CHAPTER ELEVEN

As they pulled off the main road, Tav started to wonder yet again why the hell he’d agreed to this. Mir had already had multiple near meltdowns, and Clay, the sneaky little shit, must have left the certificate there to cause trouble. Since when did Clay care what information omegas were privy to? The little shit must have found out Mir’s siblings were well-known and highly controversial in Grabar circles and clearly wanted to stir something up as Mir had very little filter.

Clay enjoyed fireworks, as long as they wasn’t the central attraction, and it appeared this event was lighting the crafty beta’s anticipation up like a supernova. Leaving Mir in a hotel while he did his duty and briefly showed his face at the event crossed his mind, although even the thought of being away from Mir for a matter of hours had his hackles rising. Then he remembered what had happened when he’d spent an afternoon away from them, and Mir had been somewhere familiar. His mind piled on another reason for this being a damn stupid idea. Omegas did occasionally travel and stay in hotels without an alpha, but they were always accompanied by a mature beta. Lone omegas were vulnerable, and a heavily pregnant one even more so. No, they were here now, and they could always leave again, now they had the certificates, if things didn’t work out.

A groan left his lips as they turned off the main road. Someone had been doing a little building. There was a bloody stone arch across the start of the ridiculously long driveway with ‘GRABAR’ in gold lettering across it.

A glance back proved that, yes, Mir looked as if they was being sucked into a black hole. He’d known this would be a shock but decided not to tell Mir about a lot of things. The estate was big, his family wealthy and extravagant, and being told all the details would have just ramped up Mir’s fear. Hopefully, him having grown balls would be enough of a surprise to take the focus off Mir.

And pigs might fly…

“That’s new. Natelle’s idea?” Tavish ground out.

“Nope, Father’s,” Clayen replied. “He thinks it gives the right impression of our family’s importance.”

Tavish snorted in derision and reached for Mir’s hand in an attempt to reassure them that he wasn’t in favor of all this extravagance despite being a Grabar. Mir pulling their hand away damn well hurt. Actions spoke louder than words, but right now, words were all he had.

“Yeah, right. The only thing important about us is that the alphas in our line usually ignore most of the Malthusian founding principles and breed as often as feasibly possible to produce their own workforce. I bet if we researched it, we’re some sort of cousin to three-quarters of the people within a hundred miles. Comes of treating omegas as throw-away commodities.” If he was hoping for a reaction from Mir, he didn’t get one. Even though he’d grown up here, after spending time away, he could see how over the top it was, but his worldview had to be so different from Mir’s.

He’d found out a little of Mir’s background from their brother’s article, but he knew Mir’s life had gone further downhill since they’d left home. Corish had mentioned their father beating Mir when they manifested, but most, if not all, of the many scars on Mir’s body were less than a decade old. Far harsher abuse had occurred from when Mir left home up until Tavish found them.

Leaving Mir’s proto-alpha traits aside, they was pretty much the living embodiment of an abused omega. Corish Reeve’s crusade against abusive alphas was a noble cause, but would he use Mir as a publicity stunt to further his personal agenda? What being the center of an investigation and possibly facing their abuser in court would do to Mir, Tavish didn’t know, but he didn’t think it’d be anything good, especially if said abuser had a legal claim over Mir’s triplets.

The shadow of the arch passed over them. Beside him, Mir shivered. “We’re going to find a hotel in town. Neither Mir nor I need or want any of this shit. I’ll show my face at the ceremony, and then we’re going back—”

Clayen shook his head and sighed but didn’t change direction. “Tavvy, Tavvy, Tavvy. That was the deal. I provide the paperwork—which you have to admit I did—and you make nice with the folks. Which means you’re going to have to shelve that unaffiliated beta attitude; your shiny new nuts kinda clash with it.”

“You really think that just because I can now reproduce, I’ve lost every moral I’ve ever had?” Tavish ground out.

Mir sank back in the seat even further, and it pissed him off that he didn’t know if he was the cause of their fear or if it was this situation.

“Don’t go all alpha on me, brother dearest, but yeah, I kinda do. You’ve got the status and the power now, and don’t bother claiming that you’re never going to throw your alpha weight around if it’ll get you what you want. You’ve got different priorities now; it’s natural. Just try not to forget the betas and omegas who put you on that pedestal.”

“Look, Clay,” Tavish said through gritted teeth, but he lost his train of thought as beside him, Mir leaned forward, their mouth dropping open.

