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Chapter Four

Lilianna

T he salmon on my plate was perfectly cooked, arranged on a bed of risotto with asparagus tips artfully placed along the edge.

It looked too beautiful to disturb, but my hunger finally overcame my hesitation.

I took a small, careful bite, trying to maintain the composure my mother had drilled into me— "A proper Omega never appears too eager about anything, especially food. "

"Is it to your liking?" Julian asked, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.

I nodded, swallowing before answering. "It's delicious. Thank you."

"You can take bigger bites, you know," Miles said with a hint of amusement. "We won't report back to your mother that you actually enjoyed your dinner."

Heat crept into my cheeks again. Was I so transparent? So obviously trained?

"It's not your fault," Christopher said gently, as if reading my thoughts. "Years of conditioning don't disappear overnight."

I set my fork down carefully, studying the four men across from me. They seemed so at ease with themselves, so comfortable in their own skin. It was a stark contrast to the careful performance I'd been living my entire life.

"May I ask you something?" I said, surprising myself with my boldness.

Julian nodded. "Of course."

"Why did you really want to meet with me alone? Without my parents?" The question had been burning in my mind since the moment they'd made the request. "Most Alphas prefer to negotiate directly with the family."

Nicolaus leaned forward, his analytical gaze sharpening. "Because most Alphas are looking for a transaction, not a relationship."

"We've been through this process before," Julian added, his voice taking on a harder edge.

"Other families, other arrangements. Every time, the Omega was just an accessory to the negotiation.

A silent party to her own future." He paused, studying me.

"We wanted to know if you were truly as.

.. programmed as your parents presented you to be. "

"And?" I asked softly, holding my breath.

Julian's eyes met mine directly. "I think there's more to you than they've allowed to surface."

The assessment hit me like a physical touch—gentle but startling. No one had ever suggested I might be more than what I appeared to be. The possibility was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Our pack functions differently than most," Christopher explained, his tone conversational but serious. "We don't believe in hierarchy for its own sake."

"That's unusual," I observed carefully. It was common knowledge that traditional packs operated on strict power structures, with the Alpha at the top and everyone else arranged below.

"It is," Julian agreed, setting down his fork. "But it works for us. We each have our strengths, our areas of expertise. My role as Alpha isn't to command—it's to coordinate."

"To listen," Miles added, his green eyes finding mine. "An Alpha who doesn't listen is just a dictator with fancy teeth."

That startled another laugh from me—louder this time, more genuine. I quickly covered my mouth, embarrassed by my outburst.

"You have a beautiful laugh," Christopher said simply. "You shouldn't hide it."

I lowered my hand slowly, uncertain how to respond to such direct praise.

"Your parents mentioned you've never been scented by an Alpha," Nicolaus said, changing the subject with his characteristic directness. "Is that true?"

My stomach tightened. "Yes. They believe it's important for an Omega to remain...untouched in every way until formal arrangements are made."

"Untouched," Miles repeated, his tone making the word sound medieval. "As if scenting is somehow a violation."

Julian set his wine glass down carefully. "Scenting is natural. It's how we recognize compatibility, how we build trust. Preventing it is like..." He paused, searching for the right comparison.

"Like blindfolding someone their entire life and then expecting them to choose a painting," Christopher finished.

Nicolaus nodded. "It's biologically counterproductive. Scent compatibility is one of the most reliable indicators of a successful bond."

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable with discussing something so intimate with such clinical detachment. "My parents believe an Omega should adapt to any Alpha's scent. That preference is a modern indulgence."

Miles made a sound of disgust. "That's not just wrong, it's cruel. Forcing incompatible scents together doesn't create adaptation—it creates misery."

"Have you ever been around other Alphas long enough to notice their scent?" Julian asked quietly. "In any context?"

I considered the question, thinking back through years of carefully supervised interactions. "Only briefly. At formal events, always with my parents present." I paused, remembering. "Most of them made me feel...uncomfortable. On edge."

"How so?" Nicolaus pressed, his clinical interest evident.

