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Jared can smell a loser a mile away.
The acrid tang of panic, the sour bite of self-delusion. It’s a stink he knows well.
They’re necessary, really. You can’t win if someone doesn’t lose. There is balance in this, as in all things – Light and Dark, Alpha and Omega, Debtor and Stakeholder.
Thomas Ackles is about to tip the balance too far. Jared doesn’t need his keen wolf’s sight to notice the white of his knuckles gripping the overstuffed arm of Lady Marva’s chair, or to count the dwindling cache of chips piled on the green felt.
“How much is he in for?”
Jared slides into Lady Marva’s private booth, the fine linen of his pants gliding over smooth velvet. Marva’s opulence is as boundless as her coffers, and as carefully managed as her house debts.
“Five million and counting.”
Marva takes a sip of her chartreuse martini and tucks a curl of black hair back into her elaborate chignon. A discreet wire trails from behind her ear, not that Marva needs the steady stream of intel from her well-placed spies and security team. She’s brilliant, especially for a human, and Jared knows full well she has a tally on every wolf, banshee, fury, siren and errant human currently gambling at her tables.
“Is he good for it?”
Jared waves away an eager waitress, kitsune by the scent of her. He’s here for business, not pleasure.
Marva arches a razor-thin eyebrow.
“That depends on how attached he is to the family estate.”
“The Light do love their country grounds.”
Jared runs his tongue over the backs of his teeth. The Ackles clan is one of the oldest of the White Wolf families, as deeply entrenched in the Light as they are in their Georgian mansion and its primeval woods. Selling would bring unspeakable disgrace and scandal.
“A shame. I so rarely have to bring collections to one of the Light.”
Jared placidly ignores the subtle dig at his own Court. It’s harmless coming from Marva. While Marva’s frail human body is nothing Jared could ever envy, it lent her something no Fey could ever attain: neutrality. While the players at her tables veered more to Jared’s own fealty to the Dark, it’s not uncommon for the more daring members of the Light Court to spend an evening courting Lady Luck.
“Yes, a shame, certainly.”
Jared looks past the throngs of Fey bodies to Thomas’ hunched form. Jared doesn’t believe in luck.
“Lady Marva.”
Jared steeples his hands together, meeting Marva’s gaze with his own golden gleam.
“Would you be open to making a deal?”
Marva leans in, all soft cleavage and sharp business acumen.
“I’m listening.”
*
Marva’s back rooms are all awash in rich velvets and heavy brocades. While most mistake it for showmanship or human vanity, Jared knows that all that heavy fabric hides excellent soundproofing and more than a few stray bulletholes. The door closes behind him with barely a whisper of red.
“Mr. Ackles, thank you for meeting with me. I’m Jared Padalecki, Alpha of Clan –”
“I know who you are.”
Thomas paces about, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His hair has turned to silver, but he still has the shocking light eyes of all the White Wolves.
“And it’s not like I had a choice.”
He glares at Marva’s guard, standing stone-faced and silent in the corner. Jared would trust her with even the most sensitive deal, let alone his simple offer to Thomas Ackles. While her discretion is surely impeccable, it’s not as though Marva lets them keep their own tongues anyway.
“Please sit, Mr. Ackles.”
Jared slides into one of the overstuffed armchairs and motions for Thomas to do the same. He perches on the edge of a button-tufted cushion as though the very softness of the fabric offends him. Fucking Light Court.
“I understand you find yourself in a rather … delicate situation.”
The sneer on Thomas’ face is impressive for a man so deeply in debt and so clearly out of his element.
“I’m not interested in any Dark Court loan shark.”
“I’m not offering you a loan.” Jared lets the ice in his drink clink against the glass. Thomas’ sweat reeks of swaddled anxiety.
“Oh, I see.” Thomas sits up to his full height.
“If you think I’m selling an inch of Ackles land to one of you filthy Dark Court mongrels –”
“I don’t want your tennis courts, you old fool.” Jared rolls his eyes. This old bastard has a gem hidden in his precious mansion and he doesn’t even know it.