Tav’s childhood home had just come into view, and for the first time, he saw it like someone who’d never seen it before. Rather than ‘home’, he saw a vast, two-story whitewashed brick mansion, four times the size of Freedom Farm, at the end of a long loop of white gravel driveway. Several other large two-story redbrick buildings stood to either side—the senior and junior beta houses plus the retirement house—and a collection of well-maintained barns and stable blocks sat to the east, about five hundred yards away.

“Oh my fucking God, you live in a palace,” Mir blurted, then clapped their hand over their mouth.

Clayen laughed out loud, and Tavish couldn’t help smiling too. Mir was just so… real. And he hoped that’d never change.

“Not quite, cute stuff, but I don’t think there are many larger single-family homes,” Clay said. “Generations of Grabar alphas have wanted to make an impression, well at least most of them have, with Tavish being the biggest exception I’ve ever met, but he was always a weird kid. As for this place, it’s just a showpiece, the work that pays for all this goes on elsewhere. We can’t have dirty beta workers and clattering machinery disturbing the peace, can we?”

“Stop trying to convince Mir that you don’t lap all this up, Clay. Next time you stick your tongue out, I’m going to check its color. Too much ass-licking is bad for your health, and don’t tell me I’m wrong; I’ve got a medical license to prove it.”

Bright red and blue flowers nodded in the window boxes Tav’s Ma had loved so much. He wondered if the colors had been chosen to fit in with the Grabar signature dark blue color with a nod to the blood stripe on their tartan. When Tav was a child, the colors were mismatched and changed with the season. Ma had deemed anything ‘cheerful’ appropriate.

“I wondered how long it’d take you to start throwing your qualifications about. But look where you live and where I live.” Clay waved at the buildings ahead. “Money talks, Tavvy, and your ramshackle farm in the back end of beyond hardly compares.”

Tavish thought Freedom Farm—even if it needed a lot of work—a thousand times better than this. Still, he was thankful for Clay’s attempt to normalize all this for Mir, but it didn’t seem to be working as they still stared in fascinated horror at the home Tavish had grown up in as if it were from another planet.

He almost face-palmed as a young beta he didn’t recognize, wearing a dark blue Grabar tartan vest and black trousers, came trotting out to hold the horses. Mir glanced back up the driveway as if assessing their chances of staging an escape attempt.

He leaned in close and whispered, “It’s only going to be for a day or two, then we’ll be back off home to Freedom Farm, and we never have to come down here again. My life, our lives, are not here, but we need to honor our agreement with Clay for the paperwork, ok?”

He didn’t expect Mir to answer, and they didn’t. His own clothes, a black utility kilt and pale gray shirt, were out of place, but he cringed at Mir’s beta sweatpants, oversized shirt, and hooded jacket. Perhaps letting Mir choose their own clothes for this trip hadn’t been such a good idea. The differences between Mir and the people they’d be meeting soon were stark, and he had his fingers crossed that Mir’s claim to not care what other people thought of them was true, because there would be plenty of looks and comments.

Clayen got down from the driving seat as a familiar figure walked down the small flight of steps of the house.

Daven looked older and smaller than Tavish remembered but given that Tavish had been Taven the last time they met, his Untie Daven really was smaller in comparison.

Tavish got out of the carriage and walked around to Mir’s side, to provide a slight physical barrier between his omega and his family. Daven’s typically Grabar, dark hair, dark eyes, and square jaw hadn’t changed. Tav had always thought his untie was the beta mirror of their alpha brother, Telish. Now, Daven resembled the figure he saw in the mirror every day far more than he’d ever imagined. Which meant… if he carried on letting his beard grow, he and his sire would be more identical than Langish and Zepish. His blond twin alpha siblings had different colored eyes.

“Taven. Good of you to….” Daven trailed off as they took in Tavish’s height and build.

“I’d better get your father,” they blurted and started back up the stone steps.

“Do me a favor, Daven, don’t tell him why you want him to come out.”

Daven met his eyes, and their lips twitched up in a smile before nodding and disappearing inside.

Time to face the music. This would not be easy, and leaving Mir without an escape route, with their history of running away, seemed damn prudent.

He opened the low door of Clay’s stupid, impractical carriage and held out his hand. Mir reached for the baggage.

