Are you her Omega?”

His eyes widen. “I thought cold Omegas were supposed to be as bad as Betas when it comes to scents.”

“Yeah. We usually are.” In my experience, at least, I’ve never been able to tell things such as who was mated to whom before today. It’s weird, and I’d dedicate some time to wondering why, but Bastian leaves, and I have no choice but to go sit in front of Gabriel.

The morning light slips inside through another window, caressing the handsome, sharp features of his face, painting his hair silver-white, transporting me to last night’s dream against my will.

Today he’s not wearing his armor, and yet he manages to look even more imposing than usual.

Perhaps because the illusion that his bulk might be caused by something other than muscles is completely shattered.

“You look good in military blue, Lady Larsen.”

I glance down at the shirt, which reaches nearly to my knees. I don’t look good. I look tired and disheveled and probably foolish, too. “Everyone here really loves calling me that, huh?”

“It’s your new title.”

“And your new favorite insult.”

He turns his head away, like maybe he hopes that I won’t catch the smile on his lips. I let him think whatever he wants as I glance at the breads and jams laid out in front of me, the basket of pastries, the coffee steaming from the mug.

I usually roll out of bed late and scarf down a protein unit on my way to work. Every night, I take tea with Lady Larsen, and usually there is an assortment of sweet treats to go with it, but this is just too much luxury for me. “I’m not sure I’ve done anything to earn this spread, General.”

“Oh,” he says cryptically, “you certainly did.”

I tilt my head. Study the way he studies me. “Why were you called away last night?”

“Eat.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing to concern you. You didn’t have dinner last night—eat.”

“What happened, General?”

“Out of curiosity, have you ever done as you’re told?”

“Once or twice. What happened?”

He sighs. I think he’s stopped pretending that he doesn’t enjoy the back talk. “Same old, same old. Let’s call it a random accident. Two engineers were involved.”

“What? Take me there. I can help the healers who—”

“They are now in Valhalla, Sofia.”

My jaw drops. “What were their names? I have a lot of friends among the engineers. Some of my father’s former soldiers practically raised me—”

“They’re fine.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“I can. None of the victims ever worked with your father.”

I glare at him. “You can’t know that.”

“I know my army.”

I think about treating his wound ten years ago and think, I don’t doubt it. “What went wrong?”

“What a question. Maybe when I send you back, you should ask it to your beloved mate. I’m sure he’d have some great insight.”

“Lennart is a healer. He would never do anything like that.”

“What about his father? Your new father.”

The words feel like a slap. “Do not ever say that again,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

“I had a father, and Lord Larsen isn’t worthy of being mentioned in the same sentence as him.

There is little I would put past that man, including killing engineers in cold blood.

But Lennart wouldn’t stand by and let him. ”

A short, bitter laugh. “No member of that family has done jack shit to stop Lord Larsen. They all know, and they are all complicit.”

I think about Lady Larsen. Lara. Lennart. They may be spineless, but they wouldn’t allow anything like that, I know it. Still, I would love an opportunity to ask them directly. Just to be sure. “Am I allowed to leave?”

Gabriel spends a minute thinking about it, clearly savoring his power over my whereabouts. “Not yet.”

“The first night is over.”

He leans forward, elbows on each side of his plate. “Is it? Because I feel like I didn’t quite…” He drifts off. Freezes. At once, his nostrils widen as he inhales deeply. After a moment he lets out a low “fuck.”

“Fuck?”

His pupils are little more than pinpricks. “Do you always smell like this in the morning?”

“I…” I last showered before the ceremony. This morning I washed my face, just like every day. I haven’t done enough to work up an odor. “Smell like what?”

“Like…” He shakes his head as if to expel something from it.

I inhale, too, but all I can smell is the yeast of the bread.

And, of course, Gabriel’s powerful, lovely Alpha scent.

This morning, when I woke up in his bed, it hit me even harder than last night.

So hard, all I want is to grab his palm and bring it to my face and bite into his wrist. I want to lick him and feel his taste against the roof of my mouth.

I want to bury my nose into his skin and just breathe.

What the hell is wrong with me? Less than a minute ago, we were talking about people dying.

“What’s a cold Omega?” Gabriel asks.

“I… Excuse me?”

“You’re a healer. Explain it to me like I’m the ignorant fuck we both know I am. What’s wrong with a cold Omega, physically? Biologically?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because I’m curious.”

I click my tongue, annoyed, wondering whether he’s experimenting with a new twisted way to hurt me.

But then I hear myself say, “We’re just…

The development of our Omega sexual characteristics halted abruptly, and no drugs or lifestyle changes were able to restart it.

” He seems lost in thought. I notice the deep frown on his brow, and wonder what it would take to smooth it over. “Sir? Are you okay?”

He clears his throat. Shifts back, as if to get away from me. “Yes, Lady Larsen.”

I roll my eyes. “You know, I’ve been considering this matter.”

“Which one?”

