Unnatural - Alessandra Hazard Page 0,5

Galactic Council representative, Lord Chancellor Ksar’ngh’chaali.” He tripped over the name and sighed. “Or Lord Ksar, as he allowed us to call him, because we kept butchering his name.”

Ah. So that man was an off-worlder. It explained why he smelled off. Although the vast majority of the races in the galaxy looked similar enough, there were still enough differences in every species’ biology to make every race unique.

“His people don’t have designations?” Haydn murmured, glancing back at Cleghorn and quickly looking away. He didn’t know why this man was making him so uncomfortable.

Cleghorn shook his head. “He’s a Calluvian. Be careful with your thoughts. He’s a telepath.”

Haydn suppressed a shudder of unease. There were not all that many telepathic species in the Union, thank fuck. He could protect himself from physical weapons and brute power. Telepathic onslaught was another matter entirely.

He found himself taking an involuntary step away from the telepath—and right into Cleghorn’s personal space.

Cleghorn stiffened, his neutral scent spiking with something that smelled like the air after a thunderstorm.

The side of Haydn’s neck prickled. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that his neck was bare.

He quickly stepped away from Cleghorn, unease churning in his gut.

Fuck.

He had no idea why this beta put him so on edge.

***

Haydn Schaefer was somehow exactly what he had expected and nothing like it at the same time.

Royce tried not to frown as he eyed the prince, who was speaking to King Stefan across the room.

“If you keep glaring at him, people are going to notice,” Belinda said, touching his arm. “Stop glaring.”

“I’m not glaring,” Royce said stiffly.

His little sister rolled her eyes. “Fine. Stop staring, then. You’re being rude.” She looked at him curiously. “That’s not like you.”

She was right: it wasn’t.

Royce forced himself to look away. He shoved his clenched fists into the pockets of his suit pants and took a deep breath. Calm. He could be calm. This wasn’t him.

“You’re lucky, brother,” Belinda said. “He’s very charming. And so handsome.”

Royce smiled ruefully at his younger sister. “Of course you would think that. You’re an omega.”

Belinda smacked him on the arm, grinning good-naturedly. “I resent that! Just because he’s an alpha, it doesn’t mean I must find him attractive. He does smell good, though.”

Royce certainly didn’t share that opinion. Haydn Schaefer’s scent made his hackles rise more than any other alpha’s did. The prince’s strong scent, a mix of leather, iron, and campfire, rubbed Royce the wrong way, making him want to posture and prove himself superior. The primitive urge only irritated him. He had always prided himself on never participating in the alpha male posturing. He wasn’t an uncivilized animal. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted so badly to another alpha.

Fuck, this marriage was going to be a disaster.

The only saving grace was the fact that the prince was unexpectedly mild-tempered for an alpha. He hadn’t reacted to Royce’s instinctive posturing at all. He just smiled neutrally and seemed… nice. It threw Royce off balance. He had expected a typical arrogant alpha. Instead, he was the one who had ended up acting like the dreaded cliché.

“Admit it, he’s very attractive,” Belinda said, elbowing him.

Royce glanced at the prince. “He’s too tall.” And too alpha.

“His height is perfect, you ass. He’s your height!”

Royce grimaced. He didn’t bother telling his baby sister that he was attracted to petite omegas half his size. Although Belinda knew he was an alpha, Royce often thought that she forgot about his real designation or didn’t give it much thought. He was just an older brother for her, not a sexual being or his designation.

“Sometimes alphas fall for alphas,” Belinda murmured in a very quiet voice, proving that she did remember his designation after all. “Don’t be so closed-minded, brother. Maybe it’ll work out.”

Royce suppressed another grimace. It wasn’t a matter of him being closed-minded or old-fashioned. He wasn’t. He was the head of the Liberal party for a reason. Unfortunately, his tastes were very traditional: he simply didn’t find alphas attractive. All they managed to provoke in him was alertness or dislike—usually. His reaction to Haydn Schaefer was more extreme, for some bizarre reason.

“He has a gorgeous smile,” Belinda said.

“Then maybe you should marry him,” Royce said dryly.

Belinda laughed. Kissing him on the cheek, she walked away, toward their mother, who was speaking with the marriage officiant. Or rather, a marriage officiant, because there were two of them—a Kadarian and a Pelugian—so that the marriage would be recognized by both countries’ laws.

Royce