“Don’t worry, a beta will get that.” Mir froze, probably at the reminder of how different they were from each other. Tavish took their hand and encouraged them to step out, but Mir resisted long enough to grab the wallet containing the documents.

As when they’d first met, Mir’s movements were painfully slow, but their eyes darted everywhere, and the scent of fear hit his nose hard. The betas around them might not be able to detect it, and if they could, they were politely ignoring it, but Telish would pick it up in a heartbeat.

Like he’d done that day and many times since, Tavish began talking, giving Mir something to mentally latch on to, that wouldn’t, hopefully, increase their distress.

“That was my untie Daven, my father’s second in command. My father, Telish, is somewhat of a traditionalist, but he’s not a strict ‘omegas should be seen and not heard’ type. Just wait until he speaks to you.”

Mir nodded, but he could see that ‘fish out of water’ didn’t begin to cover how they felt. Mir stiffened, and their gaze fixed above his shoulder. Tavish didn’t have to look to know who had just appeared. Even the most dominant alphas, when on their own territory, instinctively back down to Telish. He couldn’t guess how his father’s presence would affect a frightened, previously abused omega who was heavily pregnant with another alpha’s offspring.

Even though Tavish was a tall, powerful alpha in his own right now, Telish still exuded power and dominance from every pore. To Tavish’s annoyance, he found himself straightening his spine and pushing his shoulders back, trying to make up for the inch of height his sire still had on him. At least the farm work, along with the manifestation, had made Tavish as broad, maybe even broader, than his sire. He also had twenty years on the middle-aged alpha, although the silver strands in Telish’s dark hair and beard simply added to his power.

And why the fuck am I comparing myself to him like an angry bull assessing an opponent? I’m better than that. Intellect, not hormones, Dr. Grabar.

Rather than wearing travel-weary, practical attire, Telish wore a kilt with the red stripe almost obliterating the blue clan tartan. His soft, cream cashmere shirt was open at the neck, revealing a goodly amount of dark chest hair that matched his impeccably trimmed full beard. Clayen might be the poster beta of ungendered dandy, but Telish Grabar liked to give out a specific impression too. Wealth, power, and superiority.

“I know you think you’re important, Taven, but…” Telish trailed off and sniffed deeply, then seemed to grow even larger. Mir pressed up against Tavish’s side, letting out a tiny squeak of fear.

In Mir’s world, maybe mature alphas engaged in physical dominance battles as they had in the early days of Malthusia. In those dark days, the winning alpha took the defeated alpha’s omega and killed any children so as to ensure his own were born as soon as possible.

The scientists had worked hard to remove such primitive instincts, but they still lurked at the genetic level of every Malthusian. If Telish wanted to hurt Mir, he would have to go through his new alpha son.

“I’ve got a knife. He won’t expect that.”

Eyes wide, Tavish glanced down at his fiery pregnant omega. Mir was right, Telish wouldn’t expect that. Hell, Tavish hadn’t expected that, and he knew Mir. He had no doubt that Mir would defend themself and him if things got physical. Pride bloomed. How did I get so damn lucky?

Without glancing at his beta offspring, Telish said, “Leave us, Clayen. I will be speaking to you later. Everyone else, find something useful to do that’s not here.”

The red-haired beta scuttled off without a word. Clayen had always known when to make themself scarce or to defuse alpha anger with a joke. Every omega Tavish had ever met would have considered herself part of ‘everyone else,’ but not his Mir. Mir stood beside Tavish, presenting a united front to the alpha who ruled his vast kingdom with an iron fist.

“When?” Telish growled, his voice reeking of alpha dominance. Mir started to crouch, but Tavish held on to their elbow, stopping the instinctive submissive reaction. No omega of his would bow to another.

“Nineteen months ago. You didn’t get the notification that I got proved? I suspected as much as Clayen didn’t know until they turned up at my door last week, and I swore them to secrecy.” He grinned and lied through his teeth. “I have to say, the look on your face was worth it.

“I stayed away as I have no interest in challenging Langish’s position as heir, or yours as head of the family. May we come in? Mir is tired.” The flash of surprise his sire displayed at the use of the child form of Mir’s name warmed Tavish’s heart, but he didn’t give his sire the benefit of displaying a reaction himself. “It’s been a long journey, and Mir is near term with triplets.”