“It is, as they say, a truth universally acknowledged that a single wolf in possession of a good fortune, must find himself in want of … a mate.”
Jared takes a sip of his scotch, savoring the burn in his throat and the look of dawning horror on Thomas’ face.
“My daughter is mated to –”
“Yes, yes, bred off to some milquetoast White Wolf, I honestly couldn’t care less.”
Jared leans forward, letting his palms splay out to their full breadth.
“I’d like to offer you five million dollars, Mr. Ackles, as a bridesprice for your son.”
“My son? But Jensen’s –”
“An omega? That’s what my sources tell me. News travels, Mr. Ackles, even to filthy Dark Court mongrels like myself.” Jared smiles and leans back in his chair.
“He’s … he’s only seventeen,” Thomas says weakly.
“And thus unaligned, yes. Although I was under the impression you Light wolves like to follow the old ways, which makes him overdue for his mating, doesn’t it?”
Jensen watches the wheels of Thomas’ mind turn.
“Unless he already has another offer for marriage?”
Jared knows full well that Jensen doesn’t. Omegas suffered all the prejudice and superstition of the hidebound Light Court, meaning Jensen is lucky he wasn’t drowned as a pup.
“None as … generous as yours.” Thomas’ pride, greed, and ultimately common sense fight a brief battle over his furrowed brow before he offers his hand to Jared.
“I’ll have a contract sent over tomorrow.”
Jared sits back in his chair, as comfortable in the lush dark as Thomas is uneasy.
Jared’s always made his own luck.
*
Brides are supposed to wear white.
Sandwiched between his father’s offensively beige suit and his mother’s dusty rose matron’s gown, Jensen and the Ackles clan march down the aisle, cutting a grim swathe of Light through the tasteful black suits and evening gowns of Jared’s Dark Court guests.
Jared’s assistant had handled all the wedding details. The Great Hall of the Eastern Unseelie glimmers with candles and exotic floral arrangements that are surely costing him an obscene amount of money. The scent of night-blooming jasmine fills the room, spilling out over the marriage altar and down the aisles of eager guests. Jared had done everything in his considerable power to keep his mate-to-be a secret, only dropping vague hints about fresh blood and Light Court scandal. As intended, it had gotten RSVPs from every name on his list, from the Banshee queen to the Morrigan herself. She narrows her eyes as the Ackles parents walk their virgin son down the aisle.
If a bride is supposed to be a vision in white, pure as snow and just as frigidly unsullied, Jensen is a poor offering. His dove-gray suit would be perfect for a day in court or a distant cousin’s First Moon ceremony, but it’s insultingly pedestrian for what should be the most important day in an omega boy’s life. Jared smooths a hand down his own tuxedo, tailored to a second skin and just as soft. If his own parents were still alive they’d be insulted. Jared just smiles at the beautiful boy walking toward him. A diamond in the rough is still a precious thing.
None of the pictures had done Jensen justice. Jared had known he’d be appealing, he wasn’t about to get himself into something he couldn’t consummate. But beauty captured can flicker and fade away in real life, erased by a bad temper or a greedy glint in the eye. Jensen’s wide, nervous eyes, the fullness of his quivering lip, the unanswered press of his hand on his mother’s arm – Jensen in the flesh is infinitely more appealing than Jared could have hoped.
Jensen’s eyes are down as his parents shuffle him along. Thomas takes every step with a grimace of displeasure, like the red carpet beneath his feet might rear up and molest him at any moment. Mrs. Ackles either hates the scent of jasmine or perpetually looks like she smelled something foul.
The din of conversation lulls as Jensen takes his place at the altar. His parents disappear to their seats and leave Jensen to his fate, more reminiscent of dropping off a pet to be put to sleep than a beloved child to his future mate. Jensen’s eyes dart down to the floor as Jared turns to look at him.
He’s tall for an omega, the tawny gold crown of his hair reaching past Jared’s shoulder. He’s slim, delicate, with a small waist that makes Jared’s hands itch to circle it. Jared steals glances at his face as the Elder drones on about love eternal and bounty everlasting. Jensen’s eyes are shocking green, as unforgettable as the sinful swell of his mouth or the charming swathe of freckles across his nose. His wolf must be beautiful.