"Sharp. Aggressive. Like they were trying to overwhelm rather than communicate." I struggled to find the right words. "It felt like being shouted at, even when they weren't speaking."

Christopher nodded knowingly. "Dominant posturing. Some Alphas think projecting maximum aggression makes them more appealing."

"It's the opposite of what scenting should be," Julian said, his voice carrying a note of disdain. "True compatibility isn't about dominance—it's about harmony."

"What does it feel like when it's right?" I asked, then immediately regretted the question. It was too personal, too revealing of my ignorance.

But Julian didn't seem put off by my curiosity. If anything, his expression softened. "Like coming home," he said simply. "Like recognition at a level deeper than conscious thought."

Miles nodded in agreement. "It should feel safe. Calming. Not overwhelming."

I found myself leaning forward slightly, drawn in despite myself. "And if there's no compatibility?"

"Then there's no point in proceeding," Nicolaus stated matter-of-factly. "No amount of negotiation or financial incentive can overcome biological incompatibility."

I absorbed his words, trying to reconcile them with everything I'd been taught. The idea that scent compatibility could overrule family arrangements and financial considerations seemed almost revolutionary.

"My parents never mentioned that as a factor," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

Julian's expression darkened slightly. "I'm not surprised. It would introduce an element they can't control."

"Would you..." I hesitated, gathering my courage. "Would you want to know if we're compatible? Now?"

The question hung in the air between us. I watched as the four men exchanged glances, another silent communication passing between them.

"Only if you're comfortable with it," Julian finally said, his voice gentle but serious. "Scenting should always be consensual."

"I am," I said, surprising myself with my certainty. "I want to know."

Julian nodded, then rose from his chair with fluid grace. He moved around the table until he stood beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him, but not so close that I felt trapped.

"May I?" he asked, extending his hand.

I nodded, my heart hammering against my ribs as he carefully took my hand in his. His fingers were warm, calloused in places. These were working hands, strong and certain.

"I'll keep this simple," Julian explained, his voice low and reassuring. "Just a basic scent exchange. Nothing invasive."

He lifted my wrist gently, bringing it near—but not touching—his neck, where his scent would be strongest. In return, he leaned slightly closer to my own pulse point, inhaling slowly.

The moment his scent reached me, everything changed.

It wasn't the sharp, aggressive tang I'd grown accustomed to from other Alphas.

Instead, Julian's scent washed over me like warm cloves and something deeper—clean rain on summer earth, with an undertone of something uniquely him that I couldn't name but recognized instantly.

My body relaxed without my permission, tension I hadn't even realized I was carrying melting from my shoulders.

"Oh," I breathed, the sound escaping before I could stop it.

Julian's eyes widened slightly as he caught my scent in return. His grip on my wrist tightened almost imperceptibly, and I watched something shift in his expression—surprise, recognition, and something warmer that made my pulse flutter.

"Well," he said quietly, his voice rougher than before. "That's... unexpected."

"Good unexpected or bad unexpected?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Julian didn't answer immediately. His thumb brushed across my inner wrist, a touch so light it might have been accidental, but the contact sent a current of awareness through me that made it hard to breathe.

"Very good," he finally said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Extraordinarily good."

He released my hand slowly, reluctantly, and stepped back. The loss of contact felt like stepping from warmth into cold, and I had to resist the urge to reach for him again.

"Christopher," Julian said, his voice carefully controlled. "Would you like to confirm?"

I glanced up, startled. I hadn't expected the others would want to scent me as well, though it made sense—if I were to join their pack, compatibility with all of them mattered.

Christopher approached with a gentle smile that eased some of my nervousness. "Only if you're comfortable," he said, echoing Julian's earlier words. "No pressure."

I nodded, extending my hand to him. Christopher's touch was different from Julian's—lighter, more playful, but equally warm. When he brought my wrist close to his throat, I caught his scent and felt another wave of recognition wash over me.

Where Julian had been warm earth and spice, Christopher carried notes of cedar and something bright like citrus, with an underlying warmth that reminded me of honey. Not overwhelming, not demanding—just welcoming. Safe.