Telish’s eyes turned to Mir for the first time. The weight on Tavish’s arm increased, as did the scent of Mir’s fear, but to his joy, Mir remained upright and didn’t make a sound, but three of their fingers beat a tattoo on the inside of his bicep. Tavish had never heard or seen Mir pray, but there was no doubting the movement was a plea to the Three-Faced God for something, probably protection. Tavish’s ridiculous alpha mind resented the implication that his omega didn’t trust him to handle the situation.

“Triplets? Natelle will be pissed; she’s only ever managed twins, and she’s only done that twice.” Telish’s nose wrinkled as he assessed Mir as if they was livestock. “She’s a bit rough-looking, but there is a definite size advantage. Should give some good betas, even an alpha if you’re lucky. What is she to you? I don’t see any bonding marks, which is a start. At least you learned something that didn’t come out of a book, but the lack of a beard is weird. Do you shave everywhere? Are you ashamed of being an alpha, or is it some odd fetish?”

Tavish’s jaw clenched at the bigoted, highly offensive comments. Why had he expected his father to have developed even a modicum of enlightened attitude during their time apart?

“My personal grooming choices are my own business. I don’t mind discussing some aspects of my personal life, but I’d rather not do it in front of the grooms and gardeners. If you have questions for Mir, they are more than capable of answering for themself.”

Telish crossed his arms over his chest, a conscious or unconscious attempt to project the most potent, alpha-ish image possible, but he directed his question to Tavish. “Did I hear that correctly? Mir, not Mirelle?”

Tavish gave Mir’s arm a squeeze, and as he’d hoped, Mir answered. “That’s correct, Mr. Grabar. I have never adopted the omega form of my name, and I prefer they/them pronouns.”

Tavish would have paid to see the way his sire’s eyebrows shot up. It must have been many years since an omega, other than his mate or daughter, spoke to the great Telish Grabar, let alone looked him in the eye while she did it.

“An unconventional omega for an unconventional son.” Telish pursed his lips. “Well, you two will certainly liven things up around here. And Mir?”

Mir’s hazel eyes were bright and questioning. “Alphas do not get involved in omega fights, no matter what, understand?”

“Not a problem for me.” Confidence oozed in Mir’s voice.

Telish chuckled. “I bet it’s not. I can’t wait to hear how you tempted Tavish away from his books because I’m sure that’s what happened.” Apparently done with the odd omega, Telish turned back to the only person he considered to matter, his third alpha son. “Now, let’s get you settled. As an alpha, you certainly can’t stay in the beta dorm now.”

“Again, not a problem for me,” Mir piped up, and Tavish tried not to wince. The Grabar prime alpha hadn’t been talking to Mir.

Telish’s eyes narrowed as he concentrated on Mir’s less-than-refined appearance. It seemed his amusement with Mir’s attitude had reached its limit.

“I can’t begin to imagine what sort of accommodation you are—”

Tavish interrupted before his sire said something that would rile Mir up. “Clayen said we could use his room, and as Mir is clearly tired, we’ll be going.” Holding Mir’s elbow firmly, he propelled them up the stairs and into the house.

“Nonsense,” Telish said from right behind them. He was clearly not going to let this go. “I’m not putting Clay out of his room. He upsets the balance in the junior beta house enough as it is. Lord knows how long it’ll take them to rebalance if Clay stays there for several nights in a row. That chart of theirs will be almost blacked out with the number of ticks Clay will cause, and some of those betas aren’t that good at counting.”

Discussing Clayen’s promiscuity aloud clearly didn’t bother his father, in fact, Telish seemed proud of his beta offspring’s conquests. That everyone in his immediate family, apart from Perelle and his youngest half-siblings, had far more sexual experience than him bothered Tavish more than it should. Stupid alpha hormones.

“I’ll get Sayen to sort something out,” Telish continued. “Many of the guests won’t arrive until tomorrow for the ceremony itself, so we’ll just bump some of the minor family members out to the senior beta dorm. If some of the junior betas have to sleep in the barn for a night or two, it won’t kill them.”

Despite Natelle’s residency for the last twenty or so years, relief flooded Tavish when they entered the main entrance hall. It looked much like it had when he’d lived here. Warm, honey-colored doors still matched the floor and staircase rising at the back of the hall. A gouge out of the bottom of the kitchen door frame sparked a memory of Zepish pushing his twin in a toy cart designed for far younger pups into it. Both twins had to sleep on their bellies that night after Daven’s spankings.

