Vanilla Beans

THEODORE

It was days later and my body still felt foreign, I could not forget the General's scent for the life of me. Every Alpha I passed now seemed to agitate me. Except the goddamn General's scent.

What the fuck was going on with me!

I snarled at the maid who placed my breakfast on the table.

“What? Too poor to afford scent blockers?”

She flinched like I'd hit her. Her face turned red from embarrassment.

“I'm sorry, my prince.” She whispered and ran out the door like she had a herd of wild cattle on her heels.

I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. My skull was pounding. I didn't usually act like such an asshole to the staff, but my senses were completely out of whack.

The smell of her cheap floral soap mixed with fear sweat had made my stomach turn.

I looked down at the breakfast tray. The eggs looked dry and the sausage just smelled like grease. I pushed the plate away in disgust.

I was an Alpha prince. I couldn't be sitting here obsessing over a military brute.

It was humiliating. Just remembering the way his scent had wrapped around me, his big, long thick cock thrusting —Oh fuck, I was done for.

I shoved my chair back, letting it scrape loudly against the stone floor. Fuck this.

I needed to get outside and clear my head before I completely lost my grip on reality.

Maybe an Omega would do the job.

I pulled open my wardrobe, tearing through the fine silk shirts until I found a plain black one. I threw on a leather jacket to block out as much of the outside world as possible, but I wasn't stupid.

If I went out looking like myself, the paparazzi or my father’s guards would have me back in the palace before I could even order a drink.

I grabbed a small, flesh-colored patch from my side drawer—a high-grade tech mask.

I slapped it over my neck, feeling the cool tingle as it fused with my skin, completely locking in my royal scent.

To anyone else tonight, I’d just be an ordinary, unbonded Alpha looking for a good time.

The Cupid Den was a sweaty, dark hole on the lower levels of the city, exactly the kind of place a prince shouldn't be seen in.

The bass rattled my ribs the second I stepped inside, drowning out the loud thumping in my ears. The air was thick with Omega pheromones—exactly what I needed to shove that bastard to the far recesses of my mind.

I pushed past a couple of grinding Betas and headed straight for the bar, my eyes scanning the room.

That was when I saw him.

He was sitting alone at the edge of the VIP lounge, sipping something blue from a glowing glass.

He was an Omega, petite with soft silver hair that caught the neon lights, and his scent—sweet, like crushed vanilla beans—was practically begging for attention.

I walked over, making sure my steps were deliberate. I stopped right in front of his booth, looking down at him.

"Is this seat taken?" I asked, my voice cutting through the bass.

He looked up, his eyes widening slightly as he took me in. He ran his gaze down my leather jacket, his nostrils flaring just a fraction as he tried to catch my scent—only to find nothing but the clean, sterile block of the patch on my neck.

A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He slid over, patting the leather seat beside him.

"It is now," he said, his voice soft but carrying easily over the thumping bass.

I sat down, the distance between us barely a few inches. Up close, his vanilla scent was stronger, but my body didn't react the way it usually did to a willing Omega.

There was no sudden rush of heat, no instinctual urge to claim. My mind was stubbornly, infuriatingly blank.

"You're quiet for an Alpha," the Omega murmured, leaning in closer. His shoulder brushed against mine, a light, teasing touch. "And wearing a mask. Planning on being bad tonight?"

"Just looking for a distraction," I said, keeping my voice level. I reached out, my fingers tracing the rim of his glowing glass, close enough that our hands almost touched.

He chuckled, his head tilting to the side, exposing the soft line of his neck. It was an open invitation. "I'm good at distractions."

I leaned in, intending to breathe in his scent, to let the vanilla soothe the agitation clawing at my chest. But as my face neared his skin, my throat tightened.

The sweet smell didn't settle me. It just felt wrong. It didn't smell like the General.

My jaw clenched so hard it ached. I forced myself to stay still, refusing to let this random Omega see how badly my own mind was betraying me.

“Should we get a room?”

The Omega's eyes widened slightly, he seemed surprised that I'd gone straight to the point.

“Lead the way.” He chuckled, sliding out of his seat and gesturing at the back rooms.

I grabbed his wrist, pulling him down the dimly lit hallway.

I swiped my credits at the door panel of an empty private cabin, and the metal door slid shut behind us, locking out the thudding bass of the club.

The second the lock clicked, the Omega was on me.

He wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled my head down.

He tasted like sweet liqueur and vanilla, his mouth hot and eager. I pressed him hard against the wall, my hands gripping his hips as I tried to force myself into the moment.

Come on, I thought, forcing my lips against his. Focus.

He let out a soft whine, tilting his hips up and grinding his crotch against mine. He was soft, warm, and doing everything right.

His scent was spiking, releasing slick, sweet pheromones into the small room.

Any normal Alpha would have been climbing the walls by now.

I ground my hips back against him, desperate for my body to catch up to the motion.

Nothing.

I was completely, humiliatingly soft.

I kissed him harder, biting his lower lip until he gasped, my hand sliding under his shirt to grip his bare waist. I pressed myself flat against him, trying to force a spark, trying to feel even a flicker of arousal.

But there was absolutely nothing happening down there. My body felt like ice. The only thing clenching was my goddamn ass.

The Omega noticed. His grinding slowed down, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion as he realized there was no hard ridge pressing back against him.

He tried to rub against me again, softer this time, his hands sliding down to my chest.

"Alpha?" he whispered, his voice laced with confusion.

"Shut up," I muttered, my voice tight.

I buried my face in his neck, taking a deep drag of his vanilla scent, trying to force my brain to register the Omega in front of me.

But the sweet smell just made my stomach turn. My mind instantly flashed back to the dominant scent of the General—the way it had absolutely crushed my senses, the way my body had practically begged to be taken.

I pulled back abruptly, my hands dropping from his waist.

"What's wrong?" the Omega asked, looking up at me with wide, slightly hurt eyes. "Is it my scent? I can—"

"It's not you," I snapped, stepping away from him.

I ran a hand through my hair, my chest heaving as anger and pure frustration boiled over inside me.

I should have let him die.