He catches Jensen staring at him, too, his eyelashes hiding the sweep of his eyes up and down Jared’s body, lingering on his hands, his neck, the breadth of his shoulders. Jared’s not above a little Alpha pride so he stands rigid, strong, proud in his place and positive in his confidence for their union. Jensen doesn’t have to like him but it certainly wouldn’t hurt.
“A kiss for good luck,” the Elder finally says, and Jared, never one to stand on ceremony and always one to make an impression, sweeps Jensen into his arms and dips him halfway to the altar floor. Before he can even marvel at the perfect weight of Jensen in his arms or the sweet scent of cloves on his lips, Jensen opens his mouth in answer to Jared’s kiss. It’s so far from the chaste, clench-lipped response he’d been expecting. Jared gets his first taste of Jensen amidst the shocked murmurs and amused hums of his guests, all of it background babble.
He rights them both, grinning at his own dizzy head and sudden cheer. He can work with this. Jensen’s stunned, blushed to a new shade of beautiful, his lower lip trembling as he stares up at Jared. The guests break out in applause as the processional music begins. Jared puts his arm over Jensen’s shoulder and leans down to whisper in his ear.
“Do you believe in luck, Jensen?”
*
Jensen is a statue at his side as he receives his curious guests at their matrimonial table. More than one Dark Court matron sneers politely at Jensen, nonplussed that her own child isn’t sitting by Jared’s side. The reigning Mesmer king has the gall to kiss Jensen’s hand. Jensen’s soft gasp rolls over Jared’s skin.
“I could have him killed.” Jared leans in and smiles at Jensen.
“I, oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Jensen’s eyes flit over Jared’s face, unsure if Jared’s really joking. He is. Kind of.
“I don’t suppose there are lots of Mesmers in the Light Court.”
“They control minds, right?” Jensen frowns.
“I’ve never heard of any, but Father didn’t take me to Council events very often. Or ever, really.”
Jensen’s hand disappears under Jared’s. His skin is warm, although he’s carefully nursed a single glass of blush wine all night.
Jared ignores the polite half-cough of a Kirin matron who’s come to bless their union with many sons, no doubt.
“Your father’s an idiot.” Jared arches an eyebrow at Jensen’s stunned expression, watching his mouth open and close like a fish. Gods, that mouth.
“Have you had enough to eat? I can have Andre bring you another plate.”
“I’m alright, thank you. Everything was delicious. I love those pastries, with the cream and the strawberries?”
There’s a dirty joke about strawberries and cream on the tip of Jared’s tongue but he swallows it.
“Those are my favorite, too.”
“I’m fond of sweets. Too fond, according to my mother.” Jensen frowns, looking balefully out at the crowd. His parents had left the moment the ceremony was over.
“There’s no shame in that.”
Jared brings with delicate curve of Jensen’s wrist to his mouth, kissing over the flutter of his pulse.
“I’m fond of boys with an appetite.”
Flushed is a good look on Jensen. Jared snaps his fingers for one of the waiters tasked with seeing to his every whim.
“Andre, bring another plate of desserts, two of everything. For the bride.”
Jared winks at Jensen’s wide-eyed look of delight and turns back to his guests.
*
The private suites above the Unseelie Great Hall are reserved for the very royal or the very wealthy. Jared, whose bloodline barely stretches back a third of Jensen’s, had rented them all. He can almost hear the four-poster bed of the master suite calling him.
“Many blessings for a fruitful union.”
Jared nods politely at the final guest requiring his attention.
“Thank you, Alpha Morgan.”
Even Jeff’s shameless, wolf-whistled assessment of Jensen doesn’t ruffle Jared. Let him look.
“I think we’re finally done with the well-wishers. If wishes were actually worth anything, I could retire after tonight.”
Jensen laughs, a soft, pretty sound. He’s beautiful when he smiles. It’ll be centuries before he shows any signs of age, but the faint hint of creases around his eyes will make him a handsome man when the time comes.