The house still seemed to be divided into a larger work side and a formal ‘show’ side. The entrance hall and staircase had always been the barrier and link between them. Tav had seldom been in the formal side of the house as a pup, but he bet he wouldn’t get to see much else on this trip. Delicious scents crept under the door from the huge kitchen, where he hoped Sayen still reigned supreme. Beyond that would be the sick room, the laundry, and the school room. The impulse to see the schoolroom died as it wouldn’t match his memories now. Replacing them with reality, felt disloyal to the ghosts of the past.

It might look the same, but the notes of unfamiliar scents had all his instincts on alert. Don’t be an idiot. One, your sense of smell is double what it was last time you were here, and the residents have changed. You can’t turn back the clock.

The entrance hall remained a practical sort of space rather than the overly ostentatious décor Tavish had feared would creep in under Natelle’s long-term influence. This house had always been the seat of the Grabar Prime Alpha. Omegas, pups, and betas simply passed through. As before, only portraits of ancestral alphas, horses, and scenery decorated the walls.

“Take your omega up to the guest suite. She can wait there while we have a chat in my office.”

Beside him, Mir stiffened. “My name is Mir, not ‘omega’.” But at least Mir didn’t combine the correction with eye-balling Telish. Their focus remained on their covered belly. Knowing that posture, Mir would be trying to focus on either the floor or their own feet, but the triplets were definitely getting in the way.

“It certainly makes a change not to have a simpering omega around. Sometimes a bit of rough is fun. But please tell me you didn’t become her guardian as well as knocking her up?”

Anger flared at the way his sire completely ignored Mir while insulting them.

“That is none of your business,” Mir snapped, glaring at the Prime alpha of the entire Grabar clan. The last time Tav had paid attention, around thirty alphas called Telish ‘sir’, and he held the personal affiliation of over five hundred betas, plus the ones who affiliated to his secondary alphas. Yes, he’d advised Mir only to speak when spoken to, but Mir wasn’t an animal; they had the right to speak their mind when they wanted.

A slight smile twitched Telish’s lips. “So, what are you to my high-status, highly educated, alpha son? An amusing, controversial project? Or just a temporary vessel for his offspring?”

Mir growled, low in their throat. Tavish’s heart both soared that they wasn’t curling on the floor with their arms over their head and cringed because Telish could lash out like any other alpha.

Mir was quite capable of using violence to defend themselves, as they’d done with Clayen, but a punch, or worse, a stab, would have a very different outcome with Telish. He’d step in and defend Mir as his instincts demanded, but he wouldn’t stand a chance against Telish on the powerful alpha’s home turf. Even if he or Mir got in a lucky blow and disabled Telish, there were several dozen affiliated betas within earshot who would die defending their alpha. What had seemed like a prospectively awkward encounter when he’d decided to come down here, now appeared to be a far more dangerous situation.

Tavish increased the pressure on Mir’s elbow as he wondered where they’d hidden the knife. That Mir had managed to keep it hidden since they’d left home was a tribute to their determination to never again be at someone else’s mercy. Hopefully, wherever it was, Mir would have to break free of his hold to access the weapon.

“Not now,” he murmured.

“Feisty, isn’t she?” Telish said. “She should produce some damn big betas, maybe even an alpha or two. I take it that she’s a short-term rental to get your own line started? Good choice, but I don’t think I could cope with her big feet clomping about and constantly talking back, even for the necessary few months. Is that why her guardian only rents her out for pregnancy contracts? Nobody can stand her for long?”

Tavish’s teeth creaked under the strain of his clenched jaw. “Now listen here, Father, you invited me here, and I didn’t expect to be insulted.”

Mir pulled their arm free, turned on their heel, and marched back out the door, head high.

“I wasn’t insulting you son, but if you had trouble affording a good quality omega, rather than settling for this ill-mannered, skanky—”

Tavish’s fist shot out and connected with his father’s chin. It damn well hurt, and he shook his hand as his sire staggered back a step.

Mir was back next to him before Telish had finished straightening up, palm rubbing at his abused jaw.

“Better stay back; this could get nasty,” Tavish murmured as he stepped in front of them. “If this goes pear-shaped, get Clay to contact your brother. He’ll look after you and the babies, I promise.”

“Bollocks to that. There’s nowhere I’d rather be,” Mir growled. “Fuck ‘em all to hell. Let’s go home.”