“Whether it’s correct for you to call me that. Since my mating with Lennart is not yet complete—thanks to you—I don’t think you should.” A beat. “Yet.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw. Still, he smiles. “Yet.”

“Are you going to send me back untouched? Or are you here to finish what you started?” I tilt my head. “Or what you didn’t start?”

“I’m here because I got hungry following my morning sparring session.”

Despite myself, I laugh. “I bet you’re the kind of Alpha who wakes up two hours before everyone else to train.”

“And I bet you’re the kind of Omega who stays up two hours longer than everyone else to read.”

How does he know?

We stare at each other, and I could swear that his lips are twitching upward.

“Is your seneschal really mated to your deputy commander? Did I get it right?”

“You did. Yes.”

Wow. Look at me go. “Does he treat all the Omegas who share your bed like they’re fish excrement?”

“What if I told you that there hasn’t been anyone else?”

“I’d ask if you hit your head while sparring.”

He laughs. “I do fuck Omegas. But not in my bed.”

“How so?”

“I find that their scents tend to linger. Overstay their welcome.”

That explains why his quarters smell only like him.

“Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “I won’t make the mistake of thinking that being the exception makes me special.

” I cock my head in something that could almost be friendly.

Flirty, Lara would call it. “What really makes me special is that you haven’t taken me, isn’t it? ”

It’s his turn to say, “Yet. I haven’t taken you yet, Sofia.” I briefly wonder if he plans to wipe the table clean with his arm and fuck me right on top of it in the next three minutes, right before I’m allowed to return home.

For a split second, the look in his eyes has me almost certain he’s considering the same.

“Is that why Bastian wants to feed me to the oceans? Because I’m soiling your room with my scent?”

“Bastian has no say in what I get off to. The reason he doesn’t like you is your unfortunate association with the Larsens—and because of his allegiance to Martia.”

“What does that mean? Why would that make her hate me?”

“Martia and I were engineering soldiers together.”

“I still don’t understand. How would that make her hate—”

“We served under Kuznetsov.”

I pause, surprised and confused. The truth is, I knew from my father that the soldier who would go on to become General Agard had served under him for a period of time.

But that was a while ago, and I had no way of knowing if Gabriel remembered or even cared about an old commanding officer.

The fact that he did makes me absolutely delighted.

I miss my father. Enjoy hearing him brought up.

Relish any opportunity to discuss him. “Why didn’t… ?”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Were you aware that I was his daughter? Why didn’t you say that before?”

His laughter is of the hollow, angry kind. “There’s no need to pretend, Sofia. This is very disingenuous, even for a newly minted Larsen.”

“I… Excuse me? Pretend what?”

“That you didn’t have us banned from his funeral.”

My mouth falls open. “I didn’t.”

“Lady Larsen spoke to my seneschal herself. She said that you didn’t want us there—”

“Gabriel, I would never. When my father died, even if I cared about political allegiances or about what the hell happened between you and Lord Larsen, I would have never prevented someone who cared about my father from… There must have been a misunderstanding. Lady Larsen wouldn’t—”

“I think,” he growls, his icy eyes suddenly inches from mine, “you will find that when it comes to you, Lady Larsen absolutely would.”

We regard each other, a heavy silence between us as I try to untangle his words. If Lady Larsen indeed told Bastian something like that, she must have meant well. Perhaps she was afraid that the general’s presence would lead to tensions that might ruin the ceremony.

“I gave her a message for you,” Gabriel says. “A letter. Did she pass it along?”

I swallow. Shake my head. Glance at the large circular window while I massage my sternum to soothe the hollow ache in my chest. “What did it say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” His tone seems to suggest the opposite. “No need to worry your oblivious little head over it, Lady Larsen. You are very good at not noticing what happens around you.”

“How dare you—”

“Gabe,” someone calls from the entrance.

It’s Martia. But I don’t turn toward her, and neither does Gabriel.

“They’re here,” she adds.

“Tell Lennart that he’s going to have to wait until I’m done using his mate,” Gabriel orders.

I should flinch at the crude words, but they simply don’t hurt enough. Maybe I’m too angry. Or maybe it’s the idea that it elicits—him really using me like an Alpha would an Omega. It makes my belly warmer. Instantly, as if in response, Gabriel’s nostrils flare.

“It’s not Lennart,” Martia says.

At last, we look at her with twin scowls.

“Who did they send?” Gabriel asks.

“Four guards.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

His frown etches deeper. “You’re joking, right? You can’t be fucking serious.”

“What did you expect from a spineless coward like Lennart?” Martia sneers.

I should object to that. Defend my mate. Say that they shouldn’t talk about him like that, but… My head spins, and I cannot make sense of what I’m feeling. It is odd that Lennart, with whom I should have spent last night, is suddenly too busy to show up for me.

Even odder is Gabriel’s slow, triumphant cheek-to-cheek grin. He stands without a word, heading outside the dining room.

After a moment of hesitation, I run after him.