The crowd cheers when Jared stands up. Jensen demurely takes his hand and lets out a yelp as Jared picks him up. Jared’s a thoroughly modern wolf, but the old ways still have value.
“Ready to go upstairs, little one?”
Jensen’s arms circle around his shoulders.
“Yes, Alpha.”
“You don’t have to be so formal, Jensen.”
Jared hugs him closer to his chest.
“But I like it when you call me that.”
They wave to their guests and leave them to their champagne and music. The halls leading to the suite are quiet by comparison, with only Jensen’s unsteady breathing and the soft footsteps of Jared’s guards. One can never be too cautious, and the last thing he needs is an interruption.
Normally Jared would take time to appreciate the sumptuous rooms arounds him, with no expense spared for every detail, but right now Jared’s heart and his body are pounding for the king-sized bed ahead of him. He stops at the edge of the mattress, and with Jensen in his arms, he takes their second kiss.
Somehow Jensen’s more nervous about this one, with his lip quivering and his heart rabbitting in his throat. It tugs at something buried deep in Jared, woven into his alpha DNA. Jensen, quivering in his arms and fever-warm against Jared’s lips, is equal parts prey and prince, begging for Jared to sink his fangs in and never let go.
He settles Jensen against the pillows, as pretty as the finest ornament in this or any room. He’s still as a doll as he watches Jared strip out of his tux, the only indication that he’s alive the steadily-increasing thump of his heartbeat as Jared calmly unbuttons his shirt and shucks off his pants.
Even this well-made bed dips under Jared’s weight. He inches next to Jensen, who’s biddable as a pup while Jared undresses him. They say all omegas run warm, but Jensen hopes he has something to do with the warmth bleeding out of Jensen’s skin as he strips him down to match Jared in his undershirt and boxers.
“Has anyone ever touched you like this, Jensen?”
Jared softly traces the tip of his finger over Jensen’s delicate collarbone.
“I’m a virgin, I swear, I’ve never –”
“Of course you are.” The hollow of Jensen’s neck gets more pronounced as Jensen looks up at him, imploring. Poor kid had probably been taught it was the only thing he had to offer.
“I wouldn’t care if you weren’t,” Jared says, which is only partially true. While he’d think nothing less of Jensen, the thought of being Jensen’s first goes right to his dick. Jared’s thoroughly modern and forward-thinking, but at the end of the day he’s still an alpha.
“You’re,” Jensen swallows, his slim throat clicking. “You’re my first.”
Jared slides himself over Jensen, covering his tiny frame with his own hulking body. He presses his thigh between Jensen’s legs, grinds it against him.
“Do you want me to be your first, Jensen? I won’t force you.”
“I’ll be good, I promise, I – I know my duty.”
“Your duty?” Jared arches an eyebrow. “You really know how to make a guy feel sexy, huh?”
“You are,” Jensen blurts, turning hot pink as Jared stares him down.
“You’re very, um, attractive.” The blush on Jensen’s face is strawberries and cream, sweet enough to eat. Jared kisses him, lets his tongue circle into the warm sweetness of Jensen’s mouth. Jensen melts under him, his body lax and his legs splaying easily as Jared grinds against him.
“You’re beautiful, Jensen. I don’t care about duty,” Jared says, cupping the side of Jensen’s face in his palm.
“I just want to taste you.”
“What, what’re you tasting?” Jensen’s face is a war of perplexed and scared and instinctively aroused, pupils dilating and his skin glowing even as he frowns.
“Sweet boy,” Jared chuckles.
“What sort of talk did you get about your wedding night?”
Jensen looks down. The heavy sweep of his lashes makes him look even more beautiful.
“My mother said I just have to open my legs and close my eyes if the pain gets too bad.”
Jared shakes his head. “Well, I do like you with your legs open.”
He grinds down against Jensen, lets him feel the press of his cock through their underwear.
“But I won’t hurt you. Unless you want me to.”
Jensen gives him a baby-animal blink of shock. Jared tucks a stray lock of hair behind Jensen’s ear, traces down his neck.
“I’d rather make you feel good.”
Jensen’s scent is soft, powdery, a delicate thing Jared teases from the gentle curve of his neck. He kisses over tender, freckled skin, breaking away only when it’s absolutely necessary to peel Jensen’s undershirt over his head.
“You were made to feel good, Jensen.”
Jared’s broad palm barely fits between Jensen’s legs. Jared presses, spanning the cute exclamation point of Jensen’s little omega dick down to the heat of his hole. Warmth radiates through the fabric, bleeding into Jared’s hand along with the hint of wet dampening the fabric.
“Getting wet for me already?”
Jensen nods, his lip bit between his teeth. Poor kid probably doesn’t even have the vocabulary for what his body’s feeling.
“Good boy.”
Jared sucks on of Jensen’s petal-pink nipples into his mouth, earning him a shocked gasp. Jensen’s body rolls against him, arching up into Jared’s touch. That easy lordosis curve, Jensen’s natural instinct to present and get himself bred, all of it goes straight to Jared’s dick. He’s throbbing, his cock straining against his boxers, every Alpha instinct in his body screaming to flip Jensen over and take him rough. It’s the kind of treatment Jensen expects, the only kind he’s most likely ever witnessed or envisioned. Jared’s always prided himself on his control over his lupine instincts. It’s what sets him apart from the dying packs all around him, torn from within by competitive Alpha bullshit and a truculent unwillingness to evolve. Jared can do better.
“Take these off.”
Jared plucks at the waistband of Jensen’s underwear between kisses across the soft slope of his stomach. Jensen wriggles out of his shorts and rolls onto his stomach with little urging from Jared. Jensen’s doe-legs tremble as he rises onto his knees, his arms splayed out in front of him and his face buried in the pillow.
Jared rears back, his blood pounding in his ears as he takes in the pale curve of Jensen’s round little ass, the deep pink of his hole peeking through.
Jensen’s breathing is uneven, coming out in shuddered jolts that match the tension across his shoulders. Part of Jared thrills at it, at Jensen’s little body beneath him, willing and wary as he offers himself up for Jared to claim.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Jared curves over Jensen’s back, easily covering Jensen with his broad chest. He kisses the downy nape of Jensen’s neck, lets his cock press against Jensen’s hole through his boxers. Jensen sighs beneath him, arches back, warm slick seeping out of his hole to soak the cotton of Jared’s underwear. Perfect.
“Bet you taste as good as you smell.”
Jared kisses down Jensen’s slim back, finding each vertebrae of his spine with his tongue. His fingers trace over the delicate ladder of Jensen’s ribs, moving in time with his deep, unsteady breath.
“What, what’re,” Jensen moans, inhaling sharply as Jared mouths over his tailbone.
“Shh, just relax.”
Settling back on his knees, Jared spreads Jensen open with a palm on either side of his ass. Jensen’s hole is hot pink, pearled wet as a line of slick leaks down at Jared’s touch. Jared’s mouth waters, strung out on the sweet scent of Jensen’s body and the desperation aching between his own legs. He leans in and chases Jensen’s slick up the smooth line of his balls, teasing around the edge of Jensen’s hole, tasting him salty and sweet on his tongue until Jensen whines.
Jared smiles against Jensen’s soft skin before he dives in again. Jared always likes doing this, but there’s nothing better than an omega boy, wet and warm for his tongue. Jensen’s innocence only makes it better, every shocked sound of pleasure and desperate, scandalized moan he makes going straight to Jared’s cock. Jensen isn’t the only one who’s leaking by the time Jared pulls off him.
“Ready for more, sweet boy?”
Jared runs his thumb in a circle around Jensen’s hole, mixing his own spit with Jensen’s natural wetness.
“Yes, yes, Alpha,” Jensen whines, pushing back against Jared’s hand. A natural.
“Better be sure, sweetheart. Once I start,” Jared whispers, pressing his finger into Jensen’s warm, fuck-ready hole, “I don’t stop.”
In answer, Jensen reaches back, spreads his own dainty hands on either side of his ass and holds himself open. It’s whorish, desperate, as archetypically slutty as every bad omega stereotype. Jared growls in his chest, hungry for all the possibilities his new bride presents. He shoves his underwear down, kicks it off the bed, hissing as the air finally hits his bare cock.
“Need you to breathe for me,” Jared says, stroking himself in anticipation. A bead of precome oozes out of him, quickly gone as Jared spreads it over his cock.
“Want it, want you inside me,” Jensen whines, his hips arching up, legs spread wide. If only his parents could see their darling boy now.
“Yeah, you fucking need it.”
They both do. It sets every nerve in Jared’s body on edge not to sink all the way inside Jensen, but he manages to thumb the fat head of his cock inside him before going still.
“Your body knows what it needs, Jensen, just like that.”
Jensen’s so tight it has to hurt, brand-new and shaking as Jared slowly sinks in, inch by inch. He pets up Jensen’s sides, dots his back with kisses and soft praise, sucks a mark onto the virgin skin of his neck until he bottoms out.
“So good for me.”
He circles slowly, gets a firm grip on one of Jensen’s hips. There might be some bruises there tomorrow but Jensen doesn’t seem to mind.
“Please, Alpha, please,” he begs, squirming in Jared’s hands as he opens around Jared’s cock.
“Breed me.”
It’s all Jared needs to hear, all it takes to snap the thin tether of his self-control. He curls over Jensen, holding him tight and supporting all his weight. Jensen goes limp as Jared fucks into him, his wordless moans as inhuman as Jared’s animal growls. Jensen’s hole is so wet they can hear it, tight and slick every time Jared thrusts into him. Pressure builds at the base of Jared’s cock, heat that radiates from his balls and makes his blood sing.
“Feel that, Jen, feel what you do to me?”
Each pass of Jared’s dick thickens him, swelling his knot and reducing Jared to the snarling wolf of his Alpha nature. He buries his face in Jensen’s shoulder, scenting him as he blindly reaches down to stroke Jensen’s cute little dick. Jensen’s whine is muffled by the pillows, reedy and desperate until he clenches hard around Jared’s cock.
“Alpha,” Jensen moans, his cock pulsing in Jared’s hand. The throb of his body around Jared’s cock is so tight it hurts, the kind of pain that whets him for more, dares him to force a few rough passes of his cock into Jensen’s hole before his knot swells to completion.
“Gonna breed you, Jen, get you nice and full for me,” Jared growls, his words slurring together as his balls tighten up and his knot throbs in time with his heartbeat. Stuck deep inside him, he pumps into Jensen, each wave of come making him grunt with effort. Jensen feels too small, too tight to take it all, but not a drop leaks out. Jared’s not one for Alpha bullshit but his chest swells at the sight of his well-bred little bride.
Slowly, carefully, and not without some wincing, Jared lowers them to their sides, spooning Jensen against his chest and holding him tight. His knot throbs with the after-effects of his orgasm, emptying what little he has left in his balls.
“I can feel it,” Jensen sighs, pressing a hand over his stomach.
“Good,” Jared says, nuzzling into Jensen’s neck. “Means I did my job.”
“Did I .. was I good?” Jensen asks, his voice soft, uncertain.
“You were perfect.” Jared lays his hand over Jensen’s, pressing where Jensen’s full with him.
“And we’ll have lots of time to practice.”
“I didn’t know it would feel like that.”
“Like what?” Jared asks, dragging his finger up to circle over Jensen’s nipple.
“Good,” Jensen says. “Like I want to do it again.”
Jared laughs.
“I think there are a lot of things you don’t know, Jensen.” Jared’s voice is soft, hazy with the afterglow of sex and his blooming affection for the boy in his arms. He’ll give Jensen the world, an empire that will go down in Fae history. Jensen’s the best debt he’s ever paid.
“But I have a lifetime to teach you.”
He kisses Jensen, savoring the soft, sweet taste of his lips.
“We’ll make our